Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The loch has the appearance of a bowl of soup, murky and with steam coiling up in thick blankets from the broath. Azula never had any such love for the water, much less being in such a flimsy boat. Though Zhao is rather adamant that his boat is the sturdiest in the whole of Scotland.

She squints out into the fog, trying her hardest to get a sense of anything really. The weather vexes her to a degree--just how the hell is she supposed to get a magazine worthy shot in these conditions?
At the very least, she supposes that she has the satisfaction of winning another debate. The one wherein Zuko had insisted that her rather pricey waterproof camera equipment was a waste of cash. She carefully shields her camera under the protective layer of her new camera cover.
With careful hands, she cleans the lens with her shirt and holds the camera out. She messes with it for a moment or two, zooming in and out trying to find an optimal focus.

"Can you put that away!?" Zuko snaps. "We're not here to take pictures this time.”

Perhaps he isn’t, but she is. It is how she funds getting new equipment and their trips as a whole from gas money to hotel fees. She is about to remind him as much when he continues. “We're here to get rid of that thing once and for all!"

"Get rid of it?" Azula asks as she snaps a test picture.

"Kill it, lass." Zhao clarifies

"I know what he means." Azula grumbles. "Killing it was never part of the plan."

"It's what we brought ye here tae do." Zhao shrugs.

Zuko nods in agreement. "That's what I came to do. I didn't sail all the way to Scotland to gawk at the thing."

Azula is none surprised to hear it. “We don’t need to hunt down everything that has a vague sense of mystery to it.”

“We’re cryptid hunters.”

“I prefer, investigators or researchers.” She counters. All the same she is certain that she won’t get through to him. He has a vicious passion that she doesn’t share. A certain blinding need for vengeance. She recalls with vivid clarity standing in a graveyard on a dreary morning like this one, peering at a grave marked with their mother’s name. Perhaps she doesn’t share his hot-tempered bloodlust because she wasn’t as close with the woman. Or perhaps it is simply that she handles her mother’s passing differently--her temperament is starkly different from her brother’s. “There is only one Loch Ness Monster, if we kill her, we waste research opportunities.” She doesn’t want to admit it, but she has a soft spot for certain monsters. Something she attributes to having been accused of being one for the better part of her life.

It is a strange feat to know that it is Zuko who adores the fame and glory that comes with conquering the town terror. It is more like her to covet the thrill of a conquer.Such has been her nature since she had learned to speak. And yet she finds herself enjoying the smaller aspects of the hunt. Much like Iroh, she had a knack for adventure, the roads they constantly take to provide her with a sense of ease and clarity. Her camera doesn’t just capture the unknown. Its lens have captured mundane beauty and the average road trip sights.
More like herself, Azula also enjoys the intellectual acclaim that came from studying the remains and the behavioral patterns the cryptids had once exhibited in life. She enjoys seeing her photos in the glossy pages of various nature magazines, and on the odd occasion featured on the cover.
Curiosity and prestige, vengeance and a need to protect. She supposes that it is good that they have differing goals. They can pick up what the other lacks.

Azula sighs as a light rain begins putting a dampness in her clothing. She hopes that it won’t worsen, it is hard enough already to make out anything in the dense mist. The girl yawns, they have been out here for hours now just drifting idly along. So far she has only jumped at false alarms.

The misty rain thickens into a thicker shower. Nothing unbearable but still a nuisance. She leans against the railing, staring blankly into the depths of the water.

“This is ridiculous.” Zuko throws his hands up. “Why did you insist that we try to find this thing in the fog? We’d have better luck with clearer weather?"

"Nessie doesn't like to show 'erself in the sunlight. Ah only ever see 'er in the mist." Zhao pauses. “All’a us only ever see ‘er in the mist.”

Azula rolls her eyes, she should have seen the squabble coming, bored as they all were. As their bickering progresses continued, Azula studies the water with a closer eye. A sandy cloud beneath the water seems to swirl as though more dust is being kicked up. Azula reaches for her camera. The other two are paying her no mind, heavily engrossed in their argument.

Whatever is responsible for the peculiar motion darts deeper into the water, where a visual is even harder to come by. For a long moment the water is still save for the bobbing of their boat, it puts an instinctive pounding in Azula’s heart. The underwater cloud disperses revealing a coiled indent in the sand. Azula snaps a quick picture before very softly calling, "Zuko."

"It ain't too rainy, ye just be a weakling, lad." Zhao declares boldly.

"Alright, you tell me what you see out there." Zuko points at an extraordinarily dense patch of fog.

A few feet ahead the water churns and splits. What little light that is able to peirce through the mist, glints off of whatever is emerging. "Zuko." Azula repeats with a hint more urgency, but not enough concern to put her camera down. This could be her one chance to get the perfect snapshot, to provide definitive proof…
She can earn them a very stable income.

"Ah ken see a buncha trees." Zhao interrupts her thoughts.

"Those aren't trees they're large rocks."

"They're trees, ye arse."

The creature begins to rise, slowly and gracefully, its motions tantalizing Azula. With a grin, she takes another picture and another just in case she somehow managed to miss her first shot. From what she can see in the gloomy half-light, the creature is obsidian black in color with a green sheen when the light hits it just right. And with, as she perceives, a smooth texture. She thinks that it is more akin to dolphin skin than fish scales. It could probably pass for an eel if it weren’t so massive and hadn’t it such an impressive maw. "Zuzu” She tries again and with more volume. “I think that you’ll care more about this than winning your petty…”

Zuko threw his hands into the air again, "The sun could be beaming red-hot into my eye sockets, I'd still be have better luck sighting Nessie than I do right now!"

By now, Nessie has been well and roused by their dispute. Her slender neck rises completely from the water. Azula can faintly make out what looks like a dorsal fin. The creature opens its mouth to reveal something akin to a set of shark teeth. Geniuine concern begins to set in and Azula wonders if she has been mistaken in think that Nessie is a more demure and friendly beast.
The fog curls ominously around the creature’s long neck. With a half satisfied and half horrified expression, Azula takes her magazine quality shot. To Zuko she hollars at full volume, “you'll have a better chance of sighting her if you turn around and look!"

Zhao spares her only an uncarring backwards glance, "Eh…what's the lass fussin' aboot?"

In one final display of immaturity, Zuko looks right at the sea monster and says pointedly to Zhao, "I don't know I can't see it through the mist." Azula has to admire that reckless brazeness of it all. She rolls her eyes as Nessie surges.

Ever an oppertuinist she smugly remarks, "I told you that I'd need it eventually."

“Really, you want to do this now?” Zuko grumbles.

“You and Zhao blew me off for petty debates.” Azula shrugs as Nessie slams into their boat. Azula stumbles and clutches her camera protectivly.

"Lassie, get yer priorities taegether." Zhao remarks.

The boat rocks with the collision of the beast's body and sea-sickness sets in. Upon gazing at a decently large dent in the ship’s steel haul, Azula recalls that swimming is not her strong suit.

"Still don't want to kill it?" Zuko asks hopefully.

Oddly, she doesn’t. She frowns in concentration as she fights to get the boat’s engine whirring again. Unlike herself, Zhao didn't seem to have come all that prepared for this endeavor. She looks at the dashboard. "You didn't happen to bring any extra fuel did you?"

"Int it much left, but Ah goat some." Zhao rummages through his belongings.

"Hurry up and find it!" Zuko grimaces as the Loch Ness Monster lands a third strike. Zuko, despite Azula’s protests, takes hold of his gun again and cocks it. He ignored her outrage and took aim, firing a shot at the patch of water wherein Nessie had been last spotted.

"You're just going to make her angry." Azula cautions. "We won't stand a chance then."

