Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Routine came back into her life far too easily for Katara’s liking.

It wasn’t normal by any stretch. The healing huts were full, not just with the usual sickness and injury mixed in with wounds from the battle, but also with a few warriors whose families hadn’t been able to claim their remains yet. Although Katara’s bending lessons went back to the usual routine of a few hours every morning too, most of their time was occupied with repairing the damage that the fleet had done to the city. And in the spaces around all of that, there were funerals and families in mourning, dozens of clear signs that things had changed.

But there was a schedule to everything, a pattern that made it all seem too mundane to her. The North Pole had just experienced its first taste of the war that the rest of the world had been caught up in for the past century. The fact that they could all just keep to their shifts in the waterbending arenas and healing huts while they tried to put the city back together—the fact that they all apparently expected Katara to do the same—was almost maddening. Every day, she had to wake up after getting very little sleep, head to the walls to help with repairs all morning, then to the healing huts for the afternoon. Every day, she had to watch the Northern Tribe act like the battle had been a simple matter, a fight between an undeniable good and an undeniable evil. Like every loss on the part of the Water Tribe was a tragedy of equal magnitude while every single fallen firebender was a victory.

Katara didn’t think that she was a good enough actor to play along with that. Though she could be kind to his family, she couldn’t pretend to mourn over Hahn. He probably would have been safe if he’d just stayed frozen to the wall, but instead he’d screamed for the first waterbender he saw to let him down, then sprinted into the battle, heedless of any risks. And although she didn’t recognize any of the firebenders before their bodies were moved out of the city, she couldn’t pretend to celebrate their deaths.

The best she could really manage was to keep working, to keep training as hard as she could, day after day. If she kept herself busy, she wouldn’t have as much time to pretend. And if she worked hard enough in training, maybe she could master waterbending faster. The sooner she could finish, the sooner they could all leave the North Pole.

Still, even with all the training, all the work in the healing huts, she found herself with more spare time than she had anticipated. And probably unsurprisingly, the empty hours gave her far too many opportunities to think about the hollow, lonely ache in the middle of her chest.

It was bad enough that she had to get up every morning and push through her days like rebuilding the North Pole was the only thing that mattered. It was worse knowing that Zuko was out there somewhere, adrift on a raft with no real promise of finding safety when he reached solid ground again. And it was even worse than that to think about the fact that most of the Northern Tribe would probably celebrate if he didn’t make it.

Most of them. Thankfully, not all.

Kriisax poked at Frog Face’s downy wing, and he squawked, then turned to clamp his beak onto her sleeve, gripping hard enough that his little feet lifted off of the ground when she moved her arm. “So this friend of yours helped fight off the Fire Nation fleet. And he also had a pet toadowl for some reason? He sounds weird.”

“Frog Face wasn’t exactly his pet,” Katara replied. She remembered how much the little bird had irritated Zuko. Still, when she and the boys had gone back out to the ridge to clean up Zuko’s camp, stashing all of his abandoned supplies into Appa’s saddle, Katara hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d scooped Frog Face up from the ground, and she’d been looking after him ever since.

“What’s the difference? He was feeding a toadowl. That sounds like a pet to me.”

A shrug. “He wasn’t happy about it. From what he told me, Frog Face just wouldn’t stop following him around.”

“Well, that is how toadowls work. They have these big colonies out in the wild, and if the colony rejects some of the little ones, they’ll follow anyone they can find.” Kriisax carefully detached the hooked beak from her sleeve. “It seems like we get one or two moving in with some old lady around the city each year. They’re pretty good at catching pests, though.” She tried to balance Frog Face on her hand, but he didn’t grip onto her mitten fast enough and started to topple.

Katara caught Frog Face in midair, and he gave her a displeased squawk before fluffing himself up to several times his normal size and wobbling back onto his feet. With a small sigh, she let him hop back onto her shoulder.

“Of all the rotten luck,” Kriisax said. “I can’t believe that Master Yugoda and Imiq got to meet this guy, and I only get to see his weird little pet.”

There was a deep, wrenching feeling in the pit of her stomach, and Katara had to look away, stroking Frog Face’s soft belly with a fingertip. “Believe me, if I could have had my way, you would have met him days ago. But—apparently Chief Arnook still hasn’t changed his mind. As far as he’s concerned, everyone from the Fire Nation is still the enemy.”

In a way, she supposed, it was better that Arnook hadn’t softened his stance after the battle. Letting Zuko go had hurt enough as it was. If it all turned out to be pointless—if Pakku had been wrong, and it could have been safe to keep him here—then the knowledge that Zuko was sailing away from the city would have been unbearable. As it was, the emptiness never really left her, but at least she knew that she’d done the right thing.

Not that she would ever admit as much to Pakku. As far as she was concerned, this was all still Pakku’s fault. If he had just agreed to try, then maybe Zuko could still be here. Maybe Katara’s evenings could still be filled with her usual sparring matches and quiet, easy conversation outside the city rather than somewhat dull waterbending drills with either Aang or Kriisax, and gossip that did almost nothing to distract her from the ache in her core.

“Anyone who names their pet Frog Face is probably a tiny bit evil, deep down.”

Katara glared at Kriisax.

“I’m teasing. I know Yue liked him, so he couldn’t have been all bad.”

“He’s not bad.” With a sigh, Katara lowered her hand, and Frog Face pecked at her hair a few times. “I miss him a lot.”

“Seems like it.” Kriisax reached across and gave Frog Face another small pat. “He’s going to the Earth Kingdom, isn’t he?”

Katara nodded.

“Well, then I guess it won’t be too long before you see him again. I think we all know that you’re trying to get through your waterbending lessons as quickly as possible. I’m sure you’ll run into him when you go off to the Earth Kingdom in a few weeks.”

Another small shrug. “I hope so. But the Earth Kingdom is a lot bigger than you think. It’s going to be pretty hard to find anyone when we go back there.”

That wouldn’t stop her from trying, of course. She’d promised to find Zuko again, and she had every intention of keeping that promise as soon as possible. The longer it took for her to start looking, the more difficult it would be.

“I hope it only takes me a few weeks,” she added after a brief pause. “But—you know Master Pakku. I’m not sure how willing he’s going to be to let me actually finish my lessons.”

“I doubt the other masters would let him stall you for too long.” Kriisax leaned back, propping herself against her hands. “When you do leave, what are you going to do with the little feather fluff? I don’t think toadowls do very well outside of the North Pole.”

“That—I haven’t really decided yet.” Katara turned her head just far enough to the side to see Frog Face in her periphery, sitting contentedly on her shoulder. “I guess it might be a good thing that I still have at least a few weeks before I can leave.”

Zuko did everything he could to keep from thinking about her. About how different things might be if he hadn’t been forced to leave.

Unfortunately, drifting across the ocean aboard a small, rickety raft with no land in sight didn’t give him much else to think about. There were only so many hours of the day that he could spend staring at the southern horizon, only so many hours of the night he could watch the stars for a sign that they were still headed in the right direction. And if he couldn’t find some other way to occupy himself, he could either lose himself in the same painful spiral of thoughts again or give in and talk to Uncle.

He tried to avoid the latter option as much as possible. As much as it hurt to dwell on the past, on the inescapable hollowness that sat somewhere in his middle, talking to Uncle wasn’t much better. Uncle always had questions. Uncle always wanted to know a little bit more about his time at the North Pole and what things had been like between Zuko and all the others. About why exactly leaving was so difficult when Zuko hadn’t carried any connections, any real feelings toward the place or the people into the city with him. Even if he wanted to talk about all of it, Zuko didn’t think that he would have been able to find the words.

Still, the raft was only so big, and Zuko couldn’t avoid talking to Uncle forever. So he let things out in small, halting bursts instead. He told Uncle how he’d lost most of his supplies on the way into the city, how the things he’d had left had frozen into a lump on his back. He told Uncle how Katara had dragged him out of the city and dropped him into a hole in the middle of the lake. How he’d lived in that bit for nearly a week before anyone trusted him enough to allow him some time back on the outside. He didn’t mention the sleeping bag or the tent that had transformed the pit into a safe, somewhat comfortable camp in a matter of days. He told Uncle about the expedition to find the fleet and steal a messenger hawk, but didn’t say anything about how much warm, easy conversation there had been, or how he and Katara had spent the rest of the night together to smuggle a letter out of the city.

All of those parts, the warm and happy bits, felt too fragile to share. Those were Zuko’s. Even if it made Uncle look perplexed and worried, he couldn’t share more than the bare, jagged edges of his weeks behind the walls. Everything else sat too close to his heart, and he was half convinced that he would shatter if anyone got that close ever again.

Even the beads that Katara had given him had to stay hidden, strung together on a bit of rough cord around his wrist. On their first night aboard the raft, Zuko had waited for Uncle to doze off before he so much as dared to go looking for a piece of string so that he could keep the beads safer. They were a tiny, fragile reminder of everything he’d left behind, and Zuko couldn’t tell whether he felt better or worse keeping them so close. He couldn’t risk losing them, though. Katara had given him the beads for a reason. Even if he never saw her again, he needed something to hold onto, something to reassure himself that he hadn’t imagined it. That he really had found a friend once.

They had been floating for more than a week—nine days, to be precise—when Zuko caught Uncle poring over a map for the first time. Though it was difficult to care about where they were going, the sight of the map was at least something different. Something to think about other than everything that lay behind him now.

“Uncle? Are you—do you actually know where we’re going?”

Uncle looked up, apparently surprised. Which was weird. All of this was weird. Back on the old ship, Zuko had usually been the one poring over the maps, and Uncle would only join in to help with the planning after a great deal of cajoling.

But everything had turned upside down for Zuko in a few months’ time. Maybe it was just fair that things had changed for Uncle too.

“I cannot say that my plans are exact at this instant,” Uncle said, spreading the map out on the raft in front of him. “A great deal depends on how precisely we can navigate while we remain at sea, but I do have a few possible destinations in mind.” He paused. “Would you like to have a look at the map, Nephew?” There was a slight, hopeful lilt toward the end of the question.

Zuko turned, staring into the steel blue waves, occasionally catching a flash of brilliant blue that reminded him of nothing so much as Katara’s eyes. He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know if it matters. It’s not like I know anyone out there.”

Uncle waited a moment or two before he spoke again. “The world can be a dangerous place. It would be remarkably careless of me to leave the safety of my only remaining family to chance.”

Zuko frowned. “You let me go to the North Pole alone. Wasn’t that leaving things up to chance?”

Another pause. “Perhaps it was, to a degree. In that instance, however, Admiral Zhao seemed to pose a far greater risk to your safety than a journey to the North Pole. And fortunately, for a time, that was true.”

“For a time?”

“Until your presence was discovered and the elders of the Water Tribe decided that all firebenders were to be eliminated, yes.” There was a soft crinkling sound as Uncle rolled the map back up. “We could not have stayed, Prince Zuko. I very much wish that we could have, but the danger was simply too great.”

Zuko glanced back over his shoulder. “More dangerous than floating across the ocean on a raft? And for what? No matter where we go, there are still going to be people who want to kill us.”

“It is not so grim as you think.”

“How?” Zuko demanded. His throat was dry, and his voice felt fragile. “We’re still firebenders. The whole world hates us. At least at the North Pole—”

“Prince Zuko.” Though Uncle’s voice had grown rough over the past few days as well, he spoke firmly. “We have discussed this before. Though your friends may have tried to help us, it would have put them at a significant risk to do so. There are others who have more resources and understand the dangers better. We must turn to them now.”

More people like Pakku, Zuko had to assume. Old and unpleasant and unforgiving—the sorts of people who Uncle had probably met decades ago playing Pai Sho in a teashop somewhere in the Earth Kingdom. The sorts who might get along with Uncle just fine, but who would probably grow to hate Zuko in a matter of minutes.

“If we can find them. Or get back to land in the first place.”

Uncle made a noncommittal sound. “I believe that we are over halfway there.”

Zuko pulled himself into a ball, chin resting on his knees, and refused to answer. Over halfway there didn’t mean much when they’d already been floating for nine whole days. Their supplies were already beginning to run low. Three or four more days at sea would probably be fine, but more than that—if they made it back to shore at all, they would have to hope with everything they had that Uncle’s friends would find them quickly.

He still didn’t like the idea of it very much. Relying on strangers, especially if they all turned out to be like Pakku, couldn’t possibly end well for him. Relying on anyone was risky. Even if it went well, even if it was somehow as good as things had been at the North Pole, Zuko wasn’t sure that he could deal with that again. Good things never lasted where he was involved. And losing more of the good in his life would probably be too much for him to bear.

Somehow, he’d have to find a way to survive on his own.

Logically, Katara knew that her progress through waterbending lessons was astounding. After a little more than a week of focusing on repairs, her lessons had finally gone back to normal, and within a few days of regular practice, she’d begun to hold her own in sparring matches with the older boys. Within another few days, she’d defeated each and every one of them at least once. And in the week after that, she clawed her way up from the lowest ranks of the class to somewhere above the average.

She was closer to mastery now than she could have guessed that she would be in so little time. She hadn’t expected it to take years or anything, but a few weeks was unusually fast. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t fast enough. Like she was wading through hip-deep slush on her way toward leaving the North Pole, all while Zuko drifted farther and farther out of her reach. And no amount of practice with Aang or Kriisax—or later, the friends from the healing huts who Kriisax brought with her to their evening practice—seemed to make much difference.

It was probably all in her head, Katara knew that. She knew that she was getting better every day. She could feel it in the increasing ease with which she took on her classmates in each sparring match, but outside of lessons, it didn’t feel like she was challenging herself the way that she used to. Maybe she wasn’t. Or maybe it was just the fact that time had always seemed to move faster when she was with Zuko than it did with anyone else.

But at long last, after she’d beaten all of her classmates several times over and reached the point where it became unusual for any of them to defeat her without significant difficulty, Pakku finally relented and pulled her aside at the end of a lesson. If she wanted to move on, he told her, she could demonstrate her skills to all the masters in a few days’ time. Then, if she did well enough to win her status as a master, she and her friends would be escorted to the Earth Kingdom to begin earthbending lessons.

Frankly, Katara was only interested in the first part of the offer. Becoming a master was the whole point of being here, but an escort back to the Earth Kingdom was worse than useless. She wanted to fly off with the boys and Appa as soon as humanly possible. She wanted the freedom to search the entirety of the northern sea if that was what it took to find Zuko and the general. If they had to travel with a Northern Tribe escort, even if it was Pakku himself, she wasn’t convinced that it would be entirely safe to pick them up along the way.

But she could worry about that part later, after she’d actually passed the test. In the meantime, she had other things to worry about.

“I think Frog Face is finally starting to listen to me,” Aang announced when Katara came home from her shift in the healing huts. “Here, watch this.” He held his hands out in front of the shelf where Frog Face was perched and clucked his tongue. “Come here. Good birdie, hop over to my hand.”

Frog Face scrunched his head all the way down into his neck and blinked both eyes separately, but didn’t actually move.

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Nice trick, Aang.”

“He did it before. Maybe he’s feeling shy right now. This worked just a couple of minutes ago.”

“Or maybe he was hungry a couple of minutes ago, and now he’s not.” Gently, Katara scooped the bird up from his perch and settled him in on her shoulder. “Thanks for trying, but I don’t think Frog Face wants to be trained.” She started for the door again. “By the way, could you tell Sokka that I’m going to be a little late tonight?”

Aang spun to watch her backing toward the street again. “Are you going to practice with Kriisax again? Because if you are, I can come along too.”

She frowned. Aang had tagged along to a few of her informal lessons with the other girls recently, and it hadn’t been bad. He didn’t distract the others much, and it seemed like his focus was a tiny fraction better than it used to be. If she’d been planning to teach the other girls tonight, she probably would have agreed to that.

Instead, she shook her head. “Not tonight. I actually need to go talk to someone else right now. Maybe tomorrow?”

Aang looked a bit dejected, but he didn’t exactly object, and Katara didn’t exactly feel the need to push the issue. With Frog Face busily pecking at the bits of snow that landed in her hair, she set back off across the city, toward the palace.

When she arrived, it was almost like Yue had been expecting her. Like word of the impending departure had made it to the palace before anyone else had any idea.

And sure enough, after Katara had explained herself, Yue just nodded. “I knew this had to be coming soon. I’ve been hearing quite a lot from the masters recently.”

Katara frowned. “They’ve been telling you about my lessons?” From his place in her lap, Frog Face let out a displeased croak when she stopped petting him for a moment too long.

“Not directly,” Yue answered. “Master Pakku and some of the others have been making plans to send an expedition to the South Pole for some time now. Considering the way their plans have been accelerating lately, I would be more surprised to hear that you still had weeks of training left to go.”

An expedition to the South Pole. So that must have been what Pakku meant about the escort that was meant to take them to the Earth Kingdom. Frowning, Katara resumed stroking Frog Face’s slightly crooked wing. “It would have been nice if they’d mentioned any of this to us.”

“You have been terribly busy since the fleet departed. It may have been difficult to find the time for it.” Yue looked off toward the side of the room. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been trying to find a bit of time to meet with you as well, and until today—”

“You have?” Katara's stomach sank a little. In her rush to get through all of her lessons, to continue teaching Kriisax and practicing with Aang as much as humanly possible, she’d almost forgotten things like visiting Yue. She’d become a bad friend. Or an absentminded one, at least. How had she managed to let that happen?

“It’s nothing terribly important,” Yue said hastily, like she had guessed what Katara was thinking. “And—frankly, I’ve been quite busy too. Sokka visits me every day, after all. If it had been anything really urgent, I would have found the time to come to you, or asked Sokka to pass the message on for me. As it is—” She reached for a small box on a nearby shelf. “There is something that I’ve been meaning to give you.”

“Oh?”

Yue nodded. “I noticed a while ago that you seem to have lost your beads.” She gestured toward her own temples, where she wore much larger medallions of blue ivory, then held the box out in Katara’s direction. “It isn’t much, but I thought I could at least offer a few replacements. A small personal token of gratitude, I suppose. Though I’m sure that my father and the masters will have something much more impressive to offer before you go.”

The beads. Though she certainly hadn’t forgotten about them, Katara had grown so used to her unadorned loopies over the past few weeks that it hadn’t really occurred to her to look for new ones. And when Yue opened the lid just a bit so that she could see the bits of pearl and ivory inside, Katara’s eyes began to burn, and she had to look away.

“Is something wrong, Katara? If you don’t want them, I apologize, and I’m more than happy to—”

Katara shook her head before Yue could finish, and blinked a few times to fight back the burning in her eyes. “No, I love them. Thank you.”

Yue didn’t answer, and yet there was a clear weight of skepticism in the silence.

Inhaling deeply, Katara tried to focus her attention on Frog Face so that the tears wouldn’t have to sit so close to the surface. “I gave my beads to Zuko. Just before he left—I wanted to make sure he had something to remember me by.”

