A pair of sixth-level soldiers stood guard in front of the command tent, somber-faced and tense. They saluted as I slipped between them, and one grabbed the flap, letting me pass inside.
Bethiv stood with his hands on the strategy table, glaring across the illusory map of the mountains at Korra, Gayron, and Grace. Korra's arms were crossed, and Gayron's tail switched indignantly. The storm hero just leaned against a tent post, a bored look on her face.
"It wasn't our fault. We had them pinned when Xiviyah–" Korra froze, noticing an absent wispy of starlight curling around her foot. She whirled and broke into a grin. "You're here!"
She swept me up in a hug, squeezing the breath from my lungs. Her enthusiasm startled me more than anything. Hadn't she just been chewed out?
"My Lady?" Bethiv said, easing back, clasping his hands behind his back. He offered me a tight smile.