"If I hit the right spot…" Zuko starts.

"We're not killing it!" Azula argues again.

"It'll kill us."

She can’t quite refute that line of reasoning other than pointing out that they had picked a fight in Nessie's territory. Regardless, Azula very much wants to escape with her life and her camera. Reluctantly she releases her hold on Zuko’s arm.
He steadied his gun once more only to have his nearly perfect alignment stolen by another blow. This time the boat overturns. The option to right it once more is stolen by Nessie's stubby but powerful tail coming down on it with a vengeance.

"Ah shite." Zhao yells as he finds himself dipping beneath the waves.

"Shut up and swim." Azula instructs. For her it is easier said than done with the extra weight of her camera. But she'll be damned if she lets their efforts go completely to waste. She scans, with a swelling sense of panic, the water for a chunk of the boat or any large sea debris. Some distance down the lake she spies a fairly large log. All she has to do was make it there.

She is about to vocalize her plan upon realizing that this seems to be a case of every man to himself, for Zuko and Zhao are a good many strokes ahead of her. She doesn’t think that they mean to leave her behind; she has an athletic history, why would they fret over her? Even if such isn’t the case, neither of the pair pay any mind to each other either. With nothing else to do, and a sea monster hot on her trail, she takes a deep breath and pushed herself through the water as fast as she could muster. She is distressed to find, that she isn’t fast at all between the camera and the bagginess of her clothing. Azula curses to herself, her belly tying itself in knots as the gravity of the situation begins to settle in.

She tries to gauge the distance between herself and the shoreline.

It was so far…

So far and she knows damn well that she can’t swim. She shudders as Nessie draws nearer. They have already lost their parents to these creatures. She doesn’t want to die. Not like this, not helplessly treading water. She tries to kick herself forward but the motions are so foreign to her. Her body slips beneath the surface and she finds herself truly hoping that Nessie would devour her. It seems less agonizing than suffocating. Less dismal than sinking to the bottom of the loch, water logged and gathering barnacles.

.oOo.

Zuko is panting furiously panting heavily by the time he reaches the shore. His limbs are completely spent and his energy terribly depleted. He'd put so much time into this trip and will gain nothing from it, and with the world just as infested as it has ever been. The famous Loch Ness will still plague the waters a hazardously as before. He slams his fist into the sand. What kind of hunters are they if they can’t even take down one beast.
One of a lower threat level at that.

"Laddy, Ah don't see yer sister anywhere." Zhao interrupts his furious thoughts.

Zuko bolts upright and scans the beach for himself. "She's here, she has to be." He scrambles to his feet and screams her name, only to have it echo back it him. "Azula!" He shouts again. The world around him is so terribly quiet. Even Zhao has nothing to say.

Zuko balls his hands. He can’t lose her too. At times she is downright dreadful to work with, controlling and condescending. But he can’t lose her. He can’t let the supernatural claim any more of his family.

But the loneliness of the beach tells him that he already has.

The rain is falling in sheets now, even if he tries to make out her tiny form, he doesn’t have much hope of spotting it.

"Ah think we should gather a search party, aye?"

"That's not going to do any good." Zuko mumbles. "Not in this weather." It’ll be too late by the time it clears. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing her body anyhow. She looks enough like their mother to hurt him twice over.

This time Zhao doesn’t argue. "If ye wanna stand 'ere n wait then ye do that. Ah am gaun tae get some help."

Zuko supposes that he should thank the man. Instead he stares blankly at the thrashing water. A ways off, he can swear that he is able to make out the silhouette of his foe. A dark shape drawing ever closer and this time he doesn’t have his gun. Much like Azula, that seems to be lost to the sea. Yet the sheer force of his anger roots him in place—somehow, he'll avenge his sister, he’ll die doing so.
Death doesn’t seem so bad with his mother dead and his father missing. And with his sister so freshly claimed. Even still, he can practically hear her making an commanding him to stand down and let Nessie off easy.

Time crawls slowly. Nessie languidly coasts along with no sense of urgency, none the wiser to the fury she was heading towards.

Zuko can see her with more clarity now, the creature that has haunted the loch for so long. She is every bit horrifying as the locals had warned. Those eyes, large and glassy, bare into him. Fully aware of the folly it is, he takes a sizable rock in his hand. Before he can throw his rudimentary weapon, Nessie bows her head.

As if it were some mundane, every day occurrence, Azula leaps off of the creature. She looks battered, her lip bleeds at its corner. “Azula.” He whispers.

She gives him a small wave, she leans against the monster for a tad longer.

“Get away from that thing.” Zuko shouts.

Azula rolls her eyes. “This thing saved me.”

“She wouldn’t have had to if she hadn’t attacked us in the first place.”

“Honestly, Zuzu, we drove a noisy boat into the middle of the loch and began screaming and yelling…” She trails off. “Personally, I wouldn’t take kindly to someone kicking our hotell door in and causing a scene.” She runs her hand over the monster’s hide.

“That thing is…”

She cuts him off. “If it is like the creature that killed mother, then I’d be dead already.” To drive her point home, she begins stroking its snout. He cringes all over as her hand nears its mouth. She goes much too far to prove herself correct. The sea monster nudges Azula’s forehead, throwing off balance. And with a rather great sound and a surprising speed, darts back towards the cloudier parts of the loch.

With a cocky grin, Azula holds up her camera. "I still have the pictures too."

Zuko sighs, unsure if he is impressed or furious that she had managed to hang onto the camera. “So?”

Azula shrugs. “I don’t think that I will release them.”

"What do you mean you aren’t going to release them?" Zuko roars. "You went through all of that trouble to protect the damn camera and you're not going to release the photos?"

"I'm glad you're okay too, Zu-Zu." Azula waves him off. "No, I won't. None of the clearer shots anyhow. She doesn't need more people like you going after her. If they get real proof, they will go after her.”

"So what you’re trying to say is that this trip was pointless?" Zuko asks. All the same, he is grateful to be having this argument with her rather than crying over her lifeless corpse.

"Our hunts don't always have to have a point.” Azula pauses. “Not everything has a point, sometimes things just are." She shrugs. "But if it makes you feel better, no, it’s not completely pointless. I have a few decent shots, they're of better quality than most of shots of Nessie. I'll sell those."

Zuko sighs as things fully settle in. "I guess it doesn't matter right? As long as you're okay.” He has his arms around her before he realizes what he is doing. Try as she may, she isn’t able to evade his fluff and sappiness this time. “I’m also glad that I’ll never have to see Zhao again."

"I don't know about that last thing, Zu-Zu. He told me that he'd be interested in joining our duo."

"He what? That's not the truth. Please tell me that, that's not the truth."

"I don't know, I think it would be interesting to have him tagging along with us. I'd love to hear what he'd say if he came face to face with a some of the nastier beings.”

“He is not joining our team.” Zuko says firmly, he for one, could do without the visual. "I supposed we should catch up to him though. Before he gets everyone and their long dead ancestors to go looking for you."

"I don't know, I think that I might be fine with the attention." Azula smirked. She slings her camera case over her shoulder and follows Zuko up the beach.

.oOo.

She is wiped and aching up and down and wants to do nothing other than return to their hotel room. But Zuko insists on stopping for a bite to eat. She supposes that she is rather hungry too so she lets him have his way. Smelling of dirty lake water and drenched to her very soul, Azula sits in the booth and goes through her pictures. She feels a sense of pride, she has done very well this time around. They have all come out so clear and unmistakable. For a moment, she forgets about her discomforts and her faintly burning lungs. “They’re perfect Zuzu, look at them.”

He looks up from his coffee. “Yeah that one is pretty nice. But which ones are you submitting?”