“Oh, Katara. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head again. “It’s fine. I mean—I really miss him, but we’ll be leaving the North Pole soon, then we’ll find him, and—and everything is going to be fine.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve lost someone very dear to you,” Yue said softly. “You don’t have to be fine.”

“Well, you seem fine, and you actually lost your fiance. I just had to watch my friend leave.”

Yue gave what was probably the least dignified expression that Katara had ever seen on her face. “I don’t think that the two can really be compared. Hahn was—he had potential to grow into a good man. He wasn’t doing much to help himself along that path, though.” She paused, giving Katara a significant look. “And I certainly didn’t feel for him the way you do for Zuko.”

Maybe Katara should have denied it. By Yue’s tone, it was clear that she thought that there was something going on between Katara and Zuko, something big and probably romantic. But Katara’s feelings were still too muddled to even work out whether she would have wanted something like that, so instead, she just shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like Hahn was the easiest person to make friends with.”

“He wasn’t,” Yue said. “Hopefully I’ll have better luck next time.”

“Next time?” Katara straightened a little. “Is your father really going to make you marry someone else?”

This time, it was Yue’s turn to shrug. “He needs a successor sooner or later. I don’t imagine it will be made official for some time, but—have you met Angun in your waterbending lessons?”

Katara nodded. Angun was one of the better waterbenders in her class, and though she hadn’t really made friends with anyone in lessons, he was at least civil with her and the others. It was a low bar, but he seemed a lot better than Hahn.

“Chief Arnook chose him?”

Yue gave a small nod. “Yes. Of course it hasn’t been announced yet, and it won’t be for some time, but it’s fairly definite at this point. And—I suppose I’m more optimistic about this match than the last one.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing.” Looking back down, Katara stroked Frog Face’s wing again. “It would have been nice if he’d given you an actual choice, though.”

“I can’t pretend that I’m the only person in this room whose future is bound to her title. My responsibility is to my tribe, yours is to the whole world.”

Katara grimaced. “That’s a frightening thought. Even if it does give me a good excuse to go to the Earth Kingdom to search for Zuko.” With a slow exhalation, she looked up to meet Yue’s eyes again. “That’s actually why I’m here right now. We are going to be leaving pretty soon, and—it’s silly, but I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen afterward.”

“That doesn’t sound silly to me.”

Her mouth pulled off to the side. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with Frog Face. It’s definitely a little silly, but I don’t think I can take him south with me. And I guess I would just feel better knowing that someone up here was taking care of him.” Another exhalation. “I’m not sure if you know of anyone who could take him after I leave, but I thought that if anyone would know something like that, it would be you.”

For a moment, Yue was silent, then, “Could I keep him?”

“You want Frog Face?”

Yue gave a small shrug. “Well, I will be losing a good number of my closest friends when you leave. I hear that some of the healers will be traveling south too, so—with so many people gone, it might be a good idea to have some distractions.”

Frog Face gave a near-deafening screech, and Katara winced. “He’s definitely distracting. I’m not convinced that that’s always a good thing.”

“I know.” With a slight smile, Yue reached across and patted Frog Face’s fluffy head. “I mean this with all the love in the world—he seems like best possible way for me to remember all of you and keep you close. Including Prince Zuko.”

Chapter Text

Fifteen days now.

For some reason, Zuko still couldn’t stop counting the days since they’d left the North Pole. Since he’d lost sight of Katara back on that icy ledge and lost a substantial part of himself in the bargain. Fifteen days on a small, increasingly unsteady raft, with no hint of land in sight.

Although he couldn’t seem to forget how long they’d been at sea, Zuko couldn’t actually remember how long it had been since he’d started restricting his own portion of the rations, or how long after that Uncle had finally realized that their supplies wouldn’t last all the way to the Earth Kingdom. There was still a little food left, but the water supply was dangerously low, and they’d passed the last of the icebergs days ago. Maybe if they’d thought a little further ahead, they could have chipped off enough ice and snow to keep themselves from dying of thirst.

As it was now, Zuko wasn’t sure how much longer they could last out here. In another day, the water would be gone completely, and after that—well, it didn’t pay to linger on it. He’d gone over the possibilities enough times already. If they didn’t reach land, neither he nor Uncle would make it to the end of their third week on the raft.

If there was any consolation to be found in this whole mess, it was probably the fact that Uncle had finally stopped asking if Zuko was okay. By now, he had to look as bad as he felt, and even Uncle wasn’t likely to press for more than that. He was hungry, he was thirsty, and the salt on the air was wearing away at the skin of his fingertips and knuckles, leaving behind ugly sores that refused to close. And Uncle wasn’t doing much better.

“You should lie down, Prince Zuko,” Uncle said. “Get some rest. I will keep watch tonight.”

Zuko frowned, brows furrowing. “I’m fine, Uncle. I slept last night. You didn’t.”

“I slept for much of the day.” A pause, and when Zuko didn’t respond, Uncle pressed on. “A few hours, then. We should reach land quite soon, and it would not do to arrive so unrested.”

“You’ve been saying that for days now. What makes this time any different? I still can’t see anything but water out there.”

“The wind has picked up in the past few days. We will have traveled much farther than I anticipated at first.”

With a scoff, Zuko shook his head. The wind had gotten stronger, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were anywhere near the Earth Kingdom shore. For all he knew, they could still be days and days away. They could have been blown into the middle of the broad sea that divided the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, and they would have no way of knowing it.

“Please, Nephew. You look—”

“How? How do I look, Uncle? Like I’ve been floating across the ocean for more than two weeks on a raft with only ten days worth of provisions?” The hoarse rasp that remained of his voice wavered, then failed, and Zuko tried to swallow. It was no use. His voice was rough even at the best of times, and without enough water to keep his throat quenched, it was a wonder he could speak at all.

“You look tired,” Uncle finished. “Your sleep was not restful last night, and I suspect that you have not been eating well while I rest either. If you carry on this way, it will only be a matter of time before you make yourself ill.”

Looking away, Zuko shook his head. Uncle wasn’t wrong, exactly, but he was also missing the point. There just wasn’t enough food for the two of them. Zuko was being careful with his own rations to be certain that they wouldn’t starve out here. And as far as rest went, it was just difficult to sleep on a raft slowly bobbing its way across the ocean. There wasn’t anything he could do to fix either of those things, no matter what Uncle thought.

Whether or not Zuko would be taking better care of himself if he had a choice was a different matter entirely.

It took several dry swallows before the scratchy feeling in his throat receded enough for his voice to return. “I’m not sure I’m the person you should be worried about.”

“Prince Zuko—”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep, Uncle.” He wanted to say that he wasn’t tired, but that was a step too far for him. Zuko was tired. He had been for quite some time now, but that didn’t mean that sleep would come easy. Or that he even wanted it to.

“Then you should at least try to rest a while.” Uncle scooted closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We may still have a long journey ahead of us once we reach land. Lying down for a few hours would be better than nothing.”

Would it? Zuko wanted to ask. Lying down meant more opportunity for his mind to run wild, to replay memories over and over again. If he dozed off after the several hours it would inevitably take for the exhaustion to overtake the discomfort of lying on a raft and the racing of his mind, then those thoughts, those memories would just follow him into his dreams. At least if he stayed awake and upright until he could feel sleep trying to drag him down, he could keep himself busy enough that thoughts of the North Pole wouldn’t overwhelm him.

But it didn’t pay to ask Uncle anything like that. Instead, he settled for, “Where are we supposed to be going? If you know that it’s going to be a long journey even after we land, you must have a plan.”

Uncle nodded. “Indeed I do. I have an acquaintance some miles south of where I believe we will land. Once we find her, we will have time to rest and develop our plans further.”

Great. Another acquaintance who Zuko had barely even heard of. Somehow, that idea didn’t bode well when the last acquaintance had thrown Zuko out, driven him off from practically everything and everyone he cared about. What would be next? An acquaintance who would sell them both out to Father?

Zuko set his jaw. “If we’ll have so much time to rest, then I don’t see why you’re so worried about getting me to go to sleep now.”

“Prince Zuko—”

“I’m not skipping my turn to keep watch just because you think I’m too weak to handle it.”

“I do not believe that you are weak, Nephew. I am simply concerned that your health may worsen if you carry on like this.”

“My health is fine.”

“You have lost weight, and I am afraid that you may be heading toward a bad fever. I will not risk losing you again, Nephew.”

“I don’t have a fever!” Zuko snapped. “And what about you, Uncle? If I get sick, I get sick. But if anything happens to you, I might as well give up. I don’t have anyone else. And I’m not stupid enough to think that I’ll survive on my own.”

Uncle froze for just a moment, and his forehead creased. “Prince Zuko—”

He shook his head. “None of your Pai Sho friends know me. My only friends are at the North Pole. I’d starve to death before I found someone else who’d be willing to help me.” He fixed Uncle with a glare. “I’m not stupid. I know how much people hate us for being Fire Nation. Nobody else will care what I’ve done.”

For a while, Uncle seemed too stunned or aghast or—something to speak. But at long last, he nodded. “Very well, then.” Though he didn’t lie down, he did at least settle back against the raft’s spindly mast, and his hands folded atop his stomach.

Zuko sighed, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. Good. He could feel his voice getting closer to failing again, and if he’d tried to keep arguing, Uncle might very well have broken through his resolve. Zuko didn’t want to sleep, and he doubted whether he even could, but he wasn’t feeling particularly well. The hunger and thirst were bad enough on their own, but even his Water Tribe clothing couldn’t keep out the constant, pervasive dampness, and the places where his skin had cracked grew redder and more swollen by the day.

For all he knew, Uncle could be right. He could be well on his way to falling sick already, and Zuko wouldn’t know the difference. He just didn’t care.

The breeze shifted after a few minutes, and Zuko adjusted their shabby sail to keep the raft headed south, then sat at the edge of the raft again, staring at the blue ivory beads that still dangled from the cord around his wrist. He wondered what Katara was doing now. Whether she was happy. If she even thought about him anymore.

He doubted it. She was with her own people, surrounded by friends and family who undoubtedly kept her too busy to spend much time remembering him. Even when he’d still been there, the vast majority of her time had been filled with other things. That wouldn’t have changed. Katara was smart enough not to let herself wallow in misery. She had enough other friends that she probably wasn’t miserable in the first place.

There was a painful tug in the middle of his chest, and Zuko blinked a few times. There were no tears left to spill anymore, but he still felt a bit like he might cry. Like he should. Of all the people who’d ever cared about him—Mother, Uncle, and then Katara—he only had one left, and losing Katara had hurt more than he’d thought possible. Maybe it was because she wasn’t family, because she didn’t have any obligation to him the way that Mother and Uncle had. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

He slid the beads around his wrist, not really caring that both his fingertips and his wrist were raw and cracked from the saltwater and the coarseness of the twine that held the beads in place. If Katara were here right now, she would probably be angry with him. She would probably be on Uncle’s side, pushing Zuko to rest and take better care of himself. He would probably earn a solid flick in the middle of the forehead for his stubbornness, and then Katara would probably chastise him for volunteering to sit up all night when he was already so tired.

If she were here, Zuko might have listened to her. But then if she were here, Zuko wouldn’t have to worry about thoughts of the North Pole overwhelming him when he tried to sleep. If she were here, he could just sleep.

After a while, Uncle’s breathing slowed, and Zuko looked back over his shoulder to find the old man asleep against the mast with his head wrenched uncomfortably to the side. With a sigh, Zuko looked to the south again. Though he didn’t particularly care where they were going, he almost wished that they had more than just a compass and a map to navigate with. Steering toward the south was simple enough, but it was nearly impossible to know just how far they’d gone without the instruments to measure their latitude. And without knowing how far south they’d traveled, there was no way to judge how far from land they might still be.

Not that the Earth Kingdom held much promise for him. Zuko had lost or left behind every scrap of Fire Nation clothing he owned at the North Pole, but the blue parka would hardly fool anyone when his face was right there, perfectly visible and perfectly obvious. And to make matters worse, he was traveling with Uncle, who still wore the same old red robes. If they ran into anyone who wasn’t one of Uncle’s Pai Sho friends, they were doomed.

But if they didn’t land soon, they would be equally doomed. And given the choice between a bleak, empty future and slowly dying of thirst on a raft, Zuko could at least admit that the Earth Kingdom was a better prospect. Ideally, they would find Uncle’s friend right away, take a little time to rest and resupply, and then move on as quickly as possible, before word of their survival could get out. Before Zuko could get too comfortable and start believing that he was safe. He was dead to the Fire Nation. The rest of the world wanted him dead. He had to remember that. He had to remember not to let his guard down again, no matter how tempting it seemed.

I’m sorry. This never should have happened to you.

His throat tightened at the memory of Katara’s voice, and for an instant, he swore he could feel the warmth of her arms pulling him in close, holding him until he’d run out of tears. Until the pain dulled to an ache and he could finally bear to pull away again.

Maybe things would have been easier if he hadn’t allowed himself to trust Katara in the first place. After all, opening up to her was the reason why the separation hurt so much. If he hadn’t let his guard down and allowed her through the walls that usually kept him safe, he never would have left himself vulnerable. She never would have been able to leave a hollow in the middle of his chest if he hadn’t allowed her to get so close to his heart.

Maybe. But frankly, Zuko didn’t have the energy to regret any of it. He would just have to learn from his mistakes from now on. He would just have to keep up his guard so that no one else could cross the same lines and leave him defenseless again.

The sky was beginning to darken by the time that the wind shifted again and Zuko had to get up to move the sail. When their course was corrected, Zuko stood for a few moments, holding tight to the mast as he scanned the horizon for the last time before the light faded too much for him to see. He didn’t expect to find anything. Not after this much time, this much uncertainty.

But this time, to his surprise, Zuko did catch sight of—something. It was just a faint grayish smudge along the southeastern horizon, too distant and indistinct for any real detail to reach him, but far, far too large to be a ship.

His pulse sped up, and his heart seemed to claw its way up to the back of his throat. Land. Relief and dread poured into him in near equal measure. On the one hand, land meant that they had a chance. That they might actually survive. On the other, land meant people. People could mean anyone—Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, enemies or allies. Probably enemies, regardless of the nation. If Uncle’s Pai Sho friends were really out there somewhere, they probably wouldn’t be the first people to cross paths with Zuko and Uncle.

Still, he had to at least try. He turned the sail as well as he could to push them more toward the southeast before the daylight failed entirely. His hands ached and felt a little unsteady as he adjusted the lines yet again. He was half convinced that his fingertips were bleeding by the time that he finished, but he kept moving and crouched down beside Uncle.

Zuko took hold of the old man’s shoulder and gave him a small shake. “Uncle. Uncle, wake up. I think I can see land out there.”

Katara couldn’t bring herself to watch when Sokka said goodbye to Yue. Though they’d had plenty of warning, though they’d been preparing themselves for this separation for some time now, the whole scene was far too familiar to her. There were only so many goodbyes she could handle in the span of a few weeks.

With a concerted effort, she turned her head away and looked up at the tall, wing-shaped sails of the ship meant to carry them southward. It was considerably smaller than any of the Fire Nation’s vessels that she’d encountered so far, but still two or three times the size of the Southern Tribe’s ships. Large enough to carry her, the boys, Appa, and a whole collection of waterbenders from the North Pole with ease. In just an hour or so, they would be gone.

Though it felt odd to disappear in the middle of their sendoff, Katara pushed aside the skins that hung over the door and ducked below deck. She’d already said her goodbyes to Yue and Imiq earlier in the morning, and Frog Face seemed perfectly contented with his new guardian. All of the other people she might have wanted to say goodbye to—Yugoda, Kriisax, and a few of the other girls from the healing huts—were coming along on the journey south. At least until they reached the Earth Kingdom coast and the earthbending master who Pakku insisted they work with, Katara could get away with putting off those farewells.

At the end of the narrow corridor, she found the cabin that she would be sharing with the boys and crouched by her pack to check on her belongings one last time. The old dusty green Earth Kingdom tunic lay nearly at the top of the pile alongside the small box of beads from Yue, folded just a tiny bit too small to cover the charcoal gray clothes they’d found left back at Zuko’s camp on the ridge. Briefly, her hand brushed over the top of all of it, ruffling the edges of the fabric.

It still hurt, but a slow inhalation was enough to stave off the tightness in her throat now. None of this was fair, but at least leaving behind one friend would bring her closer to reuniting with another. And maybe someday when all of this was over, things would be simpler. Maybe when the war ended, all of her friends, all of her family could actually be together.

It seemed like a good enough reason to keep fighting, if nothing else.

Katara returned to the deck just as Sokka finally pulled away from Yue, and Pakku shouted for the waterbenders to push off from the docks. She took her place at the railing beside Aang and waved to Yue and all the others still watching from the docks one last time before Sokka joined them, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

Aang patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sokka. Do you need to blow your nose or something?”

“What?” Sokka’s voice came out considerably higher than normal, and he pulled back from Aang’s hand. “I’m not crying or anything. I’m just—”

Katara let out a huff and elbowed Sokka when he bumped into her side. “Just knock off the manly act and let us give you a hug, would you?”

Though Sokka grumbled and pretended to resist her embrace for a second or two, he did eventually give in. While the ship pulled away from the shoreline, Sokka sagged into her a little, and Aang patted his shoulder from the other side. It was only after they’d rounded the first corner in the channel and lost sight of the city walls behind them that Sokka finally wriggled his way free from their grasp.

“Gaah,” he said, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’m just gonna—I don’t know. Talk to Appa or something.”

Katara looked back just long enough to see Sokka disappear below deck—not toward the part of the ship where Appa was waiting—before she looked out over the water again. As far as she knew, they would be at sea for a little more than a weeks’ time, and as much as she was going to miss some of the people they were leaving behind, she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t anxious to speed the journey along in any way possible. Even for Sokka’s sake. The North Pole had felt like home for a while, but that feeling had disappeared weeks ago.

There was a small nudge from Aang. “Shouldn’t we go after him?”

She shook her head. “No. Not right now. I think he needs some time alone.”

“I don’t get it.”

Frowning, she glanced toward Aang. “What don’t you get?”

“This. I mean—” He paused, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t get why Sokka’s so upset about leaving. It’s just traveling. The North Pole is still here. We can always come back and see everyone later.”

She raised a single eyebrow at him.

“We can,” Aang insisted. “We have Appa. We flew all the way across the world, you know. It’s not like we can never come back again.”

“Well—obviously it’s not impossible.” She could feel Aang watching her intently, and she fumbled over her words for a few moments. “But—you know, just because we could maybe come back someday doesn’t make any of this easier.”

“It should. When I was growing up at the Air Temples, I had to leave my friends behind and travel with Monk Gyatso all the time. It was never a problem for us. Or for any of the other Air Nomads I knew.”

“Yeah, well, Sokka and I aren’t Air Nomads.”

“But you’re traveling with me, and I have a sky bison. We can go anywhere we want.”

