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🌕 FULL MOON 🌕
release
Generations upon generations ago, Tui gave the Southern Water Tribe a sacred gift.
The ice was thick and empty, the sea treacherous and barren, the snow deadly and merciless. The Tribe was starving, abandoned to the cold, with only each other and the meager fires that the stinging wind would destroy at any given moment. Fishers returned with empty nets; hunters returned with unbloodied spears; foragers returned hungrier than they had left. That is, of course, if they returned at all.
Tui and La had been distracted by the tumultuous seas, their energy spent keeping the land from sinking into the depths. But Tui saw her children by the light of the full moon, their bodies too thin, their faces too sallow, their eyes too glazed, and she sent a blessing to them in the form of a wolf.
Though the wolf was a fearsome creature, great and monstrous and with sharp teeth the size of an arm, the Tribe did not tremble. They approached the wolf, and they learned.
The wolf taught them his power, the powers that Tui had gifted them — the power of survival. He taught them to hunt using heightened senses; he taught them to run heavy-pawed along the snow; he taught them to use their coats for warmth against the chill; he taught them to survive as more than human: instead, as Tui-touched wolves.
As time went on, the Tui-touched began to have children of their own, who then had their own, and so on, and the gift began to fade. Survival was not as bleak as it had been, and Tui’s blessing was no longer as needed. But Tui-touched children were still born to the Southern Water Tribe; the gift was present, and sacred, and rare.
Chief Hakoda was Tui-touched, as was his second, Bato. Hakoda's late partner Kya had not been, nor their second child. But their first was born under the dark new moon with the dancing lights bright in the sky, and Tui’s gift ran through him as strongly as if he had been born under her full glory.
As a young child, Katara had been hurt by Tui’s decision to leave her without her gift; her Tui-touched father, her uncle, and her brother were special, well-respected, even at Sokka’s young age. But she discovered that Tui’s partner, La, had given her an even more sacred gift — allowing Katara to bend with La, to work with Tui, to revive what had been stripped from their culture.
Sokka bore Tui’s gift with joy as a child, and after his father and uncle’s departure to aide in war efforts, with serious pride. He was the oldest son, and one of the oldest children left in the South, unable to fight a war that he was seen as too young for. But with his heightened senses and ingrained sense of determination, he ensured their survival in their leaders’ absence.
He spent full moons alone in his second skin, though it felt as natural as his first. He felt powerful, natural, free in a way that he was not otherwise. Purposeful in a way that, compared to Katara, he lacked. Tui’s touch was a blessing, but the pain that came with it could be seen as the cost. Though transformations were possible throughout the moon cycle, they were taxing and drew energy from a core that was hard to replenish. Full moons, however, were inevitable — full moons caused bones to crack, skin to break, teeth to lengthen, pain to shoot through the body and only adrenaline keeping them alive.
Aang hated transformations. He had a weak stomach and couldn’t stand to see Sokka change, and could stand even less the nauseating sounds that seemed to echo no matter how crowded a space. Katara tended to wander between Aang’s side and Sokka’s, knowing that Sokka could stand to be by himself, and even enjoyed it to a certain extent. Toph was unbothered by the sight, as she was by all sights, and was pleasantly grossed out by the crunch of Sokka’s reforming bones, and loved the way his fur felt when he begrudgingly allowed her to pet him, only growling and trotting off indignantly when she began to talk to him like a housepet.
It was after Toph had cooed at him that he was just like her mother’s “prissy little ferret-cat” and Sokka had huffed and bounded away from her that he caught the scent. It was peculiar and slightly putrid and called to him in a way that nothing ever had.
“Sokka?” Toph asked, hearing his intent sniffs.
The call was too much to bear and Sokka leapt off, bounding towards it, trying to trace it back to the source. He had sensed it too late into the night, however, and felt his bones ache with the impending shift before he had found it. With a frustrated growl, he walked back towards camp, ignoring the tugging at his brain that was his wolf refusing to back away. But he knew that Katara would kill him if he got lost, and Toph would kill him if they made her trudge through the forest to find him, so he slowly transformed, painful but manageable, as he made his way to their temporary camp.
