The Summer Constellations

Chapter 2

Korra

 

I felt a gentle lurch as the ship pulled into the bay, and heard the noise of workmen unloading the ship.

“Thanks for the ride!” I called to the bewildered crew as I climbed up on Naga’s back and darted out of the cargo hold. They shook their heads disapprovingly, and mumbled amongst themselves.

“Chil’ren these days.”, they would mutter disapprovingly.

The city was spectacular.

“Look, Naga! The buildings don’t melt!”

Naga whimpered. Her big polarbear dog eyes seemed to say, “Cut the crap and get to the food already!”

“Aww, I couldn’t say no to that face, come on, let’s go get some grub.” I cooed, ruffling her furry ears. As we walked into the city center, I picked up the unmistakable aroma of barbecued meats. Unfortunately, Naga smelled it too. Before I could restrain her, she bounded up to a meat grill stand and poked her head through the curtains in the back.

“We’ll take one of everything, please.” I said to the very bewildered saleswoman, with a maniacal starved glint in my eye.

“That’ll be thirty yuans, missy.” The woman said sternly.

“Oh, err… I haven’t got any cash.. hehe..” I mumbled.

“THEN WHAT GOOD ARE YOU TO ME?” The woman screeched as she threw us out of the flimsy stall.

“Please, I’m the avatar!” I called, but to no reply. Naga whined again and beat her tail impatiently.

“Okay, okay, we’ll find something to eat!”

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After ten minutes of searching, we ended up on the banks of a small fishpond in a park. The fragrance of roasting fish filled the air as the fresh-caught minnows sizzled on little skewers in my hands. It took much finesse not to fry them to a frazzle. Hmph. I knew that my firebending tutor didn’t give me enough credit. Thinking about the crusty old man and his pesky abomination of an offspring, I stuck my tongue out, blanching. Nearby, Naga guzzled noisily at a fish.

“Heyyyy, ya don’t mind if I get some o’ those tasty smellin’ fishies, do ya?” I jumped up, startled. It was only a grubby-looking hobo.

“Oh sure.” As soon as I nodded assent, the filthy man grabbed one fast as lightning and popped it into his mouth.

“Ya know, this park’s a fav with hobos and vagabonds?” The hobo said through a mouthful of fish meat.

“Hmm, I never knew! I thought everyone at Republic City was ‘Living it up’.”

“You gotta lotta learn, girlie.” The beggar patted me on the shoulder. Suddenly, a police whistle shrilled in the still morning air.

“Hey you, you can’t fish here!” The officer yelled, brandishing a ‘stop’ sign.

“Ooh, you’d best skedaddle!” The hobo grinned as he disappeared into a bush. I followed the guy’s advice, swung into Naga’s saddle, and sprinted away into the park.

“Huh, teenage vandals.” The officer grumbled, sauntering away.

Venturing deeper into the park (which turned out to be larger than I had expected; it was at least seven times the size of the tiny, neglected, wilting garden back at the White Lotus compound in the South Pole. Out of the blue, a loud voice boomed in the depths of the park. I rounded the twist in the road, and there I saw it. The object to be my annoyance for several days to come. A little rickety stage, set up in the middle of the road, a small crowd gathered. There was a stack of flyers on a little desk. A ratty little man wearing a stupid-looking gray hat and coat with stupid oversized jowls which gave him the hangdog look of a rather bewildered-looking bloodhound. A large poster with a creepy mask face and the word ‘equality’ printed on was tacked to the side of the stage.