Katara shot another look at him. “Don’t you remember how long it took us to get to the North Pole from the Earth Kingdom? You and I are going to be in training as soon as we get there. We won’t have time to drop everything and fly north for a few weeks just because we feel like it.” With a small sigh, she watched the tiny whirlpools erupting and then fading away again in the ship’s wake. “And even if we could go wherever we wanted, it wouldn’t be the same as it used to be.”

Aang wouldn’t look at her, but she could hear and see the tension in his jaw. “I don’t see why not.”

“We’re growing up, Aang. And once some things change, they never go back.”

When he didn’t answer, Katara exhaled again. She wished that she didn’t have to have this conversation right now. She wanted a bit of time to herself to sort out how she really felt about leaving, and to start planning her search for Zuko. She wanted things to be more like they’d been at the North Pole, back when she could trust that some other friend, some adult could step in to help when she felt out of her depth. That part wasn’t entirely behind her yet—she still had a full ships’ worth of people to turn to for several more days—but already, she could feel the weights descending onto her shoulders again.

Somehow, she’d forgotten about this part of traveling. The part where so much of the work and so much of the support had to come from her.

“Yue is getting married to somebody else,” she said eventually. “And Sokka knows that. Even though he’s in love with her, he’d have to find a way to deal with that if we ever went back to the North Pole. And some of my friends are going to the South Pole, so they wouldn’t be around. And I’d bet that a lot of your friends from lessons will be switching to the advanced class in a few more months. If we ever go back, they might not want to play the same games with you anymore.” Her hands tightened on the railing, and she stared down at the creases in the sides of her mittens. “It won’t be like when you were little and you could just pick back up where you left off. Things change when you get older. People do too.”

There was silence for another moment, and she almost missed it when Aang muttered, “Seems like you want to pick up right where you left off.”

“What?”

Aang flushed bright red and pulled back from the railing. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything. I’m just—I’m gonna go. Okay? Bye!”

“Aang, just—” Katara began, but by the time that the words left her mouth, Aang had dashed away, off toward where Appa lounged at the far end of the deck.

Katara groaned, and her shoulders slumped a little. She could go after Aang and try to iron things out, to figure out what on earth he was trying to say, but she suspected that she wouldn’t be able to get much out of him. More importantly, she wasn’t in the mood to even try. Instead, she turned for the stairs that led down beneath the deck. She’d probably waited long enough now for Sokka to have calmed down a bit and gotten a little lonely. Enough so that he might want to talk.

Kriisax met her halfway down the stairs. “Hey! I was going to look for you just a minute ago!”

“Oh.” Katara stopped in the middle of the steps. “I was just going to check on Sokka.”

Kriisax gave an understanding nod. “Yugoda’s in there with him. I think she heard him crying a while ago.”

“Really?” The crying didn’t really surprise her, but the fact that Yugoda had taken it upon herself to look after Sokka for a while did. Normally, that fell solely to Katara. Normally, she was the one who had to step up and take care of everyone.

Kriisax nodded. “Yeah. Yugoda would probably play grandmother to the whole world if she had the time.” She paused. “I think she’s got it all under control.”

Chapter Text

The raft crashed straight into the rocks at the coastline, and Zuko was immediately thrown off balance. Badly. Thought he’d been holding tight to the mast to withstand the increasingly rough waters as he steered them toward the coast, his knees still buckled beneath him.

It hurt. More than he expected it to, and for a few moments, Zuko couldn’t get himself to move. He was tired and cold, and the jarring contact with the raft had awakened aches he hadn’t recognized before. Although the raft was badly damaged on one side where it had crashed into a rock, and each wave sent a fresh cascade of water across the planking, he wished that he could lie down for a while. He wanted to rest.

If he could just get off of the raft, he told himself, there would would be plenty of time for that. They’d made it to land, after all, and it was too dark to worry about looking for fresh water and food quite yet.

He just had to get up. Somehow. With the raft rising and pitching with every wave, that seemed difficult. Very difficult.

“Prince Zuko.” Uncle shook his shoulder. “Prince Zuko, you must get up. Quickly.”

With a hoarse groan, Zuko squinted upward. He could still make out Uncle’s face, even in the growing darkness, and the stern urgency staring back at him seemed a bit excessive. Who was going to see them at this time of evening? While Zuko’s clothes were relatively light in color and probably a bit more obvious against the dark rocks at the shorelines than Uncle’s deep crimson, it was too cold for anyone to be wandering around the shoreline after sunset, and too dim for anyone to make out much detail anyway. Where was all of this urgency coming from?

Slowly, he started to push himself up to his knees, but apparently that wasn’t enough for Uncle. Rather than waiting, Uncle gripped onto his arm with a surprising amount of force and hauled him to his feet.

“Come, Nephew. We cannot rest here. I am afraid that we may have landed along a heavily patrolled part of the Earth Kingdom coast.”

Zuko tried to respond—how could you possibly know that? Our map isn’t good enough to work out exactly where we landed. We could be anywhere right now—but his mouth was dry, and by the time that his voice started to cooperate again, Uncle was already dragging him to shore.

Never mind the odd sense of urgency. Zuko was beginning to wonder how on earth Uncle could possibly have so much energy under these circumstances. The slope up from the shoreline and toward the forest was steep, and yet it hardly seemed to slow Uncle down at all. Zuko, on the other hand, was still so accustomed to the constant motion of the raft that walking on level ground would have been challenging. Scrambling up toward the forest seemed almost impossible.

They were halfway up the slope, Uncle carrying what little remained of their provisions in a sack over one shoulder, when Zuko finally lost his footing and slipped. He landed hard on his knees, and a particularly jagged rock seemed to cut straight into his leg.

“Ahh!”

“Prince Zuko?” Uncle stepped back toward him, and his hand landed on Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Zuko grimaced and hauled himself upright. “I’m fine,” he answered, voice tight and clipped. “I just can’t see where we’re going, and—” He broke off midsentence. And he was tired. And it felt like the ground was moving beneath his feet. And even apart from the fresh gouge that had almost certainly been taken out of his shin, he ached.

How was he supposed to keep up with Uncle like this? As hard as he tried, Zuko couldn’t escape the feeling that he was slowly falling apart, that he was losing his grip on—everything. That if he tried to go much further, things could only get worse.

Uncle rustled around a bit before pressing a half-drained waterskin into Zuko’s hands. “Take a moment to drink. We must continue on for a mile or two before stopping.”

A mile or two? Zuko’s throat inexplicably tightened. “Uncle—”

“Drink. We cannot rest yet, but a bit of water should help.” Uncle raised a hand toward Zuko’s forehead as though he wanted to check for a fever.

Zuko shoved the hand away. He wasn’t sick, he was just miserable. Miserable enough that he wasn’t sure he could go the mile or two that Uncle wanted, but not in a bad enough state to warrant any real concern. And he really couldn’t understand why Uncle was so determined to make them travel so far so soon, but it didn’t like a question that was likely to get a real answer.

Rather than pressing for Uncle’s reasons, Zuko clamped his hands around the waterskin but refused to open the lid. “This is all the water we have left. We can’t waste it all now.”

Uncle shook his head. “The time for rationing is past. Please, Nephew. We will find more water soon.”

Zuko wanted to resist. He tried for a few seconds, but at long last, his resolve wavered, then failed. He was desperately thirsty, and as much as he wanted to fight back, or to at least stall so that he could rest here a little longer, the prospect of feeling even the tiniest bit better was too much of a temptation to bear. Water wouldn’t make everything better, but it had to help.

When he was through, Zuko tried to pass the waterskin back to Uncle, but Uncle refused to take it. Instead, he put an arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “Come along. You may drink the rest as we continue.”

Again, Uncle began to move before Zuko could properly react, and in far less time than he expected, they’d reached the top of the rise and plunged into the dark, tangled forest. It was cold and somewhat claustrophobic, and Zuko couldn’t understand how Uncle was finding his way through the trees without the benefit of at least a small flame to light their way. But it was somewhat easier to walk once they’d reached the level ground and Zuko began to adjust to the stillness of solid ground again. So he squinted in a futile effort to make out the path before them—if there even was a path—and did his best to keep up with Uncle.

There wasn’t much else that Zuko could do. He didn’t know where they were. He had even less idea where they were going. And now that they’d finally reached the Earth Kingdom, he felt more cut off from the rest of the world than ever before. If he got separated from Uncle, he would have nothing. Even with Uncle, he didn’t have much. Very few supplies, and even less hope.

They carried on walking, Zuko stumbling occasionally in the thick, oppressive darkness, for what felt like several hours before they finally reached a place where Uncle was content with stopping.

“I was concerned,” he informed Zuko as they settled at the base of an enormous tree, half sheltered by its fin-like roots sticking up from the ground, “that we may have landed rather near an Earth Kingdom military outpost. Had we lingered near the coastline, there is a very good chance that we would have been spotted.”

Zuko refused to respond to that. The military outpost was one thing. The prospect of being spotted by soldiers, regardless of their nation, was a good enough reason to run. But it was dark. Extremely dark, thanks to the narrow sliver of moon that cast only the faintest gray light over the world. There was no possible way that anyone would have seen them until closer to sunrise.

“They will likely find the raft in the morning,” Uncle continued in an undertone. “Or whatever is left of it. If they suspect that any survivors are nearby, they may attempt to track us for a time. But I believe we have gone far enough now to evade detection for a few hours at least.”

Zuko frowned. “Why would you assume that? We don’t even know where we are.”

“I do have some idea,” Uncle said. “It is difficult to be precise at this time of night, but I believe we are relatively near the Bei Haian Fortress. I have never had the honor of visiting the place in person, but I do recognize this area to some degree. And knowing Bei Haian’s reputation, I would not wish to take any chances.”

Then maybe we should have never left the North Pole. Zuko’s hands clenched into fists, and he rested his head back against the tree trunk. He’d heard of Bei Haian before—enough to remember that his ship had never docked there and never could have—but he didn’t know much else about the place. Certainly not enough to guess whether they were close to it or not. And when it was this dark, he doubted that Uncle could guess very accurately either. It wasn’t like Uncle’s travels had brought him to this part of the Earth Kingdom often.

Not unless he’d seen the shoreline on the way north three years ago. Back when Zuko was still freshly banished and too sick to realize where they were going.

“Where are you taking me?” Zuko asked, voice thin. It wasn’t like it mattered. He didn’t have any choice but to follow Uncle anymore. Still, the uncertainty was tiring.

There was a considerable pause, but Uncle did eventually speak. “The place is called Chuanxi. Near the Su Oku River. We will be safe there.”

Zuko stared straight ahead into the dark, indistinct shadows that made up the forest around them. “For how long?”

Another pause. “I do not know for certain. A few weeks at a minimum, I expect. Possibly several months if all goes well.” Uncle patted his arm. “Once we arrive, there will be plenty of time to rest and plan our next steps.”

Though that answer was far too optimistic for Zuko’s liking, it was at least more straightforward than he’d expected. There was no way that they’d be able to stay anywhere for months at a time, and even a few weeks would be pushing the limits. But they had a real destination. A real point on a map to aim toward instead of blindly hoping to run into one of Uncle’s friends.

It was better than nothing. Not by much, but enough for now.

He exhaled, hunching his shoulders so that the ruff of fur around his hood came a bit closer to covering his ears. The world still seemed to be shifting beneath him, and he had to press back against the tree to keep from wavering too badly. The sensation of bobbing along at sea would go away eventually. It had to.

“Is there anything else you would like to know? There are other people and places we may turn to in the future if you would care to hear—”

Zuko shook his head, which didn’t help the feeling that he was still aboard the raft. “It’s not like I get any say in what happens to me anyway.”

“Prince Zuko—”

“I don’t care about where we’re going, Uncle. I know I’ll have to keep running for the rest of my life. I just—” His voice caught painfully in his throat, and he had to cough to drive away the discomfort.

Uncle’s hand brushed across his forehead, and there was an instant of hesitation before the hand gripped Zuko’s shoulder instead. “You have a fever, Prince Zuko. Please. Have some food and water, then rest.”

Zuko opened his eyes to find Uncle’s shadowy form crouched in front of him. He pushed Uncle’s hand away. “I’m fine, Uncle.” He was. Achy and cold and tired and hungry, of course, but that was nothing. He wasn’t sick.

For some reason, Uncle didn’t back down, didn’t so much as shift to the side. Even in the dark, the intensity of his gaze was palpable. “You will not be fine if you carry on this way, Nephew. Please, allow yourself some food and water.”

He wanted to protest. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been taking care of himself—or at least not entirely that. He’d been trying to ration their food and water, trying to make sure that Uncle was okay, because if anything happened to Uncle, then there would be no one to help or look after Zuko. And nothing he’d done had been that extreme. He and Uncle were both malnourished and dehydrated.

“Please, Nephew. I do not wish to lose you, and I am certain that your friends would agree if they were here.”

Zuko’s insides clenched, and he had to look away. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” At least not now. Not over something like this. Reluctantly, he uncorked the waterskin one last time and drained the rest of its contents in a single swallow.

Though Katara would have gladly done without Pakku as a traveling companion, the rest of the crew was nice. Fun, even. Before they left the ice fields, they would occasionally stop alongside particularly large icebergs for a few hours at a time, and while the older men replenished their water supply, some of the younger waterbenders sparred with her and Aang. Aboard the ship too, there was plenty of activity to keep her mind occupied. When she wasn’t spending time with Sokka and Aang, she was with Kriisax and the other apprentice healers, all of whom were at least beginning to experiment with their bending when Pakku wasn’t around.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to make the journey south. She couldn’t just hop on Appa’s back and start searching the ocean and the distant coast for signs of Zuko’s raft the way she wanted to, but a ship full of people from the Northern Tribe didn’t feel quite as restrictive as she’d expected it to.

Still, she found herself rummaging through her pack a few times each day to check that her Earth Kingdom clothes and Zuko’s few belongings were still packed away where they belonged. And, on the few occasions when she woke before the sun reached the horizon, she crept out onto the deck before the rest of the ship woke up. She wasn’t good at meditation, and she doubted that it would actually bring her any closer to learning another element when she didn’t have a teacher to guide her along, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

As long as the boys didn’t see her meditating, at least. If they asked, she didn’t think she could possibly deny the fact that there was some small, silly part of her that wanted to imagine Zuko out there somewhere, meditating along with her even though they were miles and miles apart.

So on one of the cold, bright mornings early in their journey—beyond Kokkyo Island, but not yet far enough south to have left the last of the icebergs behind—Katara climbed out of her bunk, pulled on her parka, and padded up to the deck with her boots in her hand. The deck was frigid under her feet, and she stopped just outside the hold to slip her boots back on. It was beautiful outside. The air was clear and crisp, and ribbons of pink and purple traced across the eastern sky.

A middle-aged waterbender who had been on the night watch gave her a nod and a wave from the far side of the deck, but didn’t approach. Good. Katara exhaled slowly, watching her breath turn to mist and drift away on the air before padding across the deck. She perched cross legged at the very edge, facing the point in the sky where the sun would soon appear.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled and did her best to focus on the warmth in her core. She didn’t actually want to firebend at the moment, not with the night watch still milling around and the rest of the ship about to wake up to join them, but she didn’t have to start spewing out sparks. She remembered that brief, fleeting moment by the side of Isux Lake when the flames inside of her had risen just far enough to begin spreading tendrils of warmth out from her core. Surely, if the flames responded at all, that would be the limit of it.

She sat for a while, focusing on her breath until the sun rose and shone straight through her eyelids. There was something stirring deep in her stomach, but she wasn’t entirely sure where that sensation was coming from. She certainly wasn’t firebending outwardly, and if there was any unusual warmth building up, it was weak enough to blend in with the sun’s slow, spreading heat.

Maybe she was just hungry. That would make sense. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast yet.

She was just about to give up when a set of footsteps approached from behind her.

Pakku cleared his throat. “Good morning, Katara.”

Ugh. She exhaled, and her shoulders slumped forward. Of course it would be Pakku who interrupted her.

“You seem to be avoiding me.”

Katara scoffed, allowing her eyes to open just a slit. “Really? You think so?”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude, but I’ll take that as a yes.”

Her jaw tightened, and she shook her head, still not looking back. “Honestly, Master Pakku, I don’t think that what I’ve been doing counts as avoiding you. That implies that I’ve had to put in some effort.” She let out a slow breath and made a concerted effort at unclenching her hands. “Frankly, I’ve just found plenty of better things to spend my time on. If being busy makes it look like I’m avoiding you, that is not my problem.” The sun was beginning to rise high enough that she had no choice but to turn her head away. “But if I had been avoiding you intentionally, I think I would still be justified.”

Pakku cleared his throat again. “This is still about that boy, isn’t it?” He made very little attempt to mask the derision in his tone.

“Of course it’s about him!” She leapt to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, bright spots floating across her vision thanks to the sunlight. “That boy happens to be important to me. You know as well as I do how much he had to sacrifice to help us fight Admiral Zhao. He could have died protecting us. Of course I’m still upset that you sent him away.”

Pakku looked somewhat constipated. “That was for his own good.”

“I know. You keep saying that, but it doesn’t change anything.” Her throat began to tighten. Not again. She didn’t want to cry in front of Pakku again. “You made my best friend leave. And I have no idea where he is or what’s happening to him. For all I know, he and his uncle could be lost somewhere at sea and starving to death, or maybe that stupid raft fell apart days ago. They could be dead and I would never know it because you sent them away unprepared.”

Pakku shook his head almost imperceptibly. “They are not dead.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because—” Yet another loud harrumph as he cleared his throat. “Because I received a message quite recently from a mutual acquaintance. I have been trying to catch you alone to inform you that your—friend and his uncle reached their destination alive.”

For a moment, all Katara could do was stare. She should have been relieved, but for some reason, the word set her teeth on edge.  “Alive?”

“Yes, alive. Of the two possible alternatives, I tend to believe that that is the better option.”

“Since when are there only two alternatives? Alive barely means anything!” she burst out. “What happened to them? Are they hurt? Or sick? Are they even safe now, or—”

“They have a safe place to stay for a time,” Pakku replied flatly. “Beyond that, all I know for certain is that they are both alive. A letter can only say so much.”

Her jaw and both fists clenched. Sure, a letter from the general wasn’t likely to go into much clear detail, but even he wouldn’t just leave matters alone at alive. There had to be more to it, more that Pakku wasn’t telling her.

“Where are they?” Katara demanded. If he couldn’t assure her that Zuko was safe, she would just have to go see for herself. With Appa’s help, it couldn’t take more than a day or two, and once she found them, she could make sure that they were both safe and healthy and whole.

Brows drawn downward, Pakku shook his head. “I can’t tell you that now.”

“You don’t know where they are?”

His frown deepened. “Of course I know.”

“So why won’t you tell me?”

“You are Kanna’s granddaughter, and you have easy access to a sky bison. I am wise enough now to connect those dots.”

Katara crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “What makes you think that I won’t take Appa and go looking for Zuko anyway?”