They planned on moving the next day. Their camp was in a great location — an empty cave that kept them sheltered, a river for Aang and Katara to practice waterbending, bountiful forests to hunt and forage, and the sea nearby where they could watch for danger. It wasn’t good to stay in one spot for long, though. They had learned that the hard way. No matter how comfortable a camp was, it was worth abandoning for their safety.
But the tug from the night before continued. The scent wasn’t as strong, now — though his senses were lessened after the full moon, they still latched onto it, and he couldn’t help but interpret it as a distress signal. He dropped his bag in shock when he realized. It was another wolf.
“Guys?” he said, and Katara was already giving him the look she always did when knew she knew he was going to say something she hated. “Can we make a detour?”
The sea was close enough that they forwent flying and left Appa to lemur-sit Momo and trudged through the forest to the shore by foot, following Sokka’s lead. Sokka himself was led by his nose and the pull he kept feeling; it got stronger and stronger the closer he got to its source. Katara had to grab his wrist at one point to keep him from running, but she let him go as they drew closer. His heart rate picked up, his wolf stirring in harried anticipation as he approached a half-wrecked ship along the shore.
He slowed as he got closer, and stopped when he saw. It was a distress signal. It was a wolf. And it was a wolf that was new, confused, scared, and alone.
“No,” Katara said as soon as she saw. “Sokka, no.”
Sokka stared, frozen in the sand. “I can’t leave him.”
“Yes , you can,” she hissed, grabbing his arm. “Can we leave before he wakes up, please?”
“I can’t leave him!” Sokka said, moving his arm out of her grasp. “He’ll die if—”
“Good,” she glared at him. “One less problem to deal with, right?”
In any other situation, on any other day, Sokka might have agreed. But this was a newly-bitten wolf, as evidenced by the still-bleeding wound on his side, knocked out by the exhaustion of the first transformation, and, truly, close to death. “He’s one of us.”
Katara made an indignant, disbelieving noise. “He’s one of you. Don’t you dare say that about me.”
Sokka ignored her and knelt in the sand, lifting Zuko carefully over his shoulder and trying to not jostle his bite any more than he had to.
“Come on. Let’s get back to camp.”
🌖 WANING GIBBOUS 🌖
gratitude
Before the nations had begun to isolate, some Southern Water Tribe members had left the Pole, and there were then Tui-touched children in the proper North, the rocky Earth, the peaceful Air, the bright Fire. Though it was not typical, some of these children — away from their true origin — began to turn away from the gift, resenting its burden, resenting Tui herself, fighting nature and seeking retribution through the suffering of others. It had happened in the South before, Tui-touched through another, forced to suffer through a transformation that they had not been born able to manage, at first growing near to death at the moons rather than full of strength — but those bitten had been supported by the tribe.
Sokka wasn’t sure what would happen to those who were bitten but had no one to care for them. Even if non-wolves weren’t knowledgeable about what newly transformed wolves needed, they were at least there to provide some amount of comfort and warmth. Sokka had found their enemy unconscious on the sand, close to death, and alone.
The human part of Sokka — the pursued, in-danger, trying-to-save-the-world part of Sokka — wanted to leave him there. Did he not deserve to suffer for putting them through everything? For helping the Fire Lord try to destroy everything good? For trying to kill Aang? But the wolf part of Sokka — the protective, pack-oriented, looking-out-for-his-own part of Sokka — wanted to make sure he lived. Wanted to make sure he was safe. Wanted to make sure he survived the ruthless aftermath of the first full moon that those born without Tui’s touch may not make it through.
He laid Zuko out in the cave they had taken shelter in for the past few days, trying to sate his human self by making sure he was at least a little uncomfortable. Serves him right.
