This was one of those "growing experiences" Korra was always talking about. The ones that supposedly helped me overcome some trauma or fear but always left me feeling incredibly awkward and usually ended with her laughing at my expense.
That was what I kept telling myself as I surveyed the vast field west of the camp, trying my best to ignore the ten thousand pairs of eyes watching me. I'd expected some soldiers to be interested in the duel, even more so because it involved an apostle, but all of them? Surely they had better things to do than watch two young demonkin try to kill each other.
It was a growing experience, I reminded myself, shooting a glare at Korra. I was acutely aware of my tail flicking back and forth in anxiety. Everyone in the army knew what that meant by now, and my blush only darkened at that thought. I was starting to doubt the sincerity of this "growing experience." She just wanted to watch Gayron and me fight. That had to be it.