Pakku gave a small, wry smile. “Because if you had any intention of doing something so reckless, you would not have waited to hear any confirmation from me.”

“Master Pakku—”

He shook his head, already beginning to turn away. “Not now, Katara. But if you insist on knowing more, I suppose I might be able to ask the general for information about your—friend’s condition.”

“I—of course I insist. I need to know if he’s okay.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “But I need to know where they are too.”

“I will inform the general of where you are going. If he deems it safe, then the two of them may join you in time.”

“‘May’ isn’t good enough for me,” she shot back. “I promised to find them, and I’m not going to let you turn me into a liar.”

Pakku sighed. “Naturally that wouldn’t be good enough.” He fixed her with a glare. “When we reach our destination, I might consider telling you where they’ve gone. Until then, stop worrying about that boy.” He said it like an order, then turned and stalked away.

Katara made no effort to stop him. That old snow goat. She knew that she had responsibilities and obligations. She wasn’t an idiot. But clearly didn’t believe that, and if he couldn’t even give her a chance to prove that she could find a balance, then she could see no reason to give him the time of day.

She would go through her earthbending training like she was supposed to. And she would find Zuko too. And if that meant that she had to track him down herself, she would do it.

Chapter Text

On some level, Zuko was aware that Uncle had a point. He had been sick when they first arrived at Chuanxi. Not seriously sick—he’d had a mild fever, and he slept more than usual—but bad enough that for the first few days, he couldn’t even try to deny that Uncle had been right.

But two days on, Uncle’s insistence that he just stay in bed and rest was beyond absurd. Zuko was fine. He didn’t feel great, but even the worst of it hadn’t been much more than a cold. Now that he’d actually had a few days to rest, there was no reason to keep lying around. But that fact didn’t seem to sway Uncle in the least.

Zuko waited until he was alone before clambering out of bed and slipping out through the back of the hut. As far as he was concerned, he’d played along for enough time now. If he didn’t feel better now, another day of lying around certainly wouldn’t help.

He followed the elevated wooden walkway about halfway to the next hut before he swung himself over the railing and dropped, soundless, to the ground below. Though Chuanxi had turned out to be a relatively quiet spot at this time of the year, it was still a resort of some kind, and there were still too many people milling about on the walkways through the forest and out across the river for his liking. There were hot mineral baths and steam rooms and enough twisted imitations of Fire Nation luxury that this was precisely the sort of place that would attract powerful people from all over the Earth Kingdom and the colonies. The kind of place that Uncle had always tried to drag Zuko off to in the early years of his banishment for ‘rest and relaxation’ that he neither needed nor wanted.

The kind of place where he couldn’t afford to be noticed now. And although Uncle insisted that the woman who ran Chuanxi was perfectly trustworthy and that all of the staff and guests were equally so, Zuko much preferred the forest itself to any of the public areas he could have visited instead.

Letting out a slow breath, he leaned back against one of the walkway’s support posts. It wasn’t just the people bothering him, he had to admit that much. If it was the people, he could just as well stay inside and irritate Uncle by refusing to lie down and rest. But this place was trying to imitate bits of the Fire Nation and doing it just well enough that every so often, his mind went hurtling down a spiral of memories from his childhood. Not all of them bad, but all soured by the time that had passed since then. The room that he and Uncle shared was worse than the rest of Chuanxi in that sense. It was almost like the room was designed to remind him of home as much as possible.

Sitting out here, out of sight beneath the walkways was better, but it wasn’t a complete escape. Even the clothes that he and Uncle had been given when they arrived were a dusty pinkish and gray—too drab to really be Fire Nation, and yet too red for the Earth Kingdom. Just close enough to catch him off guard when he caught a glimpse of the color from the corner of his eye. Enough to make him wish that he could go back to wearing his Water Tribe tunic. Even if it was too conspicuous, the illusion of closeness might be worth it.

His eyes burned a little, and he wiped his face with his sleeve. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t fool himself. Winter was fading back into springtime here, and though it was cool outside, the trees were beginning to come back to life, sprouting small, round buds that would open into blossoms in a matter of days. Most years, he would have been happy to see the change. Before, the shift from winter into spring and summer was the closest reminder of home he could get, but now it just reminded him of how far he’d gone from the only friends he’d ever had. Hundreds of miles and an entire season seemed like an insurmountable distance.

Zuko worked the cord encircling his wrist out from under his sleeve and traced his sore and swollen fingertips over the beads. So far, he’d managed to keep them hidden from Uncle, and though it seemed like a more difficult prospect with the weather growing warmer, he had no intention of changing that. It wasn’t that he thought Uncle would be upset or try to take the beads away from him. From a strictly logical point of view, he knew that Uncle was more likely to be delighted with the proof that Zuko really did have friends, that the North Pole hadn’t just been the uncomfortable, chaotic mess that Zuko made it out to be.

But that was exactly the problem. If Uncle really knew how much that place, those people meant to him, the subject would come up more often. There would be more questions to answer, more insinuations that Zuko should really get out more and make new friends now that he’d proven that he could. That was the last thing he wanted. Zuko had made friends once, and he’d been forced to leave them behind. If he could manage to stumble into friendship again, it would just be the same thing. He would just have to leave sooner or later, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Besides, he didn’t want new friends. He missed the ones he’d already made. He missed Katara more than he could have thought was possible, and even the smallest glimpse of the beads dangling around his wrist brought everything rushing back—the warmth of her gaze, the brightness of her voice.

The trouble was that he didn’t know if he could ever bring himself to see her again. Not when losing her had come so close to destroying him. Not when he knew all too well that he could never stay.

He hated this. All of this. He was a firebender, so he could never carve out a real home for himself in the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribes. He was banished, so he could never go home. Not that he wanted to anymore.

So where did that leave him?

With a sigh, he tipped his head back, allowing the sunlight to wash across his entire face. All the questions, all the uncertainty was exhausting. He’d been mulling over the same problems for days now, and still, the only thing he was certain of was the fact that he would back himself into the same inescapable corner again if he had a chance to try and change things.

His fingertips traced over the beads again. I’m giving you something to fight for. He wished that things could be as simple as Katara had made them sound in that moment. He wished that finding her again could somehow solve everything and give him a purpose again. That would be doable. He’d tracked her down dozens of times before. There was no reason he couldn’t do it again. But now—if all that finding her meant was that it would have to end again, he wasn’t sure it was worth the pain.

He picked at the knot in the cord, then winced when the coarse fibers bit into the raw, still-healing skin at his fingertips. Maybe what he needed was a little distance. Right now, whenever he tried to think about the future, to plan, he just got sucked back into the same old spiral of memories. Into wishing that he’d never left the North Pole or that he could just find Katara again and forget that they’d ever been apart.

Which wasn’t helpful. Even he knew that.

So maybe if he packed the beads away with the rest of his things, just for a day or two, just long enough to get to a point where he could manage a scrap of clarity without being overwhelmed by her voice flooding back into his mind, things would get easier. Maybe if he pushed her out of his mind for just a little while, a plan would come to him.

It had to be worth a try. Nothing else had helped so far, and he was beginning to feel like he was losing his mind. He had to come up with something, some purpose for his life, or he’d never make it.

The knot finally came loose, and the cord fell into his lap. Carefully, Zuko picked it back up, allowing the beads to rest in his palm.

Yes, this was probably right. He needed space. He needed to put Katara out of his mind for at least a little while. He couldn’t keep relying on her memory to help keep himself afloat.

His throat grew tight, and he did his best not to notice when his grip tightened around the beads.

“Hello again, Madame Mi Cha,” Iroh said, bowing low. “I hope you don’t mind another friendly intrusion.”

From the low table in the center of the room, Mi Cha glanced up. “I swear, your tea cravings are more reliable than any hourglass I’ve ever seen.”

“Like any good firebender, I am attuned to the movements of the sun. I suppose it is hardly surprising that my stomach is similarly attuned.” Without waiting for any further invitation, he bustled to the back shelf where a respectable selection of teas waited. “Would you care for a cup as well?”

“Mmm. As long as you’re not making one of your ridiculous blends, I suppose I might as well.” A pause. “Does your boy realize that I can see him perfectly well from here when he sneaks out in broad daylight?”

Iroh glanced back over his shoulder and sighed when the last flash of a pale gray sleeve disappeared around the corner at the back of the hut. Despite his best efforts, Zuko still wasn’t taking to their new situation well. Though his fever hadn’t gotten any worse, he still refused to rest as much as he ought, and his recovery had understandably slowed.

“Under better circumstances, he can be remarkably stealthy,” Iroh said, stretching up for one of the teas on the uppermost shelf. “I suspect that he may be more careless than usual simply because he does not feel very well.”

“I thought you said that you were keeping him in his room until he recovered.”

“I did intend to.” Iroh placed the teapot on the stove and brought up a gentle, crackling flame around its base without touching the fuel. “But he is restless, and I suspect that the boredom was doing more harm than good. If I cannot convince him to lie down to rest, then finding someplace outdoors to sit in the fresh air will have to do.”

For a long moment, Mi Cha was silent. Then, “I thought that he would be out of sight for a bit longer than this.”

“I assure you, my nephew will not cause any trouble, Madame.”

“Your nephew isn’t the trouble that worries me.”

With the water in the pot rising to a simmer, Iroh turned back far enough to find Mi Cha watching him, eyes narrowed, with her brush hovering a fraction over the page she’d been working on.

“I thought I had a few more days to sort out my staff before the boy would start wandering all over. A few of my groundskeepers are—talkative.” She gestured toward the paper in front of her. “If the boy could have waited a few more days, I’d have sent them off to Bei Haian for more supplies. But if his boredom is more important than that—”

“I see.” Iroh turned his attention back to the teapot. “I will speak with my nephew this evening. Unless I am badly mistaken, he will be avoiding company as much as possible. With any luck, that will be enough to keep him out of sight.”

“You had better hope so.” Papers rustled on Mi Cha’s table, and her voice dropped a fraction. “If word gets out, don’t count on being able to stay here more than a week before the real trouble starts.”

“I anticipated staying for two or three weeks at the most. As long as my nephew recovers soon, I suppose an earlier departure would not be the end of the world.” He peered over his shoulder again. “Have you received any word from Omashu recently?”

A scoff. “Bumi doesn’t write unless his tea leaves align and his goat gorilla speaks to him in a dream. And frankly, I might lose my senses if I had to decipher his letters more often.” She glanced up. “That’s where you’re taking the boy?”

Iroh gave a small, noncommittal grunt. “It is the best option I can see for now.”

“Suppose I’ve heard worse ideas.”

As much as he wished he could say otherwise, Iroh thought roughly the same. Omashu was a safe destination to aim for, at least relative to the other options he’d considered. It was a well-protected city in the mountains, far enough inland that the Fire Nation wouldn’t reach them easily. And if any of Iroh’s many acquaintances could offer protection for more than a few months, it had to be Bumi.

Still, Omashu was a long way off, and there was still Zuko to think of. Though the illness hadn’t proven nearly as severe as Iroh feared at first, it would still take time for Zuko to recover enough for such a journey. More importantly, there was no telling yet how well Zuko would adapt to a new home, to new people once he was well again. He’d made friends once, and though the stories he told about them were a bit worrisome, it was perfectly evident that his friends—or at least one of them—had meant the world to him. That leaving had done a good deal of damage, and that finding new connections would be incredibly difficult.

“Has there been any news from our northern friend?” Iroh ventured just as the tea finished brewing and he turned back toward Mi Cha with the pot in hand.

“Nothing especially new. The Avatars are moving on from the North Pole. I imagine they’re near their destination by now.”

Iroh brightened. “Is that so?”

Mi Cha’s gaze held stone-still. “They’re going to Bei Haian, Grand Lotus. If you value your neck, you’ll keep your distance.”

“That is General Fong’s outpost, correct?”

She nodded.

“Ah.” Iroh knew a little of General Fong’s reputation from years past—enough to know that he was an ambitious young man, and a force to be reckoned with in the Earth Kingdom. Enough to know that it had been wise to steer well clear of the place when they’d first reached land, and that venturing any closer, even with convincing Earth Kingdom disguises, would be dangerous.

“You’re still thinking about going there, aren’t you?” Mi Cha said, voice flat.

Iroh sighed as he poured one cup of tea, then a second. “It is a difficult situation. Sometimes, a bit of risk may be worthwhile if it allows hope to flourish.” Delicate swirls of steam spiraled upward from the cup in his hands. “But this may not be the time for it.”

“Stop it, Uncle.” Zuko pushed the old man’s hand away for what felt like the dozenth time. “I get it, you finally believe that I’m not sick. That doesn’t mean that you have to keep checking every two minutes. I don’t have a fever anymore, and that’s not going to change.”

“I am sorry, Nephew.” Uncle seemed reluctant to pull away, but he satisfied himself with patting Zuko’s shoulder a few times. “I am relieved to see that you are feeling better at last.”

At last? It had only been a handful of days since they’d arrived here, and even if Zuko had actually been sick, that certainly wasn’t enough time to cause any real concern. “What did you think was going to happen?” he asked. “I told you I was going to be fine, and now I am.”

“You did say that,” Uncle said. Though he was smiling, there was still an undercurrent of concern in his eyes and his voice. “You certainly did.”

“Uncle.”

“I cannot help but worry, Nephew. You are my only family now, and I have seen fate take too many cruel turns before.”

“This is nothing like—” Zuko had to stop himself and exhale to bring his tone back under control when he caught a glimpse of Uncle’s expression. He was annoyed, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak too harshly when Uncle looked like that. “I’m fine. It’s not like I was hurt or anything. There really wasn’t anything that could have happened to me.”

Not like Lu Ten. Or like the way that Zuko had gotten sick straight after his banishment. This was nothing by comparison, and surely Uncle had to realize that.

Uncle stared for a moment at Zuko’s scabbed knuckles—and Zuko yanked his hands back up his sleeves and out of sight—before he shook his head. “Times of great upheaval can be dangerous as well. Sometimes a great change may cause a serious illness, and I feared that it had begun for you.”

“You thought I was so upset that I was going to die?”

That earned him a disapproving look from Uncle. “I am serious, Nephew. I experienced it myself after—”

After Lu Ten. Zuko didn’t have to hear the end of the sentence to catch the implication. He looked downward. “Sorry.”

Uncle reached across and patted his shoulder again. “You do not need to apologize. I am just grateful that things seem to be improving.”

Improving. It was difficult to see things that way when it felt like so little was changing. Physically, Zuko felt fine. Not spectacular, but fine. In every other sense, though—he frowned and rubbed involuntarily at his bare wrist. It had been a few days since he’d taken off Katara’s beads now, but he still felt bare without them. And while his mind was a fraction clearer than before, while he’d managed to make it through a few hours at a time without thinking about Katara or the North Pole, he found himself sifting through his belongings just to be certain that the beads were still there much more often than was probably necessary.

For all he knew, maybe it was better. But to him, it didn’t feel different enough to warrant any such description. He was still just here, still just existing from one day to the next without much purpose.

“Is there something wrong with your wrist, Nephew?” Uncle asked.

Zuko jerked back to the present and yanked his sleeve down. “No. It’s just—this stupid robe is itchy.”

“Is it?”

It wasn’t. Not really. Saltwater had soaked into the cord holding Katara’s beads, and when he’d finally taken them off, the irritated skin had become a little sensitive, but the robe itself was fine.

His face heated, and he fidgeted with the end of his sleeve again. “Probably just something wrong with the seam. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you certain? Perhaps Madame Mi Cha could take a look and make some adjustments—”

“It’s fine, Uncle! Besides, we’re not going to be here that much longer. It’s not like we’re going to be able to wear any of this stuff once we leave Chuanxi.”

Uncle opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then, “What do you mean by that?”

Zuko’s jaw clenched, and he stared out the open window. In the past few days, the trees had begun to sprout tiny, delicate leaves, and some of the blossoms had begun to open. Judging by that change, they’d probably been here too long already.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I know I must be wanted for treason by now. If we stay in one place for too long, they’ll find us and I’ll be killed.”

“Prince Zuko—”

“What? What’s the problem? If you don’t want to come with me, then I’ll just—”

“Prince Zuko!” Uncle’s tone was sharper this time. “I will not leave you to face this alone.”

“So what’s the issue, then? I know we can’t stay here. Why pretend that we can?”

Uncle frowned deeper. “I never said that we should pretend any such thing.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I am only saying that we do not need to rush off immediately. We have only been here a few days, and a bit more rest before we resume our journey would probably be wise.” A pause, and Uncle stared hard at him. “Even if someone has learned of our location, it will take time for them to reach us. And if we spare a few more days, we will both be better prepared for travel.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. Part of him had to admit that Uncle had a point, that a little more time would probably help, but another, larger part of himself rebelled. It didn’t feel like Uncle wanted more time to prepare for a journey. It felt like he was stalling for time. Like he didn’t believe that Zuko was strong enough to travel, or even smart enough to know the difference. It felt like Uncle didn’t trust him. Again.

He pushed to his feet. “I’m going.”

Uncle started up after him. “Where are you—”

“Alone, Uncle.”

“Where are you going, Nephew?”

Zuko was already almost to the door. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “I need some air. But don’t worry about me going too far since I’m still apparently too weak to travel.” Then, ignoring Uncle’s protests, he stepped outside and slammed the door shut.

Very smooth, he heard Katara’s voice say in the back of his mind, and he almost swore that he felt her flick him in the middle of the forehead. He wasn’t calling you weak.

Zuko tightened his hands into fists, started toward the western end of Chuanxi, remembered that that was where Uncle usually drank tea and gossiped with Mi Cha, and turned to the east instead. Maybe they both had a point. Or maybe Uncle had a point and Zuko subconsciously agreed with it—Katara’s voice wasn’t really telling him anything. She wasn’t really here.

Still, the idea of spending a few extra days here just for the sake of resting chafed at him for some reason. What good would it do him to sit around and pretend that he was safe here, that the illusion of safety had any chance of lasting? In a matter of days, they would have to leave, and no matter where he and Uncle went from here, it would just be more of the same. A few days or weeks to settle in and rest, followed immediately by still more running. It didn’t pay to get comfortable here or anywhere else, for that matter.

He followed the wooden walkway, head down, until he came to its end. From there, the drop to the forest floor was relatively high—much higher than he was willing to risk, even to avoid any prying eyes along the walkway. He veered toward the left instead, following the walkway along the farthest end of Chuanxi. As soon as he found a place with a short enough drop, he figured that he would probably jump down into the forest to wander for a few hours while he cleared his head and waited for Uncle to wander off for another inevitable Pai Sho night with Mi Cha.

But when he came near enough to the end of the walkway to consider dropping to the forest floor, Zuko finally looked up and found that he’d walked right up to an unfamiliar building, this one larger than any of the guest houses he’d seen so far, and wide open at the end. He hesitated a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he peered inside.

Messenger hawks. Rows upon rows of them, all in shining brass cages.