🌗 THIRD QUARTER 🌗
forgiveness
Zuko wakes up tucked against a rock wall, laying on a rock floor, with a rock ceiling above him. What’s more concerning is the fact that he wakes up with burning pain in his side and, when he hurriedly lifts his tunic, sees that he has been inexpertly bandaged, blood evident beneath the cloth. It takes him a moment of panic to realize that his captors haven’t bound him and it’s impossible for him to stay down, no matter how much it hurts to stand. He makes his way towards the cave entrance, clutching his side, and makes it an embarrassingly few stumbling steps before falling to the ground with a groan.
His captor rushes in, and Zuko pales. With the exception of the man who attacked him, this was the second-worst option — he saw, through bleary eyes, Sokka kneel beside him, pressing a cold hand to his forehead, saying something that Zuko couldn’t understand, the sounds faded and muffled as he sank into an undeniable panic.
Sokka was giving off a scent (A scent? Zuko thought. Since when could I smell him?) that made Zuko scramble back, heart racing and eyes going wide, staring at him like he would attack at any given moment. Sokka stared back but did not pursue him, instead sitting back on his heels and putting his hands on his knees, like he was trying to convince Zuko he wasn’t a threat. Zuko knew better. Zuko knew better. He knew he had done enough to Sokka and the rest of the Avatar’s friends to warrant an attack, and he refused to be lulled into a false sense of security, especially by someone who threw off the most terrifying scent Zuko had ever encountered.
If he had sensed his attacker like he was sensing Sokka, maybe he wouldn’t be here in the first place. Sokka was one of them. He knew it. He had always known it. Being a fucking wolf was a horrid source of pride for him, like it wasn’t a terrifying curse from a cruel moon. Or, he supposed, with a dreadful realization, a terrifying curse from someone who already bore it. The memory rushed back to him all at once as he stared into Sokka’s sharp eyes.
A man from the Fire Nation found him, somehow, at the tiny shelter he had made for himself for the night, cooking his pathetic fishing bounty over the fire. The man had snarled at him, his approach only held back by Zuko’s hastily-drawn dao, telling him that he had lost all three of his sons in a division that was cruelly sacrificed for the war, the young, inexperienced soldiers sent to the front lines to be slaughtered just for a diversion.
Zuko knew which division he was talking about. He knew it well.
The man returned that night after the full moon rose, in a much different form than he had had that evening — Zuko could only sprint to his boat to try to escape death, but he hadn’t been quick enough, and teeth had sank into his side before he was able to tear away, pushing himself into the water where the wolf refused to follow, the vindictive howls of the wolf echoing across the water as Zuko’s own screams began. The pain rivaled his burn from the beginning, and quickly surpassed as his body tore, broke, stretched, reformed into a horrible creature, in pain and scared and terribly alone.
The division he had tried to save had now destroyed him twice, and Zuko wasn’t sure he would survive this time.
Perhaps a third time, now. He scrambled back as far as he could, his back hitting the sharp wall of the cave harshly as he tried frantically to get away from Sokka, who had moved a few inches closer, hands held in calming surrender, trying to trick Zuko into a sense of safety just to rip him limb from limb without the aid of the moon. His heart thumped against his chest faster than it ever had, his mind raced with thoughts of flight, flight, flight, his aching body shook without mercy.
It did not stop as Sokka gave up and left him to himself, and Zuko could only stare at the cave entrance as he tried to stay alive. Maybe he tried to die. He wasn’t sure which he’d prefer.
🌘 WANING CRESCENT 🌘
surrender
“You’re not a prisoner,” Sokka says a few weeks later, setting a bowl of congee on a nearby rock before going to sit against the opposite wall of the cave. He had been giving Zuko a generous amount of space. Zuko smelled — and looked — of palpable fear every time Sokka got close, even though he had made sure to make his movements deliberate and careful and as non-threatening as possible. Any other time, Sokka might have preened at being so intimidating, but the sharp distress emanating from Zuko was anything but pleasing.
Zuko gave him an incredulous glance as he took a bite.