Azula scrolls through the camera’s library and shows him a few. The ones that are somewhat blurry, but still distinguishable. “They’re clear enough to get attention but blurry enough to leave room for debate.”

Zuko nods.

“Aye lass, laddie.” Zhao greets.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zuko scowls.

“I told you that he wants to join us.”

“Do Ah need tae submit an application?” He asks.

“Yes.” Zuko answers as Azula asks, “can you fire a gun?”

“Ah ken, very well, lass.”

“Are you any good at running?”

“Ah used tae be on the track team.”

“Are you easily frightened.”

He shakes his head no.
“Hired.”

“What!?” Zuko spits his coffee back into his cup. “No. No way.”

“I think that we can use an extra hand.” Azula shrugs. “Especially if we’re actually going to start taking the hunting aspect more seriously.” For the longest time they have been going back and forth trying to decide if they should take on higher risk cryptids.

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “We can’t afford…”

“Ah ken pay fer meself.” Zhao cut in. “Ah ken even take my own car.”

On a normal day, she would have a business card to hand the man, but those are floating at the bottom of Loch Ness. Instead she scrawls her number onto a napkin. “We’ll be in town for a few more days, until uncle finds us a new job.”

.oOo.

Zuko watches his sister pick through a pile of sheets, newspaper clippings, headline printouts, and marked up maps that she has spread out on the floor. She has a pen dangling from her mouth as she narrows her eyes in concentration.

She takes the pen from her mouth to check off the box next to, ‘track Nessie’. He follows her gaze down the list.

“Uncle has a lot of options for us this time around, which one do you want to go for?” She asks as she riffles through a few of the printouts before holding them out to him.

Zuko picks his way through them and he knows that she knows what he is going to say. “I want to track the wendigo. What do you want to do?”

Azula peers at the marked map. Just as well as she knows of his goals, Zuko knows that she is trying to decide which being will bring them closer to where they’d last heard from their father. Evidently, that puts their choices in alignment for once.

Looking over Iroh’s reports she mutters. “I’ll book a flight to Canada.” He can see on her face that she doesn’t like it. She isn’t any more fond of the cold than he is. “In the man time,” she holds out a small sum of cash, “be a dear and get us some winter wear.”

She gives the notes another scan. “From the looks of it Canada has quite a few creatures out and about this autumn. We can make a few side stops along the way.”

Chapter Text

Pacific silver fir and western white pine tower over them, creating what looked like an impenetrable wall of woodland. As if the forest isn’t dense enough already, black cottonwood and mountain hemlock fill the spaces between. It is a wonder to Zuko that they have managed to get here at all.

His mood had already been dreary before, with Zhao officially recruited and having rambled for hours, during their flight, about life on the Scottish highlands. Zuko stands before a large and crystal clear lake, littered with massive boulders and small stepping stones. Normally this may have lifted his spirits, but a light and billowing snowfall steals that away.  

He shivers, cursing his sister for renting a tent instead of booking a hotel. “I thought that you like to plan ahead.” He finally snaps.

Azula looks up from her work. “Zhao, prove your worth to this team and finish setting up camp.” And she turns to Zuko, “yes, this is part of the plan. Don’t you think that it will be easier to hunt down forest dwelling beasts if we are in the forest?” She shrugs. “Besides, I figured that we could save a little money this way.”

“I think that it’s easier to hunt when I’m not freezing my ass off.” He grumbled.

“When Ah was a lad…” Zhao starts and Zuko groans loudly, sorry that he had spoken at all.

“Try to relax a little.” Azula comments.

He only folds his arms over his chest, muttering, more to himself than her, about how she always has to have things her way. How they can never do what he wants, never mind that he had chosen the final say about their destination this time around.

Azula sighs, “come over here and look at this.”

For a spiteful moment, he thinks of ignoring her, but he comes to sit next to her on the log she has perched herself upon. “Ever hear of stick indians, Zuzu?”

“No?”

“Neither have I.” She replies. “According to uncle, there have been reports of them. Apparently, they’re becoming a bother tourists and locals around here…”

“And you want to look into it?” He asks.

“We’re here.” She replies. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

“Because we’re here for the wendigo.”

“I think that we can handle both.” She insists.

“Ah shite!”

Azula flinches at the sound of the tent collapsing.

“You wanted him here.” Zuko remarks.

.oOo.

The snow continues to fall, it would almost be soothing if it weren’t so like the night their mother went missing. Azula rolls onto her side, thinking of Iroh’s notes. He doesn’t have much for her to work with aside from a basic rundown of what they are dealing with. They are supposedly hairy and not unlike the better known big-foot. They have a knack for trickery and leading people astray, if Iroh has his facts right. She rolls back onto her back and watches, from the nearest window as the snow falls around them. A gust of wind rocks the tent, but not jarringly enough for her to wake the other two. It is a wonder that Zuko sleeps at all. She supposes that he had spent all of his energy on pointless rage in the daylight hours.

She ought to be sleeping herself but for some reason or another, sleep doesn’t want to come to her.

Azula tries to analyze her own emotions; she doesn’t have angry or depressive thoughts to haunt her mind. She considers for a moment that she is afraid. Yet, that isn’t it either. Her heart doesn’t race, she doesn’t feel the need to look every which way.

Perhaps it has to do with the flight and a time change.

The wind whistles outside of the tent.

With no sign that her body wants to sleep, Azula gives in and grabs her camera, she doesn’t often take nighttime photography. As quietly as she can, she unzips the tent and slips from it. She makes sure to seal the flaps once more to keep Zuko from complaining about the cold.

She hears, again, the wind whistling against the tent. She wanders away from the sound and towards the lake. Under the moonlight it is ethereal. If not for the snow she know that its surface would be smooth and undisturbed. As things are, the snow puts a certain sparkle to the water. It is perfect, she lets the camera flash. Once and then twice more before she seeks out something else to capture.

She thinks, briefly, of climbing atop one of the large boulders and taking a photo from a new vantage point. She gets a rather vivid mental image of herself slipping on the slick snow and crushing her camera as she topples into the lake.

The whistle of the wind comes again, this time, a chill shivers down her spine. At first, she can’t place why. She tries to push the feeling aside, but the snow in her hair, the deeply quite woods, she remembers the feeling.

Remembers the look Ursa exchanged with Ozai.

She creeps away from the pond and towards her tent, the only thing keeping her at bay is the absence of an abysmal odor. They always have a scent. A truly wretched scent. But the absence of woodland chatter it wakes the most primitive of her senses.

She hears the whistle of the wind again.

This time it registers.

Her hair isn’t fluttering. She doesn’t feel the gust on her bare face.

With that realization she comes to decide that the sound itself is distorted. The next time she hears it, she can swear that it is as though the sound is being played in reverse.

Azula goes tense, it is near the tent.

And tenser still when the whistling sounds from behind her and then to the side of her. There are more of them now and they create a disorienting whir. She fights down the anxiety that they’ve managed to rouse.

She hustles back into the tent. As long as she doesn’t let them lure her out there she should be fine. Her dread doesn’t waver, not even slightly. “Zuko!” She hisses. He grumbles something sleepily gargled. “Zuko!” This time she offers him a sturdy kick.

She dodges a reflexive punch. “Christ, Azula! What?” He shouts, sending her nerves skyrocketing. She clamps a hand over his mouth as Zhao bolts up with a “wha’cha fussin’ aboot?”  She hushes him too.

She almost regrets having done so. She can hear, with more clarity, a scampering from outside. Zuko turns to her and mouths a soft, “what the hell.”

Azula simply points at Iroh’s notes.

“Ah’m gonna shoot ‘em.” Zhao proclaims.