Zuko stopped walking and surveyed the area outside the hawkery. No one was coming. Maybe, just maybe, he could spare a few minutes to poke around inside without being spotted.

Carefully, quietly, he crossed the threshold, eyes straining to make out detail in the dimness. Most of the hawks appeared to be asleep on their perches, feathers fluffed up and eyes shut, but a few near the doorway were awake, busily preening themselves. Zuko stopped in front of one of them, a pretty, rust colored bird, and watched for a few moments.

“I bet you could find her, couldn’t you?” he said, voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “You would know exactly where to go. Any one of you would.” His throat tightened, and he paused. Considering how many ‘connections’ Uncle claimed to have all over the world, and how much it sounded like they all talked to one another, he wouldn’t be surprised if each and every one of these hawks had been to the North Pole at least once.

“Looking to send a letter?”

Zuko jumped, and when his eyes adjusted better to the dark, he found Mi Cha peering at him from around the corner of the first row of hawk cages.

Damn it. He couldn’t even hide properly.

“I’m just—no. I don’t want to send a letter.”

“That doesn’t sound much like what I heard a minute ago.”

He scowled. “Yeah, well—it doesn’t matter either way. I don’t have any money. I couldn’t send a letter if I wanted to.”

“Mmm.” Mi Cha resumed her work, cleaning out one of the cages. “Don’t be so sure about that, young man.”

“What? You don’t charge for your messenger hawks?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.” She paused in her cleaning long enough to meet his gaze. “Unless you’ve got something to be sent through the network.”

“The what?”

“The network, boy,” Mi Cha said as though that made anything clearer.

Zuko blinked. “What is the—wait. Is that what Uncle calls his Pai Sho friends?”

A disapproving frown. “Pai Sho friends. You make it sound so trivial.”

Isn’t it? He had to bite down hard on his own tongue to keep from blurting the question out. Uncle hadn’t said much about his ‘connections’ so far, but the little he had shared made it sound very much like it was just a group of old people who played Pai Sho by mail.

Mi Cha sighed loudly. “Fine. I suppose if that’s what you’d like to call us, then yes, your uncle’s Pai Sho friends exchange letters freely. If you want to write one of them, I won’t charge you for the hawk.”

He could. He could send a letter to Pakku and include a message to Katara somewhere in it. Or better yet, he could write a whole letter to Katara, scribble out a single line to Pakku on a separate note, and keep the old man from seeing what Zuko had to say to Katara. But even if Zuko kept the messages separate, there was no way to guarantee that Pakku would hand over a letter to Katara. There wasn’t even a good way to guarantee that he wouldn’t read Zuko’s message before handing it over, and—ugh. Zuko rejected the idea all over again.

“No. I don’t trust him anywhere near my letters.”

“Him?”

Zuko grimaced. “Master Pakku. I don’t trust him to tell anybody anything.”

“Mmm.” Mi Cha went back to her cleaning again. “But he’s not the only person in this world. Certainly not the only one worth writing to. Although if that’s the sort of company you want to keep at your age, then—”

“I never wanted to write to Pakku,” Zuko snapped. “It’s—that pruney old jerk is just the closest I can get to someone I do care about.”

If insinuating looks from Uncle were bad, they were much, much worse coming from a near-stranger like Mi Cha. “Use a little imagination, would you? There’s more to the world than just the North Pole. More people you might want to talk to.” She paused, and a single, steel-gray eyebrow raised a fraction. “Family, maybe.”

For a second, Zuko couldn’t do much but stare. Mi Cha knew who he and Uncle really were, right? She was Uncle’s friend and the only reason they were able to stay here at the moment. “I—are you insane? There’s no way I could write to my father.”

“Not him. You have other relatives.”

“I’m not writing to my sister either. She’s even worse than Father.”

For a moment, Mi Cha stared at him. Then, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a child with so little imagination before.”

“I’m not—”

“You are a child. And if you cannot strain your mind far enough to imagine another relative you might consider contacting, then there’s no use in me trying.” She waved toward the door. “Go on. If you aren’t going to help scrub out the cages, then I don’t need you here. Just take a piece of paper from the shelf before you go, and if you change your mind about writing a letter, you can bring it back to me when you’re through.”

Zuko scowled, but he obeyed. Much as he didn’t want to write a letter to anyone, it was easier to just grab a scrap of paper and go rather than arguing with Mi Cha. He wasn’t going to change his mind just because he was carrying around a piece of paper. He was just trying to get out of an uncomfortable conversation. Trying to escape before Uncle decided to wander into the hawkery for more gossip with Mi Cha. He was not going to reopen old wounds by trying to reach out to Katara now.

At least that was what he told himself. But after he’d wandered around the forest for a while, and circled back to his room—thankfully empty now—his resolve had begun to waver. He wanted to speak to Katara again. He wanted to see her again, even if it wasn’t a good idea, even if it hurt. He didn’t think he was strong enough to resist the urge to try.

Doing his best to collect himself, Zuko sat at the low table and spread the blank paper out in front of him. He wasn’t doing anything definite yet. He was just writing a letter. He probably wouldn’t even send it.

He could do this. It would be fine.

The brush hovered over the page for an instant before he began writing.

Katara—

I am alive.

When he’d completed the last brushstroke of the last character, his mind went blank and his hand stopped moving.

That was it. That was all he could think to tell her.

His shoulders slumped and his head dropped into his hands.

Chapter Text

“This is incredible! It’s so warm out here. This must be what summer feels like.”

For a few seconds, Katara could only stare at Kriisax. The ship had passed the last of the icebergs a few days ago, and the ice that had built up on the railings was finally melted, but that didn’t exactly make it warm outside. Still, Kriisax had pulled off her parka and was practically bouncing with what Katara had to assume was excitement.

“Are you feeling okay?” Katara asked a little haltingly.

“Okay? Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Sokka leaned in from the other side and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “I think Katara’s trying to say that you’re acting pretty weird right now. I mean, even Aang isn’t completely bouncing off the walls, and he’s just a kid.”

Katara glared. “That wasn’t what I was trying to say, but thanks for putting words in my mouth, Sokka.”

Kriisax didn’t seem especially amused either. “Just a kid as opposed to what? How old do you think I am?”

“I dunno.” Sokka paused, then rubbed his chin. “Probably like—seventeen or eighteen? A little older than Yue.”

“Lucky guess,” Kriisax said flatly.

“What I was saying,” Katara interjected before Sokka got a chance to gloat, “is that it’s barely above freezing. That’s not exactly summer weather. And not to sound like my Gran-Gran or anything, but—”

“I’m not going to catch a cold.” Still, Kriisax stooped and reluctantly picked her parka back up off of the deck. “It’s just so weird being able to take my parka off outside. I feel a lot lighter than normal. I think I like it.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Sokka said. “Turns out there’s only so many layers of clothes you can take off to cool down before people start complaining.”

Shooting him a glare, Katara patted Kriisax’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him, he’s just trying to be funny.”

“Hey! I am funny. And also right.”

Kriisax pursed her lips. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She gestured toward Aang. “Besides, why are you making a fuss about me taking my parka off when he’s right there? Or is he the reason you’re worried I’ll strip naked if it gets too warm?”

“I don’t get naked when it’s warm out!” Aang protested. “I just don’t see why I should wear a coat or anything when I can keep myself warm with my bending instead.”

“Maybe you should have considered it for—you know. Disguise purposes. You’re like a tropical stripe monkey trying to blend in with a bunch of turtleseals most of the time.” Sokka swept an arm through the air, motioning from Aang’s head down to his feet. “I mean, look at you. I’ve never seen that much yellow before in my life. Except maybe at some Earth Kingdom fruit stands.”

Aang started to protest—possibly in defense of his clothes, or possibly because there was no such thing as a tropical stripe monkey—but he didn’t get far before Sokka grabbed his shoulder, then snagged Katara with the other hand.

“Speaking of which,” Sokka added, leaning forward conspiratorially, “we really need to start thinking about how we’re gonna—”

“Katara!”

Shaking Sokka’s hand off, Katara turned to find Yugoda standing a few paces away.

“May I borrow you for a few moments?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” She did, however, stop for just long enough to shoot a look at Kriisax. “Feel free to ditch these two if they keep it up. Sokka might keep trying to bicker with Aang all afternoon.”

Kriisax gave a crooked smile and a nod of acknowledgment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey!” Sokka protested. “I am a mature, level-headed—”

Katara didn’t hear the end of the sentence before she descended below deck, just a few paces behind Yugoda. Though plenty of noise from the deck carried down through the planks and into the hold, it was nearly as quiet and dim down below as it got after sunset.

Yugoda waved her cheerfully into the cabin at the far end of the ship where she and a few of the younger healers slept, then turned to rifle through a chest against the wall. “If I am not mistaken, you have been neglecting your healing practice a bit recently.”

With a grimace, Katara froze just inside the doorway. “That’s—I mean, I guess I have, but I wasn’t trying to neglect it. There isn’t much healing to do out here, and I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to practice.”

Yugoda shot a smile back over her shoulder. “That is precisely what I hoped to talk with you about.” She hefted something large and apparently heavy from the trunk and allowed the lid to thump closed as she turned back to face Katara. “Sometimes, mastering a new art has more to do with study than it does with practice.”

The book she held out in Katara’s direction was nearly as thick as her arm, and Katara felt her eyes widen a bit. “You want me to spend the rest of the trip reading that?” She wasn’t sure that there would be enough time to skim through the whole thing even once before they landed in the Earth Kingdom, much less time to actually learn from it.

“Goodness, no. Several generations’ worth of wisdom deserves much more time than that,” Yugoda said. “It’s been many decades since I started learning, and there are still times when I find myself turning to this old thing for help in difficult cases.”

Slowly, Katara nodded. That made sense, she supposed. Once she’d worked out the basics of combat waterbending, the more complex forms followed naturally from that foundation, but healing was different. Healing wasn’t just about making the water go where she wanted it to—it was about knowing how the body would react to each and every little change as well. And she had to imagine that some of the less common injuries and illnesses were still finicky to deal with after years of training.

“I’d like you to have it,” she continued, passing the book across to Katara. “I know you don’t care much for healing, but the time is going to come when you’ll be far from the nearest master healer. I hope to the spirits that you’ll never need it, but I think we’ll all feel better knowing that you and your friends at least have a competent healer and a book of everything we didn’t have the time to teach you when that day comes.”

Almost against her will, Katara’s hands closed around the book, and her throat went tight. Right. In just a few days’ time, she and the boys would probably be on their own again. Pakku had arranged an earthbending teacher for her and Aang to work with, of course, but the little she’d heard about their destination so far didn’t make it sound like the most pleasant or welcoming place. Not the sort of place where they were likely to find friends like Yue or Kriisax, and not the sort of place where teachers were willing to welcome them in almost as family the way that Yugoda and Imiq had done.

She would still have the boys, but that wouldn’t be much help when Katara inevitably wound up saddled with all the cooking, all the dishes, all the laundry once again. Sometimes they didn’t feel like her friends as much as they felt like her charges. Like sometimes, she was the only thing keeping the three of them from falling apart completely.

She pushed the book back toward Yugoda. “I—no, I can’t take this. You just said that you still have to use it sometimes. I can’t take your book from you.”

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I couldn’t get by without it. All of the girls have their own families’ books with basically the same information. All of us could easily get by with one.”

“But—” Katara huffed. She wasn’t sure why it suddenly seemed so important to push back on this exact point, but maybe it was just easier than any other path she could see. “But if your family has been putting this together for decades, then you should give it to Imiq or one of your grandchildren instead of me.”

Yugoda frowned. “Each of my waterbending children and grandchildren have had their own copies for years. Mine isn’t any more important than any of the others. I want you to have it.” There was a short pause. Then, “Is everything okay, dear? You seem upset.”

Katara wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so for a moment, she didn’t. The book was a nice gesture. She couldn’t deny that. And if she was going to be stuck looking after everyone else all over again, having a book full of healing techniques to fall back on if they ever got hurt would be much better than nothing. Still, it seemed like too much weight to carry on her own shoulders.

When Yugoda reached across to pat her shoulder, Katara finally found her voice again. “I don’t want to have to heal my friends.”

“I’m sure you don’t. And I’m also sure that you will all do a wonderful job of protecting each other. But it is always best to be prepared.”

“I know, it’s just—” She had to stop for a long, steadying breath. “I’m not ready to take care of everyone again. I forgot how much things were going to change when we left the North Pole.”

“I see.” Yugoda smiled sympathetically, then pulled her into a hug. “Oh, dear girl. And you’ve been away from home for a very long time too. It must be hard to travel so far when you’re still so young.”

Katara shook her head a little. “The traveling is fine. I like seeing all these new places and meeting new people. It’s just—I have to do a lot of the work, and I miss the people we have to leave behind. I miss Gran-Gran.” She pulled back from Yugoda, doing her best to swallow away the tightness in her throat.

“I’m sure you do.” Yugoda looked a little pleased to see Katara still holding the book. “Have you written to Kanna since you left home?”

“No. It’s not like we’ve had a good way to send letters to the South Pole. And now—I’m sure Master Pakku will be begging to play messenger for us in a few days, but I trust him about as far as I can throw him.” Katara paused. “Or less than that. If I use my bending, I can throw people pretty far.”

Judging by the half-amused, half-disapproving look on Yugoda’s face, she hadn’t quite decided whether throwing Pakku was a good idea or not. Either way, Yugoda didn’t comment on that point. “He isn’t the only person hoping to see Kanna again after all this time. If you’d like to send news to your grandmother, I would be more than willing to take a letter to her.”

Katara’s first impulse was to agree. There was so much that she wanted to tell Gran-Gran now—so many things that had happened, and so many that had changed. A letter probably couldn’t contain everything, but with some thought, she and Sokka could narrow things down well enough to at least assure her that they were okay.

But then Katara’s second impulse struck, and a wave of doubt washed over her. Telling Gran-Gran what had happened since they left home would be practically impossible without mentioning Zuko. And explaining Zuko in a letter would take more ink, more paper, and more patience than any of them would be able to find.

“I’ll have to talk to Sokka about that,” Katara said after a long hesitation. “I mean—there’s only so much that we can tell Gran-Gran without making her worry.”

“You really are her granddaughter, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that that is precisely the sort of thing I imagine Kanna thought before she left.” She rested a hand on Katara’s shoulder. “Your grandmother will always worry for you. There’s no escaping that. But I’m sure that you and your friends will do just fine in the Earth Kingdom.” A small, sly smile crossed her face. “And I suspect that you will feel better once your search for a certain friend of yours is through.”

“What?” Katara stood a bit straighter. “Do you know where Zuko is?”

“Not exactly. But Master Pakku has implied to me that he’s preparing to tell you something about your friend before we land.”

“He has to prepare for something like that?”

Smiling, Yugoda shrugged. “If I understood it, I would explain it. Master Pakku has always been very particular about things.”

Katara made a face. “That’s one way to put it.” She hugged the book to her chest. Somehow, the thought of going off to look for Zuko, the idea of finding him and traveling together made everything feel a little brighter, a little less weighty. If Pakku kept his word and told her where to look, she wouldn’t mind looking after the boys for a few days. Because once they found Zuko and the general, Katara wouldn’t have to carry all that weight on her own anymore.

“Seriously, though,” Sokka said, keeping his voice low. It was well after dark, and the ship had gone quiet save for the distant creaking from the sails and the waves slapping softly against the hull. “We need a plan for when we land in the Earth Kingdom.”

Lying snug in her sleeping bag, Katara stared up at the beams above her. “What sort of plan are you looking for? Aang and I have to learn earthbending, and Pakku’s already found a master for us. There isn’t much else for us to figure out.” Not unless he was talking about Zuko, and Katara very much doubted that possibility.

“I mean that Pakku hasn’t exactly made it clear whether this new master guy knows that he’s getting two Avatars for the price of one.” There was a creak from his bunk as he turned and perched on the edge. “What happens if we get there, this guy thinks that Katara is just a waterbender, and he refuses to teach her just like Pakku did? Somehow, I get the feeling that a big old bending brawl in the middle of the city wouldn’t go quite as well a second time.”

Frowning, Katara rolled onto her side just in time to see Aang lean over the side of his own bunk so that his head nearly collided with Sokka’s.

“Nobody needs to fight anyone,” Aang protested. “We can find a better way to do things this time.”

Sokka blinked a few times, then cupped his hand over Aang’s whole face and shoved back until they were at least a foot apart. “Do better things isn’t the groundbreaking advice you think it is, Seaweed Breath.”

“Do we know what Pakku has told the earthbending master?” Katara asked, raising her voice just high enough to be heard over Aang’s squawks of protest. “Maybe he already decided that for us.”

A scoff. “Yeah, and maybe he secretly sees me as the grandson he never had. Come on, Katara. Pakku is friends with General Iroh, and we’ve all seen the kind of nonsense those old guys like to write to each other. There’s no way he said anything useful.”

“How do you know that?” Aang pulled back a bit, hanging from the foot of his bunk rather than the middle. “It doesn’t seem like Pakku likes riddles as much as General Iroh does.”

“Yeah, but he did tell me to pay closer attention to who knows who Katara is in the future,” Sokka said. “Which makes it sound a bit like he hasn’t told your new teacher anything.”

Really? Pakku had let her identity slip out to Yugoda back at the North Pole one way or another. Which didn’t give him much room to lecture them about keeping secrets.

Still, Katara wasn’t accustomed to being recognized as one of the Avatars. Just the thought of being called ‘Avatar Katara’ on a regular basis unnerved her a little. She hadn’t mastered more than one element yet, she couldn’t go into the Spirit World, and her control over the Avatar State was limited at best. For right now, the title felt a little too big.

“But that’s an easy problem to fix,” Aang said. “Katara can just say that she’s the Avatar now. She knows one element, and she’s starting to learn a second one. Everybody knows what that means.”

“What?” She sat up, wriggling around until she managed to free her arms from her sleeping bag. “I haven’t started learning a new element yet. The little bit of firebending I learned from Zuko doesn’t work most of the time, and it doesn’t look like much when it does. I’m still not sure that most people will believe me if I try to prove myself.”

Sokka nodded vigorously. “See? That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Katara narrowed her eyes at him.

“Think about it. Pakku picked this teacher for you guys, and not only is Pakku a real ray of sunshine—” He paused just long enough to get a grunt of affirmation from Katara. “—but Pakku hasn’t even met this guy before. How are we supposed to know if he’s trustworthy or not?”

“He is a master earthbender, Sokka,” Aang inserted.

“Yeah, and so is your nutty friend Bumi. I’m not sure that’s the most reassuring quality a person can have.” Sokka leaned across the narrow aisle between the bunks, resting one elbow on his knee and cupping a hand by his mouth conspiratorially. “So if it turns out that Pakku hasn’t told this new teacher anything about the two-Avatars mess, then we could play it safe for a while longer. Why paint another target on our backs when we’ve already got the one?”