“You’re not,” Sokka insisted. “You can leave, but.” He rubbed his neck and looked away, feeling odd but sure. “But I hope you don’t.” He could feel Zuko still from where he sat. “I know what you are. I know what you’re going through, you know? At least a little bit. It’s different for me, but — I know how hard it can be and how much it hurts and I can get you through it. I mean, I can help.”
Sokka looked up at Zuko and met his golden eyes, somehow brighter than they had been the month before. Zuko was staring, mouth set oddly, full spoon held midair as he peered at him with suspicion with a touch of curiosity.
“Call it a truce if you want.” Sokka shrugged, trying for a casual approach. “As much as you suck, you’re my kind. I can’t sit by and watch you suffer if I know I can help. So—you can leave. But. Don’t.”
Zuko stared at him for another moment before turning back to his bowl and ignoring him. Sokka watched for a moment before going out to join his friends for his own dinner, sitting around the campfire and getting more lost in his thoughts than usual. The next day was the same — deliver Zuko’s food, keep him company for a few minutes, go eat his own. It was the same the day after that, as well — but Sokka glanced at the cave the next day as he waited for Katara to finish the stew and saw Zuko standing at the entrance, holding his side.
Sokka gave him a wave that was not returned, but Zuko didn’t flinch as Sokka sat closer than usual when he came to deliver. They both sat closer to the opening the next day. The day after, Sokka saw him from his place around the fire and patted the log beside him, and Zuko, much to his surprise (and the shock of everyone else) joined them, silent and stoic, but there.
Sokka couldn’t help but notice how warm he was, even with wide inches between them. He couldn’t help but notice how the smoke seemed to smell stronger. He couldn’t help but think that maybe it had something to do with how Zuko smelled without fear cutting through him.
🌑 NEW MOON 🌑
beginning
Zuko barely spoke to Sokka — on principle as well as slowly-fading distrust. The moon rose above them, but he couldn’t see it, and, more strikingly, he couldn’t feel it. Even after just a short two weeks of being this way, it sent a strange wave of discontent through him, a feeling of being out of place, unnatural, and abandoned. Sokka had already brought him dinner, but Zuko looked up at the familiar sound of Sokka’s arrival and saw him with a blanket pulled around his shoulders, the same as Zuko had done.
“Why do I feel like this?” Zuko asked after Sokka settled in his usual place across from him. It almost hurt to speak, his voice scratched at his throat.
Sokka gave him an odd smile. “New moons suck. You feel, like—empty, right?”
Zuko nodded and watched Sokka stretch out.
“I don’t know why for sure. But—I mean, new moons are basically the opposite of what we are, you know? What drives us. It’s weird. I can’t—sense stuff the way I usually can. Like, I can’t smell or hear or even see as well as normal and it feels—rough. Unsafe. Like, I can’t protect anybody right now, not like I can any other day,” he paused, frowning. "Well, I can protect everyone fine. Just not with wolfy-senses."
“Oh,” Zuko said, quiet and a little disappointed. He hated when there wasn’t a fix.
“And you can’t transform like normal, either. You haven’t done that yet, though. We can usually shift some whenever, even though it kind of hurts when it’s not close to the full moon. But knowing you can’t even if you don’t usually, it’s uncomfortable.”
Zuko nodded after a moment with a soft sigh. “Oh.”
Sokka watched him with an odd expression for a moment, and Zuko shifted under his gaze. “In the South Pole,” he began, sounding cautious, like he was deciding something, “we always stay together on new moons. Tui-touched and not. There used to be a lot of wolves, you know, but now—it was me and my dad and uncle. But we still—everyone, like, stayed around us.” He smiled a little, remembering. “We bundled up around the fire and we ate good food and told legends and stories and—there’s strength in numbers. And there’s comfort in family.”
Zuko pulled his blanket tighter, curling into himself, trying to find comfort in the only family he had left. He had left Iroh and gotten himself into this. He was alone again. “Was anyone bitten there?”
