"To yet another easy pay day," Mimo announced as she raised another mug of rum for a toast. Mila and Sila knocked their mugs to hers and a large quantity of rum poured on the table.

Azra raised his mug before he took a sip of the rich brew inside. He had been on the road for a long time and the taste of rum was a welcome change.

"And all it took was a couple of swings of my staff," Mimo laughed as Siza wiped the excess rum from the table with a flick of his hand. He was indulging in the success of the day even though he was mostly fixed on Mimo's face.

The crew had all been in their usual place where they drank away the excess of the gold that they had already divided five ways. It was the only agreeable way that they could spend it seeing as no one could say they did more than the other in a particular avenue.

Azra was fond of the Oak Wastelands that he called home. The people here, far from the customs of the Motherlands, did not glance his way if not for greeting. He had been seen with Bolin for six winters here and the locals had already established that he was not what the Elder Mothers were preaching to the mass population.

"I believe someone owes me a drink," Mila spoke as she came to sit next to Azra.

"The excess gold only covered two rounds. Who do you think is paying for the sixteenth in your hand?"

Mila laughed as she said that it was starting to become hard for her to keep track of the count.

"I have noticed that this is still your fifth one though."

Azra was not surprised with this. Mila liked to keep a close eye on him. She had been nagging when they had been children but ever since Miral followed Bolin to Valhalla, she had taken it to another level.

"Perhaps the taste of rum is no longer a necessity in my being."

"And that would be the day the realm of Hel will melt over."

They both laughed at that, especially since they both knew that Azra was never likely to give up the bottle no matter what circumstance came. There was a moment's pass where the only sounds between them were the loud commotions of people talking over each other in the pub. Azra knew what conversation was going to follow. It was not the first time they had done this routine.

"I don't like this life we are living, Azra."

"And how many times have I asked you not to live it with me?"

"And what would I say to Miral when we meet in the afterlife? That I willingly let you go to war without me? She would deny me entry to Valhalla just for that."

There was another bout of laughter on that.

"But in all seriousness, Azra. How long have we been doing this? Seven winters now? When will it be enough?"

"When my father's work is finished."

Azra could see Mila just bursting with a response to that. Bolin had never intended for Azra to follow his footsteps in service to the Elder Mothers. He had never asked him to take up the mantle of lapdog when he died. He had only asked him never to go against Yori. The interpretation as to what he did today was the loosest of them all.

"We might be good at this thing we do, Azra. But we are not gods. Death will come to us if we do not live with what we have now."

"And what of you? Leaving Edga alone when he has already seen the death of one parent to war."

Azra regretted it as soon as he spoke the words. Using Edga... that was the lowest of lows he could sink. Mila had already turned a shade of red before she turned her face from him.

Edga is Mila's child and the only good thing the woman saw she did in this life that did not involve slaying someone. The child had been the fruit of Mila's love to an Oak and a Knight by the same name. When he had gone to battle, she had asked Azra to go with him so that he would bring him back to her.

That was one of the things Azra could never forgive himself for. He had promised Mila that he would return her lover to him. Instead, he brought back grief and a body to bury. For an entire winter, Mila did not speak to him, and he was sure that that would be the end of their friendship, until one day she came by his dwellings and asked him to relay the events of how he died to her.

Mila's love had fought as brave against the beasts of the Dead Forest as all the twenty thousand soldiers who were in the same squad. That was the day Azra had earned the name 'Sky Mover'. When he saw Mila's love slain, there was the loudest and longest thunderstorm ever seen by anyone. He was ashamed. How was he to face his best friend now that he had failed in the one thing she had tasked him with? It was also the day he became a curse to the Yorite people. Of the twenty thousand, he was the only one to return home live.

Since then, Azra had never stepped on a battlefield without Mila by his side.

"I am sorry."

"You should be," she responded, still avoiding his gaze.

There was a moment of silence before Sila spoke of her departure for home. Mimo and Siza were close behind her and from the looks of it, both were going to pass out as soon as they reach their beds.

"I must be on my way as well," Mila spoke and Azra offered to walk her home. She considered if her irritation for him was enough to deny him that right for a while. In the end, she and he were strolling in the night's air towards Mila's house.

"The sky is beautiful tonight," Mila spoke as they both walked. Azra could see the appeal, but was more concerned that Mila was under the influence now.

"Most people prefer the beauty of a sunrise."

"That's because they do not understand the lure of the moonlight. The same way they do not understand you."

Azra was now very sure that Mila was drunk. She was only philosophical when she was feeling loose and free. That generally happened when she was assisted by rum.

"The Royal girl seems to have a liking towards you."

He almost fell face first on the ground after that comment. What in all blazes brought about all of this from Mila?

"It is irrelevant. She can never understand this life of mine."

"Is that why you refuse to love, Azra? Because you believe that no woman would understand you as you are?"

He was quiet now. She had never asked him about his love life, drunk or sober. Why had he brought about Edga in their conversation earlier?

"Or is it because I am not good enough?"

Azra was now growing quickly uncomfortable with this conversation. Mila was an attractive woman. Ok, if Azra was being sincere, she was more than just attractive, she was a beautiful woman. She was strong and independent, a quality any man would revere in a woman. She was also opinionated and would never take anyone's word as true until she investigated it more for herself.

So why didn't he have her as his beloved? Was it the notions of having known her for too long that she had become something like a sibling to him? Or was it the reminder on Mila's face about the promise he had failed to honor?

"Oh there you are!"

Azra jumped at the sound. He had been so grasped in Mila's words that he did not notice they had already reached her home. The plump woman at the doorway was shorter than Mila but still had the same slick black hair as the drunk woman in Azra's arms. Were it not for the creases on her face, Azra thought she would have passed as Mila's twin anyday.

"I'll take her here, my boy." The woman spoke as Azra carefully placed Mila in her arms, a soft snore emanating from her, "must have been a good party if she is this passed out."

"Victories must be celebrated according to their magnitude, ma'am."

"Oh, enough with that 'ma'am' nonsense. How long have I told you to call me Ella?"

"I believe since I was sixteen winters. But Miral would never allow it and so it is a habit that has stuck with me."

"Cheeky as always," the woman spoke as she half walked, half dragged Mila upstairs, no doubt to her room. Azra walked in and closed the door behind him. The house was warm with the blazing fire in the fireplace. The surfaces gleamed and it was a testament as to how Ella did not believe in dust of any sort in her house, which got Azra thinking just how dirty his house must be being almost a fortnight since he was in it.

"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" Ella's voice came from the stairway as she descended it.

"No, thank you. I must be off myself."

The older woman sighed to herself. She however, told him to take some bread with him since she was sure there was no food in his house. Azra didn't argue with her on this. She did make the best bread in all of Oak, anyway.

Mila's words stuck with him all the time he was walking to his dwelling place. He had never committed to loving any individual in a romantic way. He would say that he did not have any time for it, but that would be a lie. He knew that since Miral had died, he had lost any affinity to look for love in a woman. Mila had been there before even Miral left him. That was not the same as finding a total stranger now to love now.

Why was he even thinking about love? Didn't he have more pressing matters to worry about? The Black Mother had given him much to ponder on. He would occupy his brain more with useful things than fantasies of the fairer gender.

But now, as he switched on the lights, he needed to concentrate on how he would have to clean a house while still having six mugs of rum in him.