“Take one shot and you’re fired.” Azula whispers harshly.

He opens his mouth for a voluminous protest. Azula throws a hand up, “one word and you’re going back to Scotland.” She threatens quietly. She has a hunch that they were going to have to wait this one out. She chances a peek out of the window, hoping to see the deep blue of approaching dawn. The sky is still inky and spotted with stars and flecks of snow.

She knows that the night will be long.

Any desire to ignore the outside chaos and sleep it off is sapped away at the sound of laughter. Its quality is uncanny, human but with an off-putting edge too it. Something that licks and plays with the most instinctual recesses of her mind.

“Ken Ah shoot it now?” Zhao asks, keeping his voice low.

Logic yearns for her to say yes, but the part of her that is off-put by the laughter speaks first, “you’ll only make it worse.”

She feels vulnerable, terribly so. More so than when she had been sinking in Loch Ness. At least then, she knew what and where her foe was. Zuko’s glower leaves her feeling worse. He had already been vexed by her choice to camp at all. She supposes that it is on her entirely if they tear through the tent and make off with one of them.

She hopes, for the sake of her conscience that they take her.

A stick hits their tent and Zuko jolts. She wants to day that she hadn’t flinched, but Zuko gripping her hand tells her that she did. She can’t remember the last time he had held her hand, but she thinks that it was when they were children.

Azula looks at her phone, it is only 3:14.

She swallows, suddenly four hours is dauntingly long.

Her eyes begin to droop at 4:00 and she fights to keep them open. Zhao snores softly, with his gun still in hand. Azula thinks that maybe he has it right. They can’t be lured out of their tents if they are asleep. Maybe she should just cave to her body’s demands. She can use the rest. Briefly she thinks of pulling out the novel she’d brought along and reading until sleep overtakes her. But she doesn’t want to attract attention with the light of her phone.

Instead she moves further from her brother and wraps herself up in her blankets, the uneasy flutters never leaving her belly. Zuko seems to follow in suit, but moves his sleeping bag closer to her. She wants to scold him for the loud shuffling noises, but there isn’t a point. The creatures already know that they are there.

Their eerie scuffling and chirping persists but the ruckus doesn’t come any closer.

It doesn’t make her feel any safer.

In fact, it only leaves her wondering why they aren’t attacking. Perhaps they are waiting for them to let their guard down. Perhaps they are toying with them. She digs through her bag for her iPod. She puts her headphones on, the noise will drive her insane if she doesn’t.

“Don’t pay them any mind, Azula.” The words play themselves back in her mind. “Some beings just like the attention.” She remembers smiling up at him and nodding as he tucked her in. She wishes that he were there.

Chapter Text

Azula sees the pink of dawn and is embarrassed to find that she had, at some point, fallen asleep clinging to Zuko. Her music is still pulsing in her ears, she pauses it and plucks out her earbuds. Despite her exhaustion, she scooches away from Zuko, hoping that he and Zhao wouldn’t notice that she’d curled up so close to her brother at all.

Despite the golden rays of dawn and the return of the forest chatter, Azula is reluctant to venture into the world outside of the tent. Despite her hesitation, she unzips the flap and takes in the fresh air.

All in all, it is a nice day; blue skies with a generous helping of blue jay and chikadee. Their chirps are inviting and reassuring. She catches a glimpse of some type of small fish swimming about in the lake.

She also catches sight of the mess. There is a scatter of sticks everywhere and their campfire had been stomped on and the ashes kicked about. Azula frowns to herself, at least those things had left them some new firewood.

Zuko wanders out of the tent and with a yawn stretches his arms. His expression is dull with tiredness but he doesn’t seem angry. She thinks that he just has to wake up more for the irritation to settle in.

She decides to test the water. “Good morning, Zuzu.”

He ignores her.

He shakes his head, “you say something?”

“I said good morning.”

“If you say so.” He mutters. “Can we get a hotel tonight?”

Azula bites the inside of her cheek, knowing that she is about to push something that she has already pushed way too hard. “I was looking at the maps and there’s a reservation nearby. I was hoping to talk to the tribe and some of the non-native locals.”

“Talk to them about what!?” It isn’t quite a shout, but his voice is some shriller with surprise.

“What happened last night.” She replies. “I’d like to know exactly what we dealt with.”

“Or we can just…”

“Runaway? You wanted to shoot the Loch Ness Monster but you want to let these things go free?”

Zuko grumbles something to himself and rubs the back of his head. “Fine, we can go to the reserve, but if they tell us to leave things alone…”

“We’ll leave things alone.” Fleetingly, she thinks of running the plan by Zhao but ultimately decides that giving him no say in their endeavors will be part of the hazing process. Besides, the man was snoring loudly enough to let her know that she couldn’t wake him if she tried.

.oOo.

Watching the Salish boy flirt with his sister is an unexpected unpleasantry. For him anyhow, Azula seems rather pleased with the attention. She doesn’t usually get this brand of it. He is teaching her to fish by hand.

“Eh, laddie, ken ye get the lass back on track?”

“I really wish that I could.”

At his next glance he sees her showing the boy some of the photos she has taken, not that it is uncharacteristic of her to show off her talents.

“Could ye try?”

Zuko hops off of the rock he had perched himself upon and strides up to his sister and the Native boy.

“I didn’t give these to the press.” Zuko hears her say.

“Oh shit, dad would have a heart attack if he saw one of those on his fishing trip.” The boy laughs.

“She’s pretty helpful, actually.” Azula comments casually as though she is speaking of a common household pet.

“I’ll have to get myself a Loch Ness Monster.” He grins.

“Azula!” Zuko calls. “We’re supposed to be investigating the Tsiatko.”

The boy seems to freeze. Zuko feels many eyes upon him, most stare at him with either horror or outrage or a gut-lolling mixture of both.  Even Azula seems to go rigid. She cuffs the side of his head and in a low whisper says, “you’re not supposed to say that.”

“What?” He questions above a whisper.

“Stick Indians is a euphemism! You’re not supposed to say their real name.” She hisses. “You might as well have called them here.”

“How do you know?”

“Sokka told me.”

Zuko groans to himself. It is his first and only time in a native reservation and he has already mentioned some sort of taboo.

“It is time to go.” A man speaks up his voice is hard and unwavering. His expression just as so.

“That’s my father.” Sokka mumbles to Azula. “Chief Hakoda.”

“He seems friendly.” Zuko mutteres.

“Ye ken’t tell me what ta do, ya eejit!”

Hakoda’s expression shifts from steely to fiery in a flicker. He turns to Sokka, “see, son, this is why the white men aren’t allowed here.”

“What about Japanese men?” Zuko, much to the shock and annoyance of Azula, digs himself deeper.

“Apparently no better than the white men.” He sends a shifted glance to Zhao.

“He didn’t mean any disrespect.” Azula states smoothly.

“Aye sure did lassie!” Zhao declares, earning himself another aggravated stare

“Then you can go back to the tent, Zhao.” Zuko recognizes the way her voice lowers. He only hopes that Zhao will take the hint. On the other hand, he will take no issue if his sister decides to kick him off of the team. “Zuzu didn’t mean…”

“Whatever he meant , he has cursed us all.” Hakoda’s voice took on a quality to match Azula’s. “It is time for white and yellow folks to leave.”

Zuko’s face flushed with both anger and shame.

“Dad!” Exclaimed another voice. A girl, perhaps Azula’s age.

Zuko swears that he heard Sokka mumble, “here we go again.”

“They’re not all the same, dad.”

“Katara, go back inside.”

But the girl doesn’t retreat. Instead, she stands next to her brother. “Why do you always do this?”