Sokka shook his head and stretched his legs out. If Zuko did the same, they would touch. “Nah. All three of us were born. There were—a few. Earlier on. They’re gone now.” Zuko knew why and he looked away. “There were a couple when I was younger, and I remember—one was bitten after I was born, and I remember that it was hard for her to adjust. She almost didn’t survive. She spent the first moon alone, after being bitten by someone who had gone—uh. Feral, I guess. He lived far off and she had been hunting. Uh. She almost died. It was really bad. But she lived and she adjusted and she was just as much a part of the pack as the rest of us.”
Zuko was quiet for a long moment. “That sounds nice.”
Sokka nodded and didn’t meet his eyes, looking out the opening at the dark sky. He slept there that night, and Zuko couldn’t help but be grateful for his company.
🌒 WAXING CRESCENT 🌒
intention
“You smell good,” Zuko blurted as soon as his senses started to return to normal — to his new normal, at least. He had wandered out of the cave to bathe in the stream, joining Sokka at his invitation.
Sokka blinked at him. “I do?”
Zuko nodded sharply, dunking under the water to get away from his prickling blush.
Sokka was still looking at him when Zuko emerged and wiped the water from his eyes. There was an amused quirk to his bowed lips that made Zuko swallow hard. “What do I smell like?”
“Uh,” Zuko ducked his head and grabbed the soap, scrubbing his hair for something to do that would keep him from meeting Sokka’s eyes. “Like—woods.” And moss, and the morning, and the air before it rains, he thought.
Sokka laughed, and Zuko had to glance up to see the toothy smile that came from it. “I do? You know, I never saw trees til I left the South Pole. So—ha. Weird.”
“Oh. Uh—it’s—nice.”
“I like that, though. I like woods.” Zuko nodded and Sokka smiled a little, watching him. “You smell good, too. Like smoke but—not in a scary way. It’s nice.”
Zuko went red and ducked under the water again, ostensibly to rinse his hair but really to escape. Sokka laughed loud and flopped back, enjoying the fresh, cool feeling and the sunny, warm air.
🌓 FIRST QUARTER 🌓
decisions
Katara, predictably, remained resentful and wary throughout Zuko’s stay — Sokka’s ‘truce’ or no, Zuko was still the enemy, was still the person who pursued them with the intent to harm, or at least capture, was still not someone Katara could trust. She had (reluctantly) healed his bite as much as she could, though it scarred deeply and obviously, and would never fully disappear.
She refused to talk to him, although she would allow Sokka to serve him the food that she had made. She refused to look at him, other than to glare at him with heavy suspicion and sharp distaste. She refused to be near him when she didn’t have to, allowing him in her presence only during meals.
However, she did run to him, along with Aang and Toph and Sokka who practically sprinted, when they heard his horrified shriek from the nearby stream, and knelt at his side when they found him crouched half-submerged in the water, holding his hand to his chest and looking between them all with panic. Katara saw the source instantly, and burst out in peals of laughter.
“I haven’t seen Sokka do that since he was a child,” she cackled, standing back up and grinning at the others. “He did the claw thing.”
Sokka sank to his knees in the place she abandoned, reaching for Zuko’s hand and feeling moderately touched when he didn’t jerk away. He inspected Zuko’s half-transformed hand carefully, making sure there were no bones injured beyond their initial cracks and reforms. He brushed his knuckles over the sharp points of Zuko’s nails, just to feel them. “Fuck. It’s okay, man, chill out. This happens sometimes.”
Zuko swallows, eyes still wide and frightened. “It just happens? You just fucking—grow claws, what the fuck, Sokka—”
Sokka grinned and didn’t let go of his hand, massaging his palm comfortingly. “Yup. You’ll get better at controlling it, though, don’t worry. I’m surprised you’ve done as well as you have.”
The little whimper that escaped Zuko’s mouth made both of them blush. “It hurts.”
“Yeah.” Sokka shrugged. “It does. It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s closer to the full moon, and it won’t hurt for long, okay?”
Zuko looked at his hand and at Sokka’s holding it gently, and realized with sudden soft clarity that it had stopped aching. “Does it hurt when it goes back?”