“Hey! I never got the chance to hide the fact that I was the Avatar,” Aang said, just a little petulant.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that, bud? You’re the one who went out of his way to show off every time we went someplace new.”

“I wasn’t showing off, Sokka. I was just—”

For some reason, though Katara wasn’t ready to call herself the Avatar out in the open, the idea of denying it completely made her stomach twist into knots. “And how is that supposed to work, Sokka? I’m a waterbender. When people realize that, they’re not going to let me into earthbending lessons without a very good reason.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “We would lie, obviously. We’ve got one grandparent from the North Pole. Who’s to say that we couldn’t have another one from Kyoshi Island who passed earthbending down to you?”

Katara set her jaw. “I’m supposed to finish teaching Aang how to waterbend. If I start pretending that I’m really just an earthbender, then—” Then she wouldn’t be able to teach Aang out in the open. She’d have to pretend that she hadn’t spent the past several months working to master her native element. She would go from Katara, master waterbender and—adequate healing student—to nobody.

It hurt to even consider it. She’d already left enough of herself behind without putting aside her own element for the foreseeable future.

“What?” Sokka asked. He reached his leg across the divide between their bunks and poked at her sleeping bag with one big, stinky toe. “What’s the problem now?”

She squirmed and smacked his leg out of the way. “Your stinky feet are the problem.”

“Oh, come on, My feet don’t—” He hauled his foot up toward his face, sniffed, then went very still and silent for a second before a small, gagging cough worked its way up his throat. “They smell great,” he croaked, letting his leg drop and fanning the air with his hand.

“Kinda makes your eyes water, doesn’t it?” Aang asked, his head hanging just out of Sokka’s reach.

“Shush, Baldie. I didn’t ask you.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “If we pretend that I’m just an earthbender, what are we supposed to do about the rest of Aang’s waterbending lessons? Sneaking around for practice at the North Pole was one thing, but we’re going to some kind of military base, right? It’s probably going to be a lot harder to hide things there.”

“Oh.” Sokka leaned back against the wall with a thump. “Well—I guess it doesn’t have to be a permanent thing. Just like a week or so. Just long enough to make sure that this new teacher guy isn’t a total creep.”

A week? As far as hiding her waterbending went, that wasn’t a bad compromise, she supposed. But spending a whole week with their new teacher after reaching the Earth Kingdom, even if it was to work out whether or not they could trust him, sounded like a long time. At the longest, she’d figured that they would wait a day or two to get settled in before they set off with Appa to search the coast. What if a week was too long to wait?

“I guess,” she conceded, but she couldn’t keep an edge of reluctance from creeping into her tone. Then, quieter, “If there’s nothing more important for us to do.”

Though the sun stayed up longer and longer as they traveled to the south, the days seemed to pass quicker than they had before. And almost as soon as Katara managed to reconcile herself to the fact that she would have to hide her waterbending for at least a week—she wasn’t sure whether that would come before or after she and the boys went looking for Zuko—they came within sight of the Earth Kingdom coast. According to Pakku, they were still a day or two out from their destination at Bei Haian, but that fact had done nothing to dissuade the others from swarming onto the deck to gawk at the approaching shoreline.

“Aren’t you coming, Katara?” Kriisax called into the cabin. “There are trees out there! I thought you were all exaggerating when you said everything was green.”

Katara looked up from digging through her pack, an eyebrow arched in bemusement. “You know, I have seen trees before, right? Go ahead. I’ll be up there in just a minute.”

There was just a brief pause before Kriisax gave in. “Okay, but you’re missing out! This is great!” With that, she dashed away, feet thumping up toward the deck.

Shaking her head, Katara let out a slow breath. The excitement made sense, it really did, but for the moment, she was a bit too deep in a dilemma of her own to join in. She’d come down to the cabin with the intention of just folding up her parka and returning to the deck with all the others to enjoy the warmer weather while they watched the coastline drifting past. But a corner of her Earth Kingdom tunic had been poking out of the top of her pack, and now it was almost like she was pinned in place, staring at the soft green fabric.

She didn’t need to change her clothes. Her Water Tribe tunic wasn’t much heavier than the Earth Kingdom one, and she certainly wasn’t going to overheat in this weather. And although she’d gotten used to the idea of masquerading as an earthbender, now was a bit too early to start pretending. Logically, her best option was to leave the clothes here, go up to the deck and enjoy her last few days at sea with the Northern Tribe. She could start wearing green when they reached their destination, when there were actually people she needed to convince that she wasn’t Water Tribe.

But then, these weren’t just Earth Kingdom clothes. They’d been a gift of sorts, and that was the reason it was so hard to pull herself away. Katara knew that.

She cast a quick glance back over her shoulder to be certain that she was still alone below deck, and when she finally emerged a minute later, her Water Tribe tunic was tucked neatly away in her pack. Letting out a slow exhalation, she smoothed the front of her soft green tunic. It fit her much better now that she’d trimmed away all the fire-damaged bits of cloth and stitched what remained back into a usable garment, but there was still something familiar in the way the fabric felt against her skin. Something oddly grounding—almost comforting.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched across the deck to join the boys and Kriisax at the railing.

Sokka’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “Um—Katara.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, doing her best to act like she didn’t understand the reason for his staring. “What? Is there a problem, Sokka?”

He blinked. “Do you think?”

“I think that there shouldn’t be a problem. You said that we should try to blend in more when we land. Why shouldn’t I start a little early?”

Kriisax leaned in from the other side. “Oh! Is this what most people wear in the Earth Kingdom?” She paused for a moment, then wrinkled her nose. “When you said they wore a lot of green, I was picturing a different kind of green.”

Grateful for the distraction, Katara turned toward her instead. “They don’t all dress the same. This is just the only Earth Kingdom outfit I have. And in this weather, it’s pretty nice.” She chose not to mention the fact that the last time she’d worn this tunic had been the first time she’d really seen through Zuko’s hardened façade. The first time he’d ever grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to safety.

“I suppose. You do look nice, though.”

Sokka noisily cleared his throat. “Katara. Are you forgetting where you got those clothes? And when I said that we should lie low, I was sort of imagining a whole big shopping day for the three of us.”

“I haven’t forgotten, and nobody’s saying that we can’t go shopping when we land.” Katara crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “We could probably all do with a few new outfits if we actually want to blend in. I just happen to have one already.”

“Yeah, well—I think it’s weird.” With a huff, Sokka leaned forward so hard that his elbows thonked against the railing.

Kriisax nudged her arm. “A gift from your friend?”

Katara gave a lopsided shrug. “Sort of.”

“Zuko gave them to her when she was stuck on his ship for a while,” Aang chimed in helpfully from Sokka’s other side. “But they look pretty different now. Katara had to fix them after the ship blew up.”

“Exactly,” Sokka said. “It’s kind of weird that you want to keep anything from back then.”

“Well I think it’s weird that you’re trying to turn this into a big deal. I want to keep the clothes.” With a slow exhalation, she looked out at the shoreline creeping past them in the distance. “Thinking about where I got them doesn’t bother me anymore. And if I don’t have an issue with it, then you shouldn’t either.”

For a moment, Sokka audibly struggled for words, then groaned, rubbed a hand down the side of his face, and turned to lean his back against the railing. Then after another moment, he elbowed her. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird. Look.”

She glanced back over her shoulder to find Pakku standing closer to the middle of the deck, arms crossed and glaring at her. With a scoff, she shook her head. “He can mind his own business too. And I’m not sure that you really want to put yourself in a group with Pakku of all people.” Then, while Sokka was busy looking deeply displeased with that, she leaned around him to meet Aang’s eyes. “What about you? Are you going to try to blend in too?”

“Yeah, right,” Sokka grumbled. “Baldy the Tattoo Boy wouldn’t even wear a parka at the North Pole.”

Aang shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. The Earth Kingdom has a lot of hats. Maybe I could be the Hat Boy instead of the Tattoo Boy.”

“That might be a good idea,” Katara said. She looked out over the water again. Somewhere out there, Zuko was waiting for her. All she had to do was find him.

Chapter Text

“Don’t believe a word he says, my dear,” Yugoda whispered close by Katara’s ear. “Master Pakku may think that the water from the Spirit Oasis was his idea now, but really, he fought me about it for three days before we left the North Pole. If he’d had his way then, he would have sent you off with just the combat scrolls and a pat on the back.”

Katara did her best not to laugh. Though she had to admit that the combat scrolls from Pakku were impressive, he had been a bit too keen to take credit for giving her both the scrolls and the ornate vial of healing water from the Spirit Oasis. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he thought that sending her off with a few nice gifts from the North Pole would be enough to wipe everything else away and make her forget her dislike of him.

“I figured as much,” Katara replied, hugging Yugoda just a bit tighter for a second before taking a step back. This was harder than she’d anticipated. She’d already said her goodbyes to everyone else, and she’d checked the cabin at least three times to be certain that she hadn’t forgotten anything, but actually stepping down off of the ship and allowing the others to sail away was a daunting prospect. “Thank you for everything. I’m going to miss you, Master Yugoda.”

Yugoda patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do many wonderful things without us. In a few days, when you find what you’ve been looking for, we probably won’t even cross your mind anymore.” She pulled the letter that Katara and Sokka had written for Gran-Gran just an inch or so out of her pocket. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure that Kanna gets your letter.”

With a slow nod, Katara inhaled and took her first step down the ramp to join the boys on the dock. A team of earthbenders had come down from the fortress to meet them, but since Pakku had taken it upon himself to introduce them all properly, Sokka and Aang both looked profoundly bored with the conversation.

“—and this young lady is Katara,” Pakku finished telling the earthbender at the front of the group. There was a pause, and for a few seconds, she was half convinced that he was about to tell the earthbenders precisely who she was. That even though Sokka had gone out of his way yesterday to tell Pakku that they wanted to keep her real identity hidden for a few days after they arrived, none of their opinions would be enough to sway the old snow goat. But he did eventually conclude with, “I’m sure she will be a diligent student.”

The earthbender at the front of the group bowed, and the others followed his example. “I am General Fong. My men and I are delighted to meet the three of you, and we only hope that our instruction will be sufficient to meet the needs of the Avatar.” He looked directly at Aang as he finished—directly enough that Katara felt safe in the assumption that he had no idea who she was.

Good. Apparently Pakku could keep his word about some things.

“Bei Haian is not a luxurious place, but we hope that our accommodations will be comfortable enough,” Fong continued. “Though I do understand that you have spent a long time traveling, and any bed is welcome after sleeping on the ground.”

“Aww, man, I was hoping for silk sheets and a mattress made of butterfly wings,” Sokka deadpanned. Then, when Fong chuckled, he elbowed both Katara and Aang. “Look at that. A bending teacher who can take a joke. I think I’m gonna like it here.”

Katara took a step to the side to get clear of his elbow. “I’m not sure that liking your jokes is always a good sign.”

“You just don’t appreciate my comedic genius.” Sokka stuck his nose up in the air. “It’s your loss.”

“If you would all like to follow me,” Fong interjected, smoothly enough that it didn’t sound like a deflection, “I would be more than happy to show you where you’ll be staying. And once you’ve gotten settled, we have a modest feast prepared to celebrate your arrival.” He paused. “You are welcome to join us as well, Master Pakku.”

Pakku grunted. “We need to set off before the tide turns again. I just need one last word with Katara before we leave.”

Fong seemed perfectly happy to accept that and motioned for one of his men to hang back by the shoreline to escort her to the fortress when she was through before leading the boys up the sloping street and away from the harbor.

Arms crossed, Katara turned to face Pakku once they were alone on the dock. “Well? Are you finally going to keep your promise and tell me where to find him?”

Pakku raised an eyebrow at her. “Who?”

Her jaw clenched. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. I need to find my friend before something bad happens to him.”

The ends of Pakku’s mustache twitched. “You’re still thinking about that boy?”

“Of course I am! Why else do you think I would stick around to talk to you? You promised to tell me where he is.”

“I don’t recall doing any such thing. I believe I said that I would consider telling you where to find him. And after the last letter I received from the boy’s uncle, I no longer think it would be wise to say more.”

Katara’s jaw dropped. “What? Master Pakku—”

His expression remained perfectly still. “The general told me that it was unlikely they would be able to stay where they were more than a few days after his letter. Anything I could tell you now would be useless by the time you have a chance to go searching for them.”

“I could leave now,” she countered. “If they’re in danger where they’ve been staying, that’s all the more reason for me to find them as soon as possible.” If she knew where Zuko and the general were, she could protect them. She’d done it before, to some extent. It couldn’t be that hard to hide them again.

“It would be useless to look for them now,” Pakku said dismissively. “I suspect that Bei Haian won’t be any safer for them than the North Pole was. And General Iroh knows where you’ve gone. If I’m wrong and he decides that a reunion is worth the risk, that will be his decision to make.”

“But you can’t just—”

“Katara. I had hoped that we might have a civil conversation before we part ways.”

Her vision flashed red. “Oh, did you? Somehow, I find it hard to believe that you ever thought this conversation would go well. You aren’t that stupid.”

“I didn’t intend to discuss your ‘friend.’ But maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected rationality when you have so clearly been obsessed with that firebender since before we left the North Pole.”

Though the rage didn’t abate—if anything, it settled in deeper—Katara’s pulse slowed, and she felt herself go strangely calm. She stood a little taller, staring daggers straight into Pakku’s eyes. “Maybe if you were as rational as you think, you would have thought about the fact that Aang and I are going to need a firebending master sooner or later. But fine. If you don’t care whether we learn all four elements, go ahead and tell me what it was you wanted to talk about. I’m sure it’s more important.”

Pakku went just the tiniest bit gray, but he cleared his throat as though he were completely unbothered. “I will be seeing your grandmother in a few weeks’ time. If there is anything you would like me to tell Kanna, I would be happy to deliver a message on your behalf.”

Katara didn’t so much as blink. “No. Not unless you want to tell her that I think you’re probably the same arrogant jerk she left behind sixty years ago.”

Again, his mustache twitched. “Is insulting me really the best use of your only message back to your grandmother after so many months away from home?”

“Of course not. Luckily it’s not my only message for Gran-Gran. Sokka and I wrote her a letter a few days ago. At least Master Yugoda thinks about things like that in advance.” She waited for a few seconds, then when there was no response, she added, “Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

Pakku harrumphed and looked like he’d tasted something sour, but he eventually sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll ever think any better of me, is there?”

She shook her head ever so slightly. “I don’t think you’ll ever earn that. Some people can admit when they’re wrong and actually try to make things better. I’ve never seen any reason to believe that you know how to do that.”

He couldn’t seem to find a way to respond to that, and Katara waited until it became absolutely clear that no answer was coming. Until she was convinced that no amount of glaring would be enough to make him crack and finally admit where Zuko was.

With a sharp exhalation that bordered on a humorless laugh, she shook her head. “Thanks, Master Pakku. You’ve taught me a lot more than you probably realize.”

Much to her relief, settling into Bei Haian was fairly easy once they’d arrived. She and the boys had a small set of rooms in one of the barracks, and while there wasn’t much more than a narrow bunk for each of them in the bedrooms and a small table with a set of cushions in the common space that joined the bedrooms together, it seemed comfortable enough. A little more sparse than the house they’d shared at the North Pole, of course, but that made sense. Bei Haian was a military base, not a proper city.

It would probably take a while to adjust to that fact. There would be no classmates here, no other kids to befriend or confide in. No nice old ladies to offer copious amounts of food and occasionally surprising advice. Just a lot of soldiers, and from what little Katara had seen so far, most of them were men.

But General Fong was welcoming in his own right. He seemed a bit too interested in talking to Aang about the Air Nomads and what it was like being the Avatar through the length of the small feast on their first night, and he hadn’t said much to either Katara or Sokka, but that wasn’t so bad. A bit uncomfortable, maybe, but she and Sokka were pretending to just be normal kids with a bit of Earth Kingdom heritage. It stood to reason that Fong would be more interested in an Air Nomad Avatar born more than a hundred years ago than anyone else. And it was a bit entertaining to watch Aang trying to dodge question after question, just for the sake of eating as many of the meat-free dishes as he could.

When she woke up the following morning to find Aang already gone, though, worry began to set in. Fong didn’t know that she was the Avatar too, that much was fine. But she was still an earthbender. Or she would be soon, if she could actually start her lessons. With Aang gone, his bunk empty, and not so much as a note left behind, it was hard not to think that Fong had begun earthbending lessons without her. After all, it had felt a bit like she’d been forgotten at the feast last night. Actually being forgotten didn’t seem too far removed from that.

Katara ventured out just far enough to be certain that neither Aang nor Fong was waiting for her to join in on training before she returned to the barracks again. As frustrating as it was to be left behind, she supposed that it didn’t pay to wander off too far. If it turned out that Fong had forgotten about her after all, maybe she could convince Sokka to go out for a quick trip up and down the coast with her and Appa. That would be better than nothing. Even if she didn’t know where exactly to look, she would have to get close to Zuko’s location sooner or later.

She was just finishing the last few bites of her breakfast when Sokka stumbled out of his room with half his wolftail escaped from its binding, the other half standing straight up, and crease marks pressed into his cheek. Yawning expansively, he plopped down on the cushion across from her and swiped an arm clumsily across the table, just managing to snag a single strip of seal jerky from her hand.

With a squawk of protest, she leaned back out of the way. “Sokka! That’s my breakfast. Go and get your own.”

“I don’t wanna. It’s too early.”

“Yeah? Well, I also think that it’s too early to get my food stolen by a greedy, grabby jerk.” She turned away from the table, pulling her breakfast into her lap and resting her back against the wall. “Where’s Aang?”

Sokka blinked a few times as he gnawed on the end of his stolen jerky strip. “Aang’s not here?”

“He wasn’t in his bunk, and he’s not eating breakfast or playing with Momo. I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he’s not here.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know that? I was sleeping.”

“You were sleeping in the bunk right below him. How did you not hear him leave?”

Another few bleary blinks. “I’m guessing it’s because I’m talented.”

Katara groaned, but before she managed to respond, someone knocked on the door. Hmm. Maybe Fong hadn’t quite forgotten her.

“You go get that,” Sokka mumbled. Jerky clutched in his fist, he folded his arms atop the table and dropped his head onto them. “I’m too sleepy to move.”

Katara glared at the top of his head, then reached across and gave his wolftail a short twist. “I think you’re just being lazy.”

“Hey!” He shot back upright and clapped his hands over his hair. “Leave my gorgeous scalp alone.”

Already halfway across the room, she paused just long enough to make a face back over her shoulder. “Too sleepy to move, huh?” Then, before he could answer, she opened the door.

The man waiting outside was neither particularly tall nor particularly old. If she had to guess, she would assume that he was roughly the same age as Taro, heavily built, and wearing a thick, neatly trimmed beard. Not someone she remembered seeing last night, and certainly not General Fong.

“You’re the new earthbender?” the man asked.