Hakoda addresses her more compassionately. “I know that you don’t always agree with me, Katara. But this time I have a good reason to evict the outsiders.”

She shoots him a challenging look and folds her arms over her chest. Zuko finds himself flushing, he has to admire her spunk.

“That one.” Hakoda points and Zuko and his blush intensifies under Katara’s stare. “Invited an evil into our homes.”

“An evil?”

“Tsiatko.” Sokka whispers to her.

“Sokka!” His father snaps.

“What? He already said it, might as well say it more.”

Hakoda pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now you are a target.”

Zuko catches Katara shudder as Hakoda paces back and forth. He comes to a stop and addresses a new face, “Bato, gather the elders, we have much to discuss.” Something about the way he says it makes Zuko’s stomach lurch.

.oOo.

This ventrue has been nothing but mistake after mistake and she wishes that they would have just gone after the wendigo instead. As things are, they are on their way back at their campsite with two new guests in tow.

“Sorry…” Zuko mutters for the upteenth time.

Sokka shrugs, “dad can be a hardass about old lore.”

“It isn’t just lore…” Azula trails off.

“I think that he thinks you guys invaded our tribe and tried to destroy it or something.” Sokka noted.

“He didn’t have to kick you out.” Zuko replied.

“Sokka drew them in...” Katara mumbled softly.

“So he decided to sacrifice his own son?” Zuko argued.

“He’s just trying to do what’s best for the tribe.” Sokka justified.

At least he is handling it with some poise, dignity, and responsibility. Azula can accept that. “Will he let you come home?”

“I guess, maybe.” Sokka replies.

“If they don’t get us first.” Katara shoved her hands into her pockets.

“You should go back, Kat.”

“Not without you.” She frowns.

The start of their bickering reminds Azula all too much of she and Zuko. She thinks of stirring something up. Something about how he could be so careless when interacting with other cultures and customs. She knows that she will be met with the assertion that it is her fault for suggesting further investigation of the stick indians. So she keeps herself quiet.

They walk in silence for at least a half an hour. The forest is beginning to take on the warm golden and orange haze of sunset. It is almost beautiful, how the rays filter through the canopy and glisten off of last night’s frost. The stuff outlines the edge of leaves like a fine and glittering diamond dust. There is a sprinkle of snow that hardens blades of golden grass that cruches and crackles beneath her feet. But the spectacle does little to ease her mind. She doesn’t even pull her camera out as she would normally. No, Azula finds herself growing much too tense with each inch the sun falls. She looks over her shoulder to see Sokka clutching a talisman.  “What’s that?” She asks if for no other reason than to think about something else.

Her attempt doesn’t work. “Dad was nice enough to give Kat and I some wards.”

“Will they work, laddy?” Zhao asks.

Sokka shrugs. “Never had to use one before.”

“What exactly are they?” Azula asks.

“Nasty spirits.” Sokka answered.

“Dad says that they sometimes eat people that they capture.” Katara adds.

Azula regrets her inqary. She looks at the map, hoping that they will reach the campsite soon, before there is no sunlight to read the map with. She curls a strand of her hair around her finger. They still had some time to spare. She lets the thought relax her.

She shouldn’t have.

Had she kept her nerves appropriately on edge she might have been ready.

It starts with a stick.

Just one.

It nails Zuko in the face. His face bunches up as if he’d just smelled something foul. It would have been funny had the warning not been so abundant. They carry on for another mile or so before the laughter begins.

At first Azula thinks that it is human. She wants to believe that it is, but the prickling sensation and the goosebumps that dot her skin say otherwise. “It isn’t even nightfall.” She hears Katara whisper.

“We attracted a lot of attention today.” Sokka points out.

Azula looks to the sky as a whistle carries itself on the breeze. They’re sunlight is disappearing much too quickly for her tastes. She wonders if it really matters at all. A tent isn’t much of a barrier and she doesn’t think that she can call for a ride so late in the evening. Her only sense of comfort is the pistol Zhao has strapped to his belt and the rifle he has in the tent.

.oOo.

Zuko feels no safer in the tent than he does out in the woods. Azula has a fire roaring and is, with commentary from Zhao, telling Sokka and Katara about their adventure with Nessie. He can tell by her tone that it is her favorite hunt so far. It is almost childishly cute how much she seems to like the Loch Ness Monster. Maybe if they make it out this one he will buy her a Nessie plush toy or something.

Part of him wants to join the story telling, but he knows that he is too distracted to listen. He can’t take his ears off of the forest. What’s worse is that he knows that it is all on him. It is almost worse than realizing that he hasn’t heard a laugh nor a whistle from the forest.

He gets the sense that they are playing with him. With all of them.

And yet the forest is still comfortingly abuzz.

He supposes that if he wants to use the bathroom, he should do it before the forest goes unnaturally still. As much as he hates doing so he knows that he should probably let the rest of the group know before he wanders into the forest, even if it is within sight of the tent. Reluctantly he mumbles, “hey, I’m gonna...you know…”

“Need a partner?” Sokka asks. “I’ve been holding it for the past hour because I don’t want to go alone.”

“Really?” Azula mutters.

And just like that, Zuko has not just one unwanted guests but two. They leave Azula and Katara rolling their eyes and chattering amongst themselves.

Chapter Text

Zuko gives the fire one last glance before making his way behind a tree. He gets his zipper unzipped and is about to do as nature is commanding when he hears a crack.

“Pretty spooky out here isn’t it.”

Zuko jolts, his face flushing with embarrassment and irritation. “What the hell, man!?” He exclaims.

“Sorry.” Sokka apologizes.

With a sigh, Zuko grumbles, “I can’t do my business with you standing here. Go bother Zhao or something.”

Sokka laughs, “well that’s kind of a problem because I’m kind of scared to go alone.”

“Zhao is over there…” Zuko scans the forest, trying to gauge where to point. Eventually he picks a random spot, “somewhere.” He knows that he is going to have to accept defeat because he can’t hold it any longer, and Sokka is making it pretty clear that he isn’t going anywhere.

He supposes that the other boy will be tending to his own business anyhow, he won’t be paying him much mind. He carries on with what he had begun moments ago. For once, he wishes that the whistling he hears is a catcall.

Breaking the golden rule of bathroom etiquette, Zuko looks at Sokka who meets his gaze.

“Looks like we should hurry things up.” Sokka comments.

.oOo.

Azula pokes at the fire, stirring the smoldering ashes with a stick. She draws her hood over her head.

“How long does it take them to use the bathroom?” Katara grumbles.

Azula shrugs, “longer than it should. They better get back here soon because it’s freezing out here.”  Katara is nice enough, she supposes, but after a good while of conversation, she finds that they don’t have very much in common. Katara is a sweet and caring girl, Azula is more reserved and hard to talk to. Not that she isn’t trying to make conversation.

She can use a friend.

Especially with Mai and TyLee having parted ways with her after a rather questionable night involving an ouija board.

“Have you ever dealt with a spirit before?” Azula asks.

“I think, once, when I was really little.” Katara replies. “Dad says that a spirit is what killed my mother. It got into her soul and got her sick.”

Azula nods. “Our mother was killed by something too. That’s why Zuzu wanted to come out here.”

“What was she killed by?”

Azula doesn’t get to answer, a stick falls at her feet. She certainly hasn’t asked for more firewood. “I’m going to go check on them.”

Katara stands with her. She calls out for her brother and received no reply.

“Zuzu?” Azula tries. She could have sworn that they hadn’t gone that far.

“The lad’s that way, Ah think.” Zhao  pointed. “Ah tol’ the botha them that Ah’d meet ‘em at the tent.”

Azula looks down at the man’s belt. “Give me that.”

