One balmy summer evening in Gaipan, the Freedom Fighters celebrated a successful Fire Nation caravan raid that they had conducted the week prior. The shipment had contained various war supplies and provisions— among them armor, weapons, and enough food rations to sustain the entire camp for more than a month—and to boot the Fighters had managed to conduct the mission without a single casualty. Naturally, for their efforts, the core group had been permitted to pick through the non-essential loot for small trinkets and luxuries: Sneers had recovered some sacred artifacts pillaged from the Air Temples, The Duke and Pipsqueak had busied themselves over some schematic diagrams of Fire Nation war machines, Longshot had claimed several sets of Yu Yan arrows, and even Jet had managed to find a couple of maps and letters that would certainly aid in a future invasion (this, of course, in addition to the small horde of dirty magazines he smuggled out under his shirt and a barrel of Fire Nation whiskey he’d surreptitiously claimed the day before).
Smellerbee, on the other hand, had taken interest in a particularly large glass fishing float she’d dug out of a box at the back of the supply cart. After some careful maneuvering she’d managed to hoist the float up to her private deck, where she then set to work converting it into a lantern.
The night of the celebration she decided to unveil her project to Longshot, figuring that the archer would enjoy a quiet respite from the hustle and bustle on the mess deck. Smellerbee laughed at his perplexity as she lowered the makeshift lantern into view, explaining that the two would need to capture some fireflies and place them into the apparatus in order to render the instrument functional.
Several minutes later the pair had managed to fill the lantern enough to yield a soft glow: one that reached out with subtle pulses and tickled the senses, bathing all in its vicinity in ethereal light.
Longshot gently cupped his hands around the insect that he determined would be the last addition to the fixture, holding it gingerly as Bee readied herself at the lantern hatch. He nodded, coaxing the firefly inside as she opened the trapdoor. Despite his care the archer’s spindly fingers weren’t enough to cover the opening and, sensing an eminent escape, Smellerbee swiftly covered the gaps with her own fingers.
Smellerbee had offered a hasty and somewhat flustered apology as she then guided their hands from the hatch, snapping down the lid as soon as they cleared it. It was only after the swordswoman had retracted her hands that Longshot realized how warm she had been.