She nodded a little cautiously. “I am.”

The man bowed. “I’m Hao. General Fong asked if I could get you started with a few basic lessons for the next few days.”

“Oh.” So she hadn’t been forgotten, but still, there was something odd niggling at the back of her mind. If Fong had asked someone to teach her specifically, where did that leave Aang? She shot a somewhat wary look back at Sokka.

“There’s no need to worry,” Hao added hastily. “I’m not a master myself, but General Fong isn’t planning to foist you off on any old earthbender for lessons. Your real master is busy with battle preparations for now, but he’ll be free to start working with you in a week at most.”

“I—no, that’s not what I was—”

“Battle plans?” Sokka interrupted from across the room. Apparently forgetting the fact that he was meant to be tired, he popped to his feet and trotted to join them at the door.

“Well, I suppose that’s not quite the right way to describe it,” Hao amended. “We’re on the coast, and the Fire Nation has been trying to take Bei Haian for decades. Now that the Avatar is here, General Fong wants to be sure that our defenses are still up to the task. We’ve never had a problem before, but now wouldn’t be the time to start.”

“Oh.” Sokka seemed to deflate a little.

“What I was trying to say,” Katara said, giving Sokka a sharp look, “was that I was starting to think that General Fong forgot about me. Aang and I are both supposed to learn earthbending, but I haven’t been able to find him today. Is he already waiting for us or something?”

Hao frowned. “Who, the Avatar?”

It sent unpleasant tingles up and down her spine, but Katara nodded. “Yeah, the Avatar. He was already gone when I woke up, which doesn’t make any sense. Neither of us know any earthbending yet. Shouldn’t we start our training together?”

A shrug. “That would’ve made sense to me, but General Fong never said anything about me working with the Avatar.”

“So he’s not waiting for us to start earthbending lessons together?”

“I don’t think so. As far as I know, nobody would even consider letting me work with the Avatar, even on the basics. Can’t waste any training time when the world could be at stake, you know.” With that, he stepped back from the threshold, motioning for Katara to follow him.

A small bubble of irritation burst, and Katara couldn’t quite manage to muscle her instinctive reply back down. “Well, then that could be a—”

Before she could say the word ‘problem,’ Sokka jogged after her and clapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s kind of weird,” he said, voice much louder than necessary to drown her out. “If Aang’s not in earthbending lessons, then where is he?”

Again, Hao only shrugged. He did seem a bit confused by the sight of the two of them clumsily grappling in the doorway, but apparently wasn’t confused enough to bother looking for an explanation. “I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t be surprised if General Fong wanted to meet with him.”

Katara managed to wriggle her way out of Sokka’s grip, but then exchanged a look with him. Something seemed weird about this. Something that went beyond General Fong’s somewhat excessive fascination with Aang and the fact that he barely seemed to notice Katara’s existence.

“Already?” she asked, incredulous. She tapped her way down the narrow stone staircase after Hao. “It’s barely past sunrise. What’s so important that it can’t wait until later in the day?”

“Beats me,” Hao replied. “I’m not even sure that that’s where he is. I guess you’ll just have to ask when he turns up again.”

She frowned. Unfortunately, Hao probably had a point there. It wouldn’t do much good to go looking for Aang now when she barely knew her way around Bei Haian. Getting lost wouldn’t help anything.

A few seconds later, Sokka pounded down the steps after her. “Slow down, would you? I’m coming too.”

Hao turned back, looking more baffled than ever. “Wait. General Fong only mentioned one new earthbender for me to teach. Are you—”

Sokka scoffed. “Are you kidding me? No way. This just seems more interesting than—” He waved a hand vaguely back in the direction of their rooms. Then, when Hao turned forward again, he leaned in closer to Katara to add, “Plus, I’m starting to think that Fong might be up to something.”

She gave a silent nod of agreement. As far as she knew, it might not be anything remotely sinister. It could all be fine. But there was definitely something that Fong wasn’t telling them, and until she knew what, it was probably wise to stick together as much as possible.

The letter was taunting him. Even now, several days after he’d first started it, the page sat almost blank on the low table by the side of his bed, untouched, with its stark characters seeming to stare at him wherever he went.

I am alive.

That was such a stupid thing to say to her. Of course he was alive. He wouldn’t be trying—and failing—to write her a letter if he weren’t. It was an unnecessary and frankly disturbing way to start a letter to a friend.

But what else could he tell her? He was safe, but that wouldn’t last. He wasn’t sick, but that wasn’t something that she would be worried about, considering the way they’d parted. And he wasn’t happy, but—

Well, that was it. He wasn’t happy. Which meant that the most reassuring thing he could think to start with was already right there on the page.

I am alive.

Where was he supposed to go from there? I am alive, but I’m not sure why. I am alive, but everything is falling apart. I am alive, but I don’t know how long that will last. It was all true, but he couldn’t say it. Not to Katara. Not in a letter. And definitely not when sending her a letter meant that the message would inevitably have to pass through someone else’s hands.

Logically, he knew that he would be better off if he just gave up. If he could just convince himself to burn the letter, it wouldn’t sit there taunting him day after day. He could move on and pretend that he’d never had such a stupid idea in the first place. He was never going to see Katara again, and it wouldn’t do any good to try to convince himself otherwise.

He still hadn’t put the beads back on, after all. If he could manage to set that small memento aside, surely he could do the same with the letter too.

Still, every time that he got close to it, something held him back. For some reason, he just wasn’t ready to give up yet. So the page stayed right where it was, mocking him over and over with those same three words.

I am alive.

From his place by the Pai Sho board at the far side of the room, Uncle kept glancing up in Zuko’s direction, occasionally squinting at the nearly-blank page as though he might be able to make out Zuko’s handwriting from that distance. Typical. It was just like Uncle to pry at every given opportunity.

But when Uncle finally spoke up, he at least made a flimsy attempt at feigning ignorance. “Have you been keeping yourself occupied, Nephew?”

Zuko shrugged. “Not exactly.”

“That’s a shame. Why not?”

“How do you expect me to keep myself occupied, Uncle? I don’t know anyone around here. Even if I did, I’m not stupid enough to try and make friends.” Not in a place like this. Probably never again, if he were smart. Leaning back against the wall, he stared up at the ceiling. “I know we’re leaving in a few days. Can’t we just get it over with already? Then I wouldn’t have to keep myself occupied.”

For once, Uncle didn’t attempt to immediately deflect from the issue. Instead, he paused, and a tile clicked against his game board before he spoke. “I have been hoping to receive news from our next destination before we resume our journey. But it happens that a few of my acquaintances are a bit slow in their correspondence.” Another pause, and Uncle didn’t continue until Zuko gave in and glanced his way. “Three more days. If we have still heard nothing by that time, we will carry on with our travels.”

Three days. Zuko sighed and looked back up at the ceiling again. That was much longer than he really wanted to stay here, but it was at least a concrete end to look forward to. Three more days of crushing boredom wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“So what sort of place are you taking us to this time?” Zuko asked. “Because if you’re trying to drag me off to another fancy resort—”

“Nothing of the kind,” Uncle said. Another Pai Sho tile clicked against the board. “Though I do still believe that you would benefit from some of the luxuries here if you would allow yourself to relax. There is a reason why I have been encouraging you to give places like this a chance for the past three years.”

“Uncle!”

“It is a city. A fair distance inland, and very secure. To the best of my knowledge, not a single firebender has crossed its threshold in the past century.”

Zuko frowned. “Isn’t that going to be a problem when we show up?”

An edge of amusement worked its way into Uncle’s voice. “Now that is the real beauty of the situation. I happen to be good friends with—”

Before he could finish, a series of sharp, brisk footsteps approached down the wooden walkway outside, and almost before the words died on Uncle’s lips, the door slid wide open.

For a second, Zuko couldn’t make out much more than a silhouette in the brightness, and he blinked a few times. It was probably just Mi Cha coming by to gossip with Uncle again, something inane, something normal, and—

“Why, good morning, Brother. Uncle.”

The voice struck him hard, and almost before the words could register, Zuko knew who it belonged to. He shot upright, heart in his throat and his eyes almost wide enough to pop.

Azula—older and taller than he remembered—smirked at him. “It’s been a long time. Almost three years to the day, I think.”

Chapter Text

Katara was more grateful than she expected to find that there was no water whatsoever in the courtyard where Hao took her for her first earthbending lesson. No fountains, no canals, nothing. It wasn’t that she doubted her ability to earthbend when there was water nearby. Her control was steady enough that she could almost certainly hold the water still while she worked on moving a few rocks around. If she concentrated, she wouldn’t give herself away as a waterbender.

But the fact that she didn’t have to try to focus on two elements at once was probably a good thing. She was a lot more likely to actually make some progress on her first day of training this way. And sure, she might still be a bit distracted with mulling over where Aang might have gone so early in the morning, but she was going to be distracted either way. At this point, that was practically inevitable.

“So you’ve never done any earthbending before, then?” Though Hao seemed perfectly fine with the fact that she was a girl determined to learn earthbending, he seemed less certain about the teaching itself.

“No, not really,” Katara answered. “Not deliberately, at least.”

“Well, then—hmm.”

“I can do it,” she added. “Really. I do already know how to fight, it’s just that—there weren’t any earthbending masters around to teach me at home.” Which wasn’t a lie. She just hadn’t known that she would need an earthbending master at all until a few months ago.

Hao frowned. “No, that’s not a problem. Lots of us can’t get into lessons until we’re old enough to fight for the Earth King. Masters don’t come cheap out there.”

“But?” Sokka prompted from his place along the edge of the courtyard.

“But,” Hao said, taking his time to choose his words carefully, “I’m starting to realize just how long it’s been since I had to think about the real basics. And I’m not entirely sure how teaching those things is supposed to work.”

“You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

Hao raised his eyebrows, and Katara shot a dirty look at Sokka.

“What?” he said.

“You’ll encourage him but not me?” she asked.

Sokka shrugged. “Eh. You probably don’t need it.”

“You are so—”

“Oh, come on. You’ve punched firebenders in the face and gotten away with it. I’m sure this will be fine too.” Leaning back, Sokka gestured as though he were shooing her back into the middle of the courtyard. “Let’s go, I want to see some rocks fly.”

Rude. This was supposed to be a lesson for her benefit, not a performance for Sokka. Regardless of the fact that he’d come down here because Fong was acting suspicious, she was a little tempted to tell him to find something better to do. Surely his commentary wouldn’t help anything.

But Hao eventually figured out where he wanted to start, and after he pulled a rock about the size of Momo out of the ground, Sokka quieted down too. Enough so that she almost managed to forget that he was watching.

Earthbending was weird. That was the first thing she realized. It only took a handful of tries to get the rock to move, but getting it to move where and how she wanted after that was significantly more difficult. If she didn’t use enough force, the rock would come to a stop almost instantly. If she moved too slowly, it ground against the other paving stones, leaving sharp grooves carved into the surface. But moving too quickly or with too much force just sent it shooting across the courtyard like it had slipped out of her hand.

It felt a bit like trying to drag a weight through thick, greasy mud. Or maybe like pushing a rock across a long expanse of impossibly slick ice. Or maybe a little of both, depending on exactly how she was getting each maneuver wrong.

But as undeniably frustrating as it was to lose control over and over again, especially when she was just trying to move a single rock, Katara managed to remain relatively focused and level-headed. This was nothing like waterbending, but she’d never expected many similarities. The important thing was that it didn’t seem any more difficult. Just exacting. And exacting in a very different way than what she’d gotten used to. While her waterbending always seemed to just work without much effort, it had taken a great deal of practice to build up any force or accuracy. Earthbending, on the other hand, seemed like it didn’t work at all unless she was relatively precise in both her motions and the amount of force she used.

It would take some getting used to, but she could get used to it. And sure enough, after an hour or two of experimenting, of sliding the rock back and forth across the courtyard, of lifting it off the ground and slowly lowering it again, she started to get a feel for the balance of speed and force she needed to use. It wasn’t much, but Katara was pleased with herself. A little progress was better than nothing.

Hao seemed to think so too. But it seemed that they’d reached the limit of his teaching ability once she figured out how to consistently get the rock to move where she wanted. For what felt like a few minutes, Hao fumbled for another thing to teach her before finally settling with, “Why don’t you try a mooselion stomp next?”

Katara stared at him, still stretching some of the tightness out of her shoulders. “What’s a mooselion stomp?”

“More importantly, what’s a mooselion?” Sokka called from his place at the side of the courtyard. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen one of those before. They sound cool.”

Hao looked from Katara to Sokka and back again. “It’s sort of like—what you have to do is—” Frowning, he paused, then gave a tremendous sigh. “Okay, I don’t actually know how to explain the mooselion stomp. It’s sort of like this.” He pounded one foot on the ground, and a rock on the other side of the courtyard popped out of the paving.

Katara frowned. “That doesn’t make anything clearer.”

“Well, then I guess I’m out of ideas for today. I’ll have to talk with some of the others tonight to work out what else I can actually teach you until the masters have time again.”

Sokka hopped to his feet. “Aw, don’t beat yourself up too much, man. I think you did some pretty good teaching there.” He tossed an arm around Katara’s shoulders. “I’ll look forward to seeing more of it tomorrow.”

Shooting him a suspicious look, she wriggled out from under his arm. “You’re going to watch my lessons again?”

“Why not? I don’t have anything better to do here.”

As Sokka started back up the steps toward their rooms in the barracks, Katara said a quick thanks to Hao before jogging after him. She jabbed Sokka in the ribs as soon as she caught up again. “You’re being weird, Sokka.”

He yelped in protest and spun sideways to knock her hand away from his ribs. “Hey! No poking. That’s not cool.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not weird. I’m never weird.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm. I’m sure if you keep telling yourself that, it’ll come true someday.” Another poke. “You’re trying way too hard to act cheerful. Why? You’re normally a huge grump, and you know it.”

He let out a prolonged groan, but rather than arguing, he glanced back over his shoulder before leaning in conspiratorially. “We both know that there’s something weird about this place. I’m just trying to make sure that we can stick together as much as possible until we figure out what’s going on.”

“So naturally, you had to act completely different than normal, then.”

“Not completely different. I’m a nice guy. Being nice to your teacher isn’t weird.”

Katara rolled her eyes. That was definitely not the only weird thing he’d done, but she couldn’t see much point in arguing. Instead, she stretched out her arms again and glanced over the side of the staircase at the courtyard below. The shadows below them were remarkably shallow, and she guessed that it must be close to noon. Early enough in the day that a trip on Appa could take them relatively far and still bring them back before dinner.

She turned forward again. “I’ve been thinking a little, and—”

“Sounds dangerous.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “And we still have plenty of free time today. Since we don’t know where Aang is, maybe you and I could take Appa out for a little flight this afternoon and just look—”

Sokka stopped right there in the middle of the staircase. “Are you kidding me? You want to go look for Red already?”

Her jaw tightened a little. “I didn’t realize we were calling him that again, but yes. He has to be relatively close.” Eyes fixed forward, she kept marching up the steps. “If you don’t want to come with me, fine. I can look for him myself.”

“Uh-uh. Oh, no you don’t.” His footsteps pounded up the last few stairs behind her, and a hand hooked around her elbow. “What do you think you’re going to do if you find him? Stash him under your bunk? We don’t exactly have a lot of places to hide a whole person here.”

“We’ll figure something out,” she snapped, yanking free from his grasp. She glanced around the landing they’d arrived on to be certain that they were still alone. “Pakku told me that wherever he is, he’s not going to be safe there for long. He should be here with us instead. Between all of us, we can figure out a way to keep everyone safe.”

“Can we?” Sokka said doubtfully. “We don’t even know how much we can trust Fong yet. I’m not sure how bringing Red into the situation could possibly help.”

“Well, we can’t leave him out there.”

“I’m not saying that we have to! Just—” Sokka gave a prolonged sigh and ran a hand down the side of his face. “Just give it a few days, okay? We decided to give Fong a week, so let’s just do the same thing with Red, okay? When we’re done with our week here, either we’ll have made up our minds to stay and we can just ask for a day off from your lessons, or we’ll be leaving anyway and a little detour won’t matter.”

Katara scowled and crossed her arms. “And what if it takes longer than that? Are you going to make a big deal about disrupting your precious plan if we have to search for a few days?”

An audible scoff. “Oh, come on. It won’t take that long to get to—”

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed Sokka’s arm. “To where? Do you know where he is? What did Pakku tell you?”

For an instant, he looked startled, and he let out a nervous laugh. “What? Nothing. He didn’t say anything at all.”

“Sokka!”

“I don’t—oh, hey! Is that Aang? Aang, where the heck have you been all day?” He wriggled his way out of Katara’s grasp and jogged to the far end of the corridor.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Of course. Of course Pakku would have thought that she was too irresponsible to deal with knowing where Zuko had gone. But of course that mistrust wouldn’t extend to Sokka. That part didn’t surprise her in the least. For all the pride Pakku had taken in her bending abilities, he clearly hadn’t thought much of her as a person.

But the fact that Sokka obviously knew something he wasn’t willing to tell her stung. They weren’t supposed to lie to each other like this.

Unfortunately, Aang had actually appeared at the end of the corridor, and he gave both of them a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, well—General Fong wanted to meet with me right away this morning. I tried to wake you up to tell you, but you sleep like a rock and Fong was in a hurry.”

“I sort of figured,” Sokka said. “But what did he want?”

“The Avatar State. I guess he thinks if I can learn to control that, then I won’t have to worry about learning earthbending right away. He had me practicing a bunch of that stuff all morning.”

Though the sting in the middle of her chest hadn’t subsided, that was worrisome enough to make her push the discomfort and doubt away for a minute. Katara hurried over to join the boys. “The Avatar State? That sounds—”

“Like not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Sokka interrupted. “I mean, no offense buddy, but when you go into the Avatar State, it’s a lot scarier than when—you know.” He tilted his head in Katara’s direction. “We’ve gotta get that sorted out one way or another if we don’t want you blowing things up all over the place.”

Aang frowned. “Yeah, but—I don’t know. It was a little weird. It seems like all Fong really wants is for me to figure out how to get into the Avatar State. I told him what happened the last couple of times I did it, and he just said that I shouldn’t worry about that.”

The unpleasant feeling in her middle shifted, and despite herself, Katara had to let Zuko fall to the back of her mind. “He doesn’t want you to worry about nearly blowing a bunch of people off the top of a mountain?”

“That’s what I said! But Fong just said that we’re not on a mountain, and his soldiers can fix anything that I might accidentally break.”

Sokka made a face. “Yeah, and that sounds like excellent planning on his part. People being so easily fixable with earthbending and all.”

“Not to mention the fact that there’s almost no way the Avatar State wouldn’t give me away too,” Katara added in a hiss. “Every time he does it, I get pulled in too. That’s not going to be good for any of us.”

“I think,” Sokka said, shooting a furtive glance around the corridor, “that we need to do some serious planning before this goes any farther. And this might not be the best place for that.”