He shoots her a puzzled look.

“The pistol, Zhao. Give it to me.” Her command is accented by a shrill whistle that has her shuddering and reminds her of why she wants the gun in the first place.

“Do ye even know how to use it, lass?”

“I wouldn't have asked for it if I didn’t know how to use it!” She replies. Reluctantly, Zhao hands her the pistol. “Stay here and watch the tent.” Her stomach begins to knot and she wonders if this is how Zuko had felt upon seeing her go under the water. She hears Katara call out for Sokka again. Katara follows her towards the treeline. A furiously cold breeze stirs flakes of snow from the branches and into her face. Azula shivers, the night only seems to be getting more dismal.

“Zuko, where the hell are you?” Azula shouts again. Each word that spills from her lips sends a new trill of dread through her, she knows that she is attracting attention, but it is not the attention she wants. The rustles seem to get closer but she calls for Zuko again. A hand clamps over her mouth and tugs her behind the tree, she reaches for the gun.

“Quiet.”

Her fingers go lax. She wishes that it was Zuko. “Where is…”

“I don’t know.” Sokka replied. “I was...I was being kind of obnoxious and he stormed off to get some privacy.”

She raises the gun and holds it to his chest. “If I find out he got killed because of you...” she hisses.

Sokka pushes the gun down. “Look, you can yell at me later, right now we need to be quiet.”

Azula supposes that it is horrible of her, but she doesn’t mention that Katara hadn’t followed her behind the tree. If she is going to lose her brother, then he can lose his sister. There is a snap and a crack, her breath catches. “We have to go.” She whispers.

Sokka nods.

She peeks around the silver fir and finds nothing in their path, but the feeling of eyes on her is unrelenting. She looks up, the only movement comes from the rocking of the fir branches and the snow they shake off. She motions Sokka forward but doesn’t venture any further.

Instead, she stops to listen.

She only hears that silence.

That terrible silence .

.oOo.

“Turn that off!” Katara snaps.

“Sorry.” Zuko mumbles. Even still, he hesitates before actually switching the flashlight off. The dark that settles around him is much too complete. He stares longingly at the flashlight; that thing is practically a beacon, but it gives him an illusion of safety.

He follows Katara through the forest.

“You wouldn’t happen to know which way the campground is, would you?”

“I wish I did.”  She replies, adding something that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

Katara looks at him, her eyes wide. It is dark, very much so, but the moon pierces through the canopy just enough to cast a halo of light upon her face. The whisper comes again, but her lips do not move. His heart drops like a rock. He can’t place where exactly the sound emits from, but he thinks that it is coming from the trees.

He can’t believe that he hadn’t recognized it from the start. Katara acts first, pulling him towards...he doesn’t know where. He decides that wandering aimlessly is better than standing still.

At least until he recalls that these creatures are known for leading travelers astray, not that they aren’t hopelessly lost anyways. “We should  have booked a hotel.” He grumbles for the upteeth time.

Katara holds a finger to her lips.

“They already know that we’re here!” Zuko throws his hands up. He is acting like a child about this. He takes a deep breath and tries to get a hold of himself. Quieter he says, “sorry, I’ll keep it down.”

Katara nods before tugging him into the shadows. From what she is helping him gather, Zuko realizes that the shadows are just as much of allies to them as they are to the forest spirits. He isn’t sure how long nor how far they creep along for, but the ruffling noises are growing distant and the air doesn’t seem quite so heavy.

“Here.” She mouths, and pulls him behind a large hemlock.

.oOo.

The scuffling is all around them and the whistling is only growing louder. It seems to come from every inch of the forest, drawn out and warped and with the quality of a diseased bird. Azula knows that the sound will haunt her dreams for some time to come.

She and Sokka are so perplexingly far from the path they’d started on and she has no sense of where they are at. Just how the hell is she supposed to find Zuzu if she can’t even get a sense of where she is? She looks to Sokka, he probably knows the woods better than she.

He returns her stare with a frown and a mumbled apology. “I never really leave the reservation at night. One of dad’s rules.”

She sees it on his face that he understands his father’s rules now. She wishes that her father would have put some research into Salish lore. She wishes that she wouldn’t have underestimated it. She catches a flash of movement. She doesn’t have to resist the urge to step closer to Sokka because he closes the space between them.

Azula holds herself rigid, and the gun in the direction of the movement. She sees the same something dart out of the bush. She releases her breath as two beady raccoon eyes judge her for her not unwarranted paranoia.

God, she doesn’t remember the last time she has been this alert.

A pretty lie.

She recalls it very vividly.
As sharply as she recalls the fear in her father’s eyes.

The same fear that had been there before she’d lost her mother.

“Azula!”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m going to have to hold your hand next time, aren’t I, Zuzu?”

.oOo.

“This is all my fault.” Zuko says with a soft apology. “Your dad was right, Azula and I should have just left things alone.” The tree bark is uncomfortable on his back and he can’t imagine that Katara feels much more comfy than he. She should be sleeping in a cozy house, instead snow is whipping at her cheeks and bark is pricking at her skin. He thinks that he can see some scrapes from their run.

“Sometimes you don’t have to mess with things for them to come after you.” Katara states. “These spirits go after children, Zuko. They don’t care if you’ve done nothing to them at all. It’s just fun for them to spirit people away.”

“I didn’t help anything.”  He mumbles. He never does. He knows it is a bad time, but his mind wanders. If father were there…

He doesn’t  want to know what kind of insults were to be had. The man had said it many times, that he loved his son. That he was proud of Zuko. But he never snaps at Azula, never calls her incompetent on hunts for mistakes both mundane and profound.

Ozai swore, he was adamant that he wanted to keep hunting with him.

Yet the last thing he had said before vanishing was, “why can’t you just do what you’re told boy?”

And Zuko thinks of the scar.

The long and jagged burn marks that rip across Azula’s back.

She says that it’s fine. That she doesn’t remember much of that night anyhow.

But he does.

He remembers that night so vividly.

He touches his own scar.

Zuko’s dread only grows. Because, once again, he has lost track of Azula. Not that she doesn’t make doing so easy. He can’t protect his own sister, he should at least protect Sokka’s.

So why is she pressing the talisman into his palm saying, “you need this more than I do?”

He swears that they are closing in on them. The sound of laughter intensifies like some premature victory celebration. They know that they’ve won and all Zuko and Katara can do is press themselves closer to the rough and icy bark of the tree.

Zuko curls his fingers around the talisman.

His lip curls into a snarl.

He’d made another mistake and he won’t let Katara pay for it.

. oOo .

Sokka grabs her shoulder before she can step forward.

“Sokka…”

“Listen again. Closely.”

“Azula, where are you?”

Azula finds her senses waking into a fuller brand of awareness and she can’t quite place why. Sokka’s firm grip on her doesn’t do her any favors. “Azula?” Sokka is right, she realizes; there is something off about it. It sounds just enough like Zuko to pass for him. But there is something else there, some uncanny underlying factor. Something that sets the voice apart from Zuko’s real voice.

It calls out again and she leads Sokka in the other direction. She hopes that the real Zuko is having better luck than she and Sokka. She imagines that he and Katara are doing about the same; wandering aimlessly about a dense frosty woodland.

Azula finds that she doesn’t trust the noises around her. She can hear them now, bird calls and coyote yips but they don’t bring her the comfort she assumed they would. They are now almost as ominous as the hunter’s quiet.

There is one thing that she still trusts and it is the smell of smoke. “Do you smell that?”

Sokka sniffs the air and nods.

She grabs his hand and tugs him in the direction of the fire. It is hard to track with the wind pushing it in many directions but eventually her eyes find a trail of smoke. Had she any doubts, Sokka clears them.