“Not as much. By a lot.” He let go of his hand, and both of them missed the warmth immediately. Sokka squeezed Zuko’s knee and stood, holding out his hand for Zuko to take, and Zuko allowed himself to be pulled up. He saw the question in Zuko’s eyes. “It’ll go back to human in an hour or so. I’ll transform mine, too, okay? We can eat berries from our claws in the meantime.”
🌔 WAXING GIBBOUS 🌔
refinement
“So,” Sokka said, plopping down unceremoniously by the fire, close enough for his leg to touch Zuko’s. “Was it for no reason or did you piss someone off?”
Zuko didn’t need to ask what he was talking about, and the still-scarring bite on his side ached at the thought. He gathered his voice for a moment before replying, “I pissed someone off.”
Sokka gave him a toothy grin. “Figured. Burned down their house? Steal their ostrich-horse? Insulted their mother?”
“Killed his sons.” Zuko’s voice was barely audible; his heart felt like it would thump out of his chest, his soul felt like it would part from his body at any second.
Sokka was silent beside him for long enough that Zuko thought he would leave, tell Zuko to go away, maybe, justly, leave him to die in retribution. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
Not long ago, that would have been a nonsensical statement. The thing that sounded the most like the Zuko-of-then would be outright murder, but the question in Sokka’s voice was one of disbelief. “I’m the crown prince of the Fire Nation. Was. I don’t know. It’s in my nature”
“Was it an accident?”
“No,” Zuko said, almost numb. “I didn’t do it, but their blood is on my hands.”
“Tell me,” Sokka said after a moment.
Zuko knew that it was a demand. It was one that was incredibly difficult for him to meet, but one that was unavoidable, especially if he wanted to stay. Especially if he wanted to keep feeling Sokka’s warmth beside him. Especially if he wanted to be understood. He stared at the crackling fire for a long moment, until he felt Sokka shift beside him. The fear of abandonment struck him into speech. “My father—the war council wanted to sacrifice a division of soldiers, young ones, barely old enough to be soldiers in the first place. They wanted to put them on the front lines, let the Earth Kingdom attack them as a diversion while the Fire Nation attacked from another direction. His three sons were part of that division. They were all killed.”
Zuko’s eyes were on the fire, but he could feel Sokka’s unflinching gaze. “I’d be mad too, I guess,” he said quietly, still not moving from Zuko’s side. “I wouldn’t bite you, though. That’s—that’s rough.”
“Can I tell you something?” Zuko asked after a long moment, pulling his knees up to his chest to hug them tightly. At Sokka’s hum, he continued. “I went to that war meeting. Uncle Iroh told me not to speak but—I did. I argued. I said it wasn’t right because I thought it wasn’t. So now—it’s scarred me twice.”
“Twice?” Sokka asked. Zuko had a feeling that he knew.
“I was bitten and I was burned.” Zuko offered a vague gesture towards his face. “I shouldn’t have spoken. I couldn’t stop myself. I still—I still don’t think it was right, even after all this.”
Whatever Zuko was expecting, it certainly wasn’t Sokka’s warm weight pressing against his side, or his strong arms wrapping around his shoulders, or his own head to be tucked under Sokka’s chin. He froze under the touch, trying his best to process what was happening, but sank into him after an embarrassingly short hesitation.
He tried to pull away reluctantly after a few long moments, finding himself endlessly grateful when Sokka tucked him closer, stubbornly. “Not done,” Sokka grumbled. Zuko nodded and leaned into him, nosing his neck without meaning to, soaking in his scent.
🌕 FULL MOON 🌕
release
It was the night before the full moon when Azula found them. Zuko wasn’t sure if she had been searching for him or the Avatar or both, but all that mattered was that she was there, she was talking to him, she was staring at him with prideful expectation.
But Sokka was there, too, his steadfast and stubborn companion over the past month. There was no expectation behind Sokka’s eyes; only wary hope.
Zuko looked between Sokka and Azula and made his choice.