“I think that I know where we are.” Sokka replies. “I just hope that dad will let me in.” He scratches the back of his head.

The walk takes longer than she is comfortable with, she still has Sokka’s hand and she tells herself that it is strictly because he seems like the kind of dolt who needs to be guided--disregarding that he is more familiar with the area. He doesn’t jerk her in another direction so she believes that she has a decent sense of things for herself.

She only regrets, in full, not letting go of his hand when he stumbles over a log and pulls her down with him. Azula cringes, between the two of them they hae made a mighty ruckus.

“I thought that you said you’re a hunter.” Azula hisses.

“I never said I was a graceful one.”

The whistling reawakens with a greater, mocking intensity. She tosses most caution to the frigid wind, takes Sokka’s hand again, and bolts. She doesn’t need strategy this time around, she needs speed and agility. She just hopes that Sokka can match her own.

Branches rip at her skin, but her cheeks have grown too numb with the cold to be bothered by it. Every once in a while her hair snags on a branch. There is a sharp pinch is it tears out. The smell of fire grows soothingly more powerful.

One blubbering apology later and a shaky confession that he’d lost track of Katara later and they were back inside of the reservation. She can see it in Hakoda’s eyes that he is livid. She doesn’t know who will receive the brunt of it, she, Sokka, or Zuko.

Maybe he is like her own father; angry at himself for dealing out a heat-of-the-moment punishment with a greater weight than he’d anticipated.

Hakoda stares at him, his brows furrowed in an expression mixed between puzzlement and disgust. Under it, Azula realizes that she hasn’t let go of Sokka’s hand. She scrunches her face and drops it as though she hadn’t been into his awful pick up lines and awkward compliments earlier that morning.

.oOo.

Katara is asleep.

Zuko doesn’t know how, but she is.

He likes to think that he is just that comforting. Even so, he doesn’t feel like that much of a bodyguard. He feels small and pathetic. She shivers against him and he realizes that she is dressed rather terribly for the weather. He pulls his coat off and drapes it over her.

It is his fault so he’ll take the worst of it all.

It is his fault so he will let them take him.
Maybe if he does, they will leave her alone. So at the sound of a dozen sets of feet, he steps out of his hiding place. He braces himself for an attack.

It comes, harder than he expected. It will bruise. But he wants to cry with relief, because he hadn’t expected the blow to come from a very pissed off Azula.

“I’m going to have to follow you to the…”

He throws his arms around her and she grumbles for him to let go.

“Where is my daughter?” The man’s tone lets Zuko know that he’s in for another good punch.

“She’s sleeping.” He points at the hemlock. “I gave her my coat because she didn’t have one.”

Hakoda’s face softens considerably. Still, he knows that he isn’t in the clear. Between the three of them, they’d hassled the tribe terribly. He supposes that he’d rather face the chief than whatever is attached to those ungodly whistles.

“Stick close.” Hakoda instructs after rousing Katara. “They aren’t as likely to attack a group, but they will try to lure someone away.”

Zuko has never been so comforted to be surrounded by so many people.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of Azula. Though he wishes that he didn’t see Sokka take her hand again. He truly hopes that the man is simply a wimp and that Azula’s hand is the nearest available. She doesn’t pull her hand away and that is a bad sign. He pinches the bridge of his nose, she has just met Sokka.

He chooses to dwell on the absurdity of it, it keeps his mind from darker places.

Katara falls in line with him and gives him something else to think about when she thanks him for the coat.

.oOo.

“We ought to check on Zhao, huh?” Azula asks. Though she has a striking feeling that the Scottsman had himself a peaceful night. The stick indians had no reason to bother with him, unless they simply wanted to agitate the man.

“Yeah, we probably should.” Sokka agrees.

“Whao, whao, whao!” Zuko exclaims, “the only we here is Azula and I.”

“That’s a shame, because I was hoping for a little adventure.” Katara quirks a brow.

“You mean last night wasn’t good enough for you?” Zuko asks.

“Not quite.” Katara replies.

“Hired.” Azula mutters.

“Azula,” Zuko hisses, “we already have Zhao.”

“Yes, soon we will have a whole paranormal investigation team. Just like the one father and mother were a part of.” Azula flashes a smug smile.

“Your dad isn’t going to…”

Sokka cuts him off, “he kicked me out remember?”

“He didn’t mean it.” Katara assures. “If he did you’d still be in the forest.”

“Yeah, well…” He trails off. “I think that it’s time to leave the reservation. Don’t you think?”

Chapter Text

The stretch of road before them is long and damp from a rain that had fallen before they had made it into the area. Azula cranks the windows down and lets a breeze waft through the car. It is a particularly hot night and it had been an even hotter morning. Zhao and Sokka--Sokka especially-had complained about it all day. Azula herself found it rather nice, especially when thinking back to their more frigid endeavors. She imagines that Zuko is enjoying the weather too. 

He peers into the rearview mirror and she sees a faint little smile. There are so many crickets out tonight that she can hear them even over the wind and the car engine. 

“We need some tunes.” Sokka suggests. 

“I rather like the night noise.” Azula disagrees. 

“We’re on a cryptid hunt, we should get some Johnny Cash and Deadman’s Bones. The Doors?” 

Azula rolls her eyes. 

“Come on. Riders on the storm, into this house we’re born.”

“Please stop yer singin’ laddy.” Zhao grumbles. “I’m with the lass, crickets are fine.” 

“Come on, every good monster hunt needs a good soundtrack.”

“We’re not even on a hunt right now.”  Azula replies. “We’re just driving. Sometimes you just drive on forested roads because that’s where the GPS takes you.” 

Katara stifles a laugh. 

“Where’s our next turn?” Zuko asks. 

Katara peers down at the map. “It’s coming up soon. At the next intersection, turn right.”

Azula watches moths, mosquitoes, and fireflies flit in and out of the headlights. A light mist swirls along the road where the puddles are the thickest. She leans out of the window and snaps a few photographs.

“Azula, what did I tell you about doing that!?”

“Relax Zuzu, you aren’t driving that fast.” 

“What if a bird comes by?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Brids aren’t nocturnal, dumdum.”

“Fine. What if a bat or an owl comes by?” 

“Then I’ll have a nice photo.” Azula slips fully into the car once again. “Besides, it’s a nice night. If it were up to me, we’d park this car and take a little stroll.”

“Have ye no fear, lass?” 

Azula smirks, “not an ounce. Why? Are you afraid, Zhao?”

“It is night, we are in an unfamiliar forest, and it is misty. Of course I’m scared.” 

Azula rolls her eyes. “Yes well the car is running just fine, the weather is wonderful, and, if you shut your mouth, you can hear crickets and owls and all sorts of night sounds.” He only blinks at her. “It would be so noisy if a predator was around.”

“Turn!” Katara abruptly exclaims. 

Zuko jolts and jerks the wheel. 

“Ah shite!” Zhao shouts as the car fishtails. 

Katara grips the armrest as Sokka lets out a hollar of excitement. “I used to go do doughnuts on the gravel road until dad stopped me.” He declares as though that will help Zuko any. Azula clutches her camera protectively. 

Zuko turns the wheel a few times until he gets the car under control. “Good thing you weren’t leaning out of the window.” He declares. 

“Shut up, Zuzu.” She grumbles and folds her arms and slouches back into the car seat. 

“Are we oot of the forest yet?” Zhao asks. 

Katara looks at the map, “not for a while, Zhao.” 

“My legs are getting tired.” Sokka frowns and folds his arms across his chest. “Like, I’m starting to get that annoying tingly feeling.” 

“We can pull over.” Azula shrugs. “There’s a rest area over there.”  She points to a small recreation area with only a single and dim lamppost. Zuko rolls the car to a stop but doesn’t unlock the door. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of eerie.” 

Azula unlocks the car door and wanders out. The place looks ancient; there is a single log building that she assumes is a bathroom. This has two smaller and even dimmer lights above each door. Creeping ivy has taken to climbing over the logs and spilling out from between them. The sidewalk leading up to is cracked with age; grasses and dandelions poke up from between the cracks. 

The sound of crickets grows in volume as Azula makes her way over to one of six wooden picnic benches. Out in the open, she can hear the croak of tree frogs and the buzz of other insects. The wood of the bench is damp when she sits upon it. She notices tufts of moss creeping up and down it. There is more graffiti than moss though; mostly just names with years and initials in hearts. Azula traces her finger over a particularly deep etching as she watches a moth ram itself into the streetlight. “Are you guys coming?” She asks. 

Katara and Sokka exchange a look before Sokka emerges from the car. Azula looks to the left at the sound of a creak. The wind has taken to gently tossing a swing back and forth. The thing looks as ancient as the picnic table. The slide next to it is made of rusting metal. Azula wanders over to it and wraps her fingers around the chain of the rocking swing. 

“Can you guys just get back in the car?” Zuko asks. He seems to shudder after his request.

Azula rolls her eyes. She supposes that she can go back to the car, but while she is out and about she photographs the park. She crouches down to tuck her camera back into its case. Something heavy and oppressive befalls her and she halts her fumbling to look at the treeline. It is not like it usually is, the crickets still chirp and the frogs still croak. The fireflies still glimmer on and off as if they aren’t sensing the same energy that she does. She scans the treeline more intensely and a chill vibrates through her soul. She squits and slowly rises to her feet. 

She can’t tell if the creature is perched in a tree or if its head simply reaches that high. Whatever it is, it stands pillar still and observes her with a ruby gaze. She as as transfixed as she is disquieted. 

She knows that she should go back to the car, but she finds herself curiously drawn to this being. She puts less thought into it than she should--really she puts no thought at all into edging closer to the treeline.  

“Azula!” Zuko shouts. His voice cuts through the mesmerized haze in her mind and she jolts. In a flicker, a sense of ominousness replaces the enchantment. She backs away with just as much slowness. If it is one of the weres, then she is in rather deep and running will only draw more attention. But she has never known the weres to be so compelling. 

The creature leaps off of the trees and fans out wings so black that she can’t tell if they are feathered, furred, or leathery. She can tell that they are huge, perhaps ten feet or so. It makes no sound as it descends and Azula’s stomach turns. 

Zuko slams on the horn, a long and loud bleat but the creature is undeterred. It is as focused on her as she had been on it. 

She whips her head around to flash a longing stare at the car, they are all yelling for her. Things that she can’t quite catch under the sound of flapping wings. The being eclipses her view of the car entirely. 

It can take her so easily. 

It towers far above her. She fully acknowledges that, that isn’t saying much. But it would tower of Zhao as well and the man has a good six feet and then some on him. 

And yet, Azula isn’t afraid. 

She doesn’t feel particularly pleasant either. 

She realizes that she doesn’t feel anything at all, save for faintly curious. She wonders if the creature is curious as well. But no. She can see in its deep rose-hued eyes that it knows. It has a wisdom older than perhaps the park itself. 

I want to show you something . Its voice slides into her head. She doesn’t block it out, though instincts tell her to throw up as many mental walls as she can. I will show you something. There is a very brief flash of images. This time she does erect her walls.

It speaks again, this time its communication is external. “No harm.” It is a raspy whisper, a stark contrast to the deep and smooth voice in her had. 

What it instills within her this time is neither a voice nor an image but a feeling of soothing. Something warm. Something akin to brushing her cheek against something fuzzy and gentle. Something like when her mother used to wrap she and Zuko into a blanket and coo them to sleep.

She will give it a chance. 

It wraps its wings around her. 

Distantly she hears a shout and a few pops. 

Very close she hears a shriek of pain. It breaks her stupor once more. She sees the gun poised and ready. “Zhao, no!” She hollers. She hears another pop. This time the creature flees, but not without her. Zuko shouts for her but she doesn’t resist. 

It has knowledge and she has a curiosity.  

Azula isn’t sure how far it takes her. She watches pines roll by green ash and river birch roll by, sees the mist churning and swirling like a grey-washed river. The night air is still pleasantly warm on her cheeks.  The entity comes to a clearing, it sets her down onto the forest floor and perches itself in the branches. 

Now the other forest creatures know.

Now it is dead silent. 

Silent except for that deep, silky voice. Let me show you .

Azula nods, she wants to see. “Trust.” It says out loud. It reaches a clawed hand out and brushes it tentatively over her hair. A sense of deeper soothing ripples over her. Trust , it repeats. And her head seems to split. A deep pounding cracks her skull and she falls to the floor. 

She is in her bedroom--her childhood bedroom--staring at the tinkling mobile. A tiny topez dragon, a citrine phoenix, and a ruby monkey. At the center is a little dream catcher. It sways and bobs in a breeze that isn’t natural. From somewhere she can hear a music box. It should be comforting. It has the atmosphere of something cozy and yet the shadows furl and unfurl in ways that make her feel queasy. 

She notices that she is bleeding, but she can’t tell from where.

Maybe it isn’t actually hers. Maybe she just has blood on her. 

She tries to sit up but her body remains paralyzed as though a weight is being pressed upon her. She can’t scream. Neither can she blink. The shadow unravels further before thickening into something more solid. 

Something more palpable and putrid. 

It is slick and oily and it plops onto the floor with a wet slosh. 

Azula’s shout is locked within her throat. Her world goes black but she still has her eyes wide open. When the blackness clears she can see Zuko, his figure ringed by a halo of silver-blue moonlight. 

But he is wrong, all wrong. His eyes are a such a shade of black, to the likes that she has never seen. He opens his mouth in a silent scream and that oily sludge comes pouring out. Out and out until it pools around the bed. Until it rises to the height of the mattress. 

Zuko’s face flickers between his own and another. Something masklike; smooth and silver but oddly akin to a liquid. It shifts and simmers. Every now and again an eye or a mouth or a nose emerges on the surface. It is a different one with each flicker. 

Finally Azula can cry out. But no one can help her.

The slime has reached her feet.

She finds herself laying on the forest floor, a cold sweat glistens on her face. She is shaking. A figure still looms over her; tall, muscular, winged, and imposing. “A warning.” It speaks. She can’t bring herself to move. 

She opens her mouth to speak. 

Go home. The voice eases into her mind. But she doesn’t know where home is anymore. For the longest time home has been the RV that she and Zuko have parked in a rented lot back in their home city. The one they’d grown up in has long been foreclosed. 

Maybe it hears her thoughts. No, it definitely does. Or perhaps it just knows. Knows in the same way that it foresaw the collapse of the Silver Bridge. It projects another image into her mind. She is sitting in a living room--she knows, somehow, that it is in Scottland, that it is Zhao’s home--watching TV. Zuko is next to her snoring. The atmosphere is inviting. The Scottsman enters the room and declares that they will be going to the loch, that Nessie would like to see her again. Azula swallows, the idea of seeing Nessie again isn’t so bad. You need to go home . It says again. 

And once more her head seems to fracture. She lays in that dark room again. This time it is in a state of disarray and the sludge gathers in inky splotches around the room. She only sees Zuko’s pitch black gaze and his mouth agape in that grotesque silent scream. The last droplets of ooze dribble down his chin.

A warning … the voice echos in her mind.