Katara straightened a little. She could certainly think of one good way to get out of earshot to do some planning.

Sokka glared at her as though he could read her exact thoughts. “We don’t have time for a trip on Appa. But there are a few shops down by the harbor, and Aang and I could really use some less conspicuous clothes. We’re going to shop and strategize at the same time.”

 “Would you care for a cup of tea, Princess Azula?” Though the words were as steady and polite as anyone could ask for, there was an undeniable coldness in Uncle’s tone.

Zuko wished that he could manage even a scrap of that same cold composure. His pulse still refused to slow, and it took all his will to keep from openly staring out the window, searching for any guards Azula might have brought along with her, for any hint of a clear escape route.

Azula’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “How do you manage it, Uncle? It’s been three years, and you’ve hardly changed at all.” Her eyes swept quickly up and down. “A bit fatter, I suppose. After all this time, I thought you would have gotten bored with the indolence.”

“After all this time, I have found that appearances are a trivial and unrewarding pursuit,” Uncle replied, voice low. “If you would care for a cup of tea, perhaps we could get reacquainted and I could explain some of the more interesting revelations I have come across in the past three years.”

Her sneer shifted seamlessly into a smirk. “You can’t possibly believe that I came all this way to listen to your philosophizing, Uncle. Have a little sense.”

Zuko felt his spine stiffen as Azula turned her focus on him. Though she only came up to the level of his nose, there was something about her posture that made her seem significantly taller than that. Something in the way she held herself and the languid way she looked at both him and Uncle set Zuko on edge. Even more so than he remembered from before his banishment.

“What do you want, Azula?” he demanded, voice tight as he fought with all he had to hold his gaze steady.

“Really, Zuzu, your manners are atrocious now. You’ve really been letting yourself go.” She paused long enough to study her sharp, clawlike fingernails before glancing up at Zuko again. “You could say hello to me. Or tell me how much you’ve missed your dearest little sister. Or maybe you could consider thanking me for going so far out of my way to visit you when I haven’t gotten so much as a letter in more than two years.”

There was an odd sensation in the middle of his chest, like strings pulled taut between his ribs being strummed by unseen hands. “I never wrote to you,” he said, jaw tight. “You sent me one letter, and you’d have to be insane to think that I’d want to write back after that.”

Azula dropped her jaw in an expression of mock offense. “I’m hurt, Brother. And this is precisely what I mean. You really don’t have any manners at all.” She flicked back one of the locks of hair that hung by the side of her face and shot a look at Uncle. “What have you been teaching my poor Zuzu, Uncle? I always thought that you concerned yourself with things like decorum.”

This was far, far too familiar. All of the insinuations, all the endless circling around the point, all the needling sent Zuko hurtling back to before his banishment, back to the palace and to Father. He remembered this uneasiness in the pit of his stomach almost like it had never left.

But it had left. For a while there, mostly back at the North Pole, he’d managed to escape the awful feeling that usually came with conversation. For a while, he’d been lucky enough to spend all his time with people who didn’t want to trick or deceive him.

Which made the contrast now all the more glaring. Zuko exhaled, clenching his hands into fists. “You haven’t answered my question,” he pressed. “Why are you here? How did you find us?”

“Now that isn’t fair. You don’t get to pile on more questions just because I haven’t answered the first one yet.” But the directness seemed to work, and after a moment, Azula relented just the smallest bit. “If you must know, Father received word that you survived that messy business at the North Pole just a few days ago. You can’t imagine how relieved we were to hear that you were alive and well after that terrible accident with your ship a few months ago.”

She was right about one thing. Zuko couldn’t imagine either Azula or Father being relieved by news of his survival. Not after the explosion. Not after what Zhao had said back at the North Pole. The Fire Lord gave me a task, and I intend to complete it. As untrustworthy as Zhao was, there was no space left for doubt in Zuko’s mind when it came to who had ordered his death.

“So what?” he asked. “I survived. That doesn’t explain why Father would want you to come looking for me.”

Azula waved a dismissive hand and advanced farther into the room, cutting an arc around Zuko. “Must we get bogged down in so many details so soon after we’ve reunited? Really Zuzu, I always took you for the sentimental type. I thought you would enjoy the opportunity to share a bit of quiet time and get reacquainted before we go further.” She paused by a painting of blossoming cherry-apple trees along the wall and clasped her hands behind her back. “Agni, this place is tacky.”

Zuko refused to answer. Tacky or not, this place was safer for him than most of the rest of the world. Or it had been up until this morning. Now it wasn’t much better than barging straight into a heavily guarded fortress.

Azula resumed her slow, meandering walk until she’d circled clear around to Zuko’s right side. “Fine,” she said lightly. “I can see that you need a bit of time to think things over before you’ll be ready to have a civil conversation about this. I’m in no hurry. And I certainly wouldn’t want to get into too many specifics when you’re so clearly overwhelmed already.”

“I’m not—”

“There’s no need to deceive yourself, dear brother. Take your time.” Azula took a small step back. “As a matter of fact, I believe that Li and Lo have secured the hut just three doors down from here. Meet me there tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Surely you’ll be able to find your manners by then.” With that, she headed back for the door, pausing just long enough to shoot another look back over her shoulder. “And you may as well make yourself presentable in the meantime, Zuzu. Your hair is disgraceful.”

The instant that Azula was gone, Uncle leapt to his feet and padded silently toward the door and peered out through a small crack at the edge. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back again, shaking his head.

“She has come prepared,” Uncle said, just barely over a whisper. “I count at least five guards just outside.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “How did she find us, Uncle? Is your friend sending news back to the Fire Nation?”

“No. Madame Mi Cha is exceptionally trustworthy.” Uncle caught the glare from Zuko and paused. “I assure you, Nephew, I would not have brought us here if I did not have complete confidence in her secrecy. She did mention that a few among her staff may have been less pleased to meet us, however—”

“Well, that’s great. Your friend is trustworthy, but she let all of her friends sell us out.”

Uncle’s expression was stony. “However,” he resumed, “we have not been at Chuanxi long enough for word to reach the Fire Nation from here and bring an expedition all the way back. She must have begun her search as soon as news of the battle reached the palace.”

Looking away, Zuko ground at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Uncle probably had a point. Azula had probably been halfway to the Earth Kingdom by the time that he and Uncle arrived here. She’d probably guessed at their destination based on the knowledge that they would be fleeing the North Pole, and if anyone had sold them out, it had probably just hastened her search. But that didn’t make him feel much better. They should have been safe here for more than a handful of days.

“What would you like us to do?” Uncle asked, coming closer so that he could lower his voice even further. “If you would like to leave Chuanxi, I believe it would be possible to escape after dark.”

A faint scoff burst out of him. “Where would we go? Off to stay with another one of your friends?”

“Most likely, yes. The next place I had hoped to visit is well outside of Azula’s reach.”

Slowly, Zuko shook his head. As tempting as it was to flee, he couldn’t think about running off now. Not when Azula had found them so easily. Not when fleeing would only mean that Azula would hunt them down again. They couldn’t stay here, but Zuko couldn’t leave until he knew for certain that there was at least a fighting chance of keeping out of her reach.

“No,” he said. “I have to at least find out why she’s here.”

“Prince Zuko,” Uncle said, a warning edge to his voice.

A slight scowl crossed his face. What did Uncle think he was going to do? Trust Azula? Zuko wasn’t that stupid.

He didn’t know how well he would be able to navigate a conversation with Azula. He didn’t know whether he would be able to finagle the truth out of her, or even if he would recognize the truth if it came in her voice. But Zuko did know that he was at a disadvantage. And he knew that Azula knew it as well.

If he was extremely careful, he might be able to lull Azula into believing that he was still as naïve as he had been as a child. He might be able to get her to make a few small admissions—why she’d come looking for him, how she’d learned where he was, what Father had to do with all of this—before he made his retreat and decided where to go next. If he could manage that much, he would at least know what he was up against. Whether it even paid to keep fighting.

“I know what I’m doing, Uncle,” he said a bit harshly. Then, when Uncle gave a small, uncertain nod, Zuko pushed past him to the basin and mirror along the wall.

“What are you doing, Prince Zuko?”

It took a moment to steel himself before he took up the razor from the shelf and glanced at himself in the mirror. Azula wanted him to fix his hair. She wasn’t the first. He could remember, almost word-for-word, all the other times people had told him that his hair was ridiculous. All the times he’d felt guilty or uncomfortable for allowing the rest of his scalp to fill back in with hair. He’d gotten used to the way it was now, but looking at his own reflection for the first time in ages, all the echoes in the back of his mind began to come together, to make sense. They were all right. He had to do something about his hair.

If it’s a punishment to keep your hair like this—you’re already banished. Isn’t that enough?

Slowly, deliberately, Zuko reached upward and gripped his ponytail firmly around the middle. Then, with a single, fluid motion, he sliced clear through its base.

With a slow exhalation, he set the razor back down and allowed the hair, still bound in a tight bundle, to drop into the basin. There. For just another instant, he met his own gaze in the mirror. Fixed or not, it was finally done.

Chapter Text

“Ah. I suppose that I do see the reason for your concern. Perhaps I could have been clearer about my plans when you first arrived.”

Somewhat surprisingly, General Fong had invited all three of them into the large meeting room at the highest point of the fortress almost as soon as they asked to speak with him in the morning. As far as Katara was concerned, that was a step in the right direction. Not a large step, and certainly not enough to push her past her mistrust, but a step nonetheless.

“What exactly are those plans?” she asked. “The Avatar State can be dangerous. We’ve all seen what happens when it takes over, and playing with that much power really isn’t a good idea.”

Fong nodded. “I understand. And that is precisely why I hope to train the Avatar to control it. The Avatar State is a potent tool, and it would be absurd to carry on fighting without at least exploring the possibilities at hand.”

“Exploring the possibilities sounds like a good idea for like—a new weapon or something,” Sokka said. “Not quite as much for mystical, glowy-person nonsense.”

“Is there a difference?” Fong spoke calmly enough that it seemed clear he wasn’t expecting a response. “Earthbending has been our strongest weapon for much longer than a century. The Fire Nation would say the same of its bending, and the Water Tribes would certainly agree as well. What is the Avatar State but a blending of all four nations’ most potent weapons embodied in a single person?”

Katara’s hands tightened into fists, and she hoped that Fong wouldn’t notice. “It’s all of the past Avatars reaching inside the new one and taking control. You can’t call the Avatar State a weapon when there’s no way to control it. And you can’t plan on using it in battle if you don’t know how it works.”

There was a flash of something like suspicion in Fong’s eyes, but he shook it off almost as quickly as it had appeared. “There are ways to control the Avatar State. It has been done before, and it will be done again. That is the goal we are working toward. Once we discover how to trigger the Avatar State, we will work to understand and control it.”

“But that’s exactly the problem!” she snapped. “We don’t know how to control the Avatar State yet. If you trigger it now, you might not get a chance to figure that out before a lot of innocent people get hurt.”

“Exactly!” If not for the fact that they were all sitting in a semicircle facing Fong, Aang probably would have been bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can’t even remember what happened when I come out of the Avatar State. I definitely can’t control what I do while I’m still in it. Believe me, I’ve seen what it looks like after I’m done, and there’s no way I’d do any of that if I could control myself in the Avatar State.”

Slowly, Fong stroked his beard. “I see. Perhaps it is a more delicate situation than I thought at first.”

It took a bit more restraint than Katara anticipated at first, but she managed not to roll her eyes. It shouldn’t have taken so long for a grown man to see sense and start listening to them, but he was listening now. The last thing she needed was to spoil that by scoffing and calling him an idiot.

“But consider what a valuable opportunity this could be,” Fong added after just a moment had passed. “The Fire Nation has just faced a grievous loss at the North Pole. This is the weakest position they have held in quite some time, and if we strike quickly, there is every chance that we could regain lost territory. With a tool as powerful as the Avatar State, we may drive them from our shores completely or even bring the war to a conclusive end at last.”

Brilliant. Maybe she should have called him an idiot after all.

“Or maybe you’ll get Aang into the Avatar State and he’ll just blow up all of your other weapons and ships,” she retorted. “I don’t know about you, but that isn’t something I would be willing to gamble over. If you really want to strike back at the Fire Nation while they’re busy dealing with losing the battle at the North Pole, then you don’t have time to sit around waiting for us to figure out the Avatar State either.”

Fong frowned, narrowing his eyes at her ever so slightly. Like there was something suspicious in the way she kept leaping back into the conversation when Aang wouldn’t say half as much in his own defense. Maybe it was suspicious. She couldn’t really tell, but it was certainly too late to back down and let the boys dominate the conversation now. She squared her shoulders. Suspicious or not, she hadn’t said anything that could come even close to giving away her real identity.

“I’m not saying that I won’t help fight,” Aang burst out with eventually. “I know we have to end the war. I get that, and I know it’s my job to help. I just want to make sure that I won’t make things worse by accident.”

“I see.” Fong leaned forward, resting one elbow on his knee. “Then what can I do to make you feel comfortable with continuing our efforts here?”

Nothing, as far as Katara was concerned. Though Fong’s tone was still even and calm, there was something she couldn’t trust in his expression. A coldness, a kind of steady calculation  that put her on edge. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she could tell that much. She wanted to tell Fong that if Aang couldn’t join her in earthbending lessons today, they would be leaving Bei Haian first thing tomorrow to find a teacher who would actually help them with what they needed to learn.

But Aang managed a bit more restraint than she could find. “It would probably help if I could talk to someone who knows more about the Avatars. I mean—no offense, but the guy you had me meet with yesterday really didn’t seem to know what he was talking about. Throwing mud at me probably isn’t the right way to control the Avatar State.”

Katara shot a look in his direction just in time to see Sokka on the opposite side, raising both eyebrows so high that they nearly touched his hairline. Aang hadn’t mentioned that part last night.

“I suppose you may be right,” Fong admitted. “There are not many scholars in this part of the Earth Kingdom, but with enough time, we may be able to locate one or two who know more about the Avatar State.”

“Great!” Katara said. “So let’s get them here and then we can talk. Until then, Aang can come to earthbending lessons with me the way we planned in the first place.”

Aang positively beamed at her. “Yeah! I really like that idea. I want to go to training with Katara!”

Okay, maybe Aang was a little too excited about earthbending lessons. Hao probably would be a lot more lenient about allowing earthbending games than Pakku had been about waterbending games, but they wouldn’t be working with Hao for very long, and Katara wasn’t sure how much she would enjoy Aang’s games. When she’d finally given in and played a few of them at the North Pole, they hadn’t held her interest for very long at all. She couldn’t imagine that his earthbending games would turn out much better.

“It will cause a significant delay,” Fong added. “I imagine that finding a scholar with relevant expertise could take a month or longer.”

Katara shrugged. “I guess that’s all the more reason to start looking now, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.” With a sigh so deep that his shoulders seemed to deflate, Fong rubbed his beard again, then straightened back up. “Very well. Avatar Aang may join you in earthbending lessons with Hao tomorrow morning. I expect that your regular masters will be available to start working with the two of you not long after that.”

Katara gave a small, satisfied nod. She wasn’t sure why Fong wanted them to wait until tomorrow, but she certainly wouldn’t complain about the free time. She caught a nod from Sokka and a grin from Aang, so when Fong dismissed the three of them, she didn’t hesitate. It was still early in the day—probably still a few hours before noon, and Sokka had gotten his shopping trip yesterday. Whatever Fong’s reasoning was, if she had a day without any earthbending lessons to worry about, she was going to talk the boys into a search along the coastline one way or another.

She’d made it more than halfway to the door with Sokka by her side before she thought to glance back to be sure that Aang was following them.

That, it seemed, was a mistake. Almost as soon as she started to turn her head, a pair of big hands closed around her shoulders and pushed her on toward the door. With a yelp, she wriggled and squirmed in a futile effort to break out of the soldier’s grasp.

“Hey!” Sokka shouted on her other side. “Hey! What are you doing? I have legs, you know. I can walk all by myself, and I don’t think—”

Before he could get any farther, before Katara could manage to wrench her shoulders free, they were propelled out into the sunlight, and both of the soldiers released them. While Katara was still glaring daggers at the pair of earthbenders and craning her neck to figure out where exactly Aang was, Sokka made a show of brushing himself off.

“You could have just asked us to leave, you know. This is a new shirt. You could’ve ruined it.”

The soldiers didn’t give any response aside from a frown before they both took a step back and slammed the door shut, leaving Aang still inside.

Sokka shot a look back at her. “Well, this is fantastic. What do we do now?”

Zuko couldn’t be certain what to expect when he went to meet Azula the next morning. He’d never been able to anticipate her next moves, not when they were both children at the palace, not when she’d written him that single letter during his banishment, not even when she’d appeared yesterday.

But today, for possibly the first time in either of their lives, Azula didn’t seem to know what to make of him either. Somehow, it was both gratifying and unsettling. Zuko was used to being at a disadvantage. He didn’t really know what to do with himself now that he’d succeeded in throwing Azula ever so slightly off balance.

It was entirely down to the state of his hair, he knew that much. Azula had been expecting him to relent, to shave the rest of his scalp bare but leave the plume in the center untouched. She’d wanted him to put his shame back on full display, to accept and embrace the fact that he was an outcast, but he’d refused. Katara was right. If he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done three years ago, there was no use in pretending anymore.

And really, it was only natural that Azula would be shocked. Even Uncle hadn’t been able to conceal his dismay over Zuko’s new haircut—though Uncle seemed more concerned by the fact that Zuko wouldn’t let him trim the remnants of his ponytail even than with the fact that Zuko had cut it in the first place—so of course the defiance would come as a surprise to Azula too. Taking her off guard certainly hadn’t been Zuko’s main intention, but he could do with every small advantage he could find.

For the first few minutes, Azula pretended not to stare. In turn, Zuko pretended not to notice her staring. He could manage that much. People were always staring at him anyway. As calmly as he could manage, he waited as Azula poured herself a cup of tea and made a great show of downing almost half of it in tiny, delicate sips.

Much to his surprise, her composure cracked first. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Azula finally allowed her feigned composure to drop, and she set her cup down with such force that the remaining tea splashed well above the rim. “What on earth were you thinking, Zuzu?”

Though the teacup slamming against the table was enough to make him flinch, he stared back at her, stony-faced. “You might have to be more specific than that.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. We both know that you’ve never been especially bright, but even you should have known better.” There was a pause as she picked her teacup back up, wiped the droplets from the table, and resumed her composure. “You look disgraceful.”

Zuko did his best to keep his expression from shifting. “You said that yesterday. I thought you wanted me to do something about my hair.”

“I did, but you couldn’t possibly believe that this was what I wanted.”

He gave a slight shrug. “Then maybe you should have been more specific.”

At that, Azula’s eyes flashed with an expression he couldn’t quite recognize, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. Lips slightly pursed, she took a dainty sip of her tea. “Thank you, Zuzu. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

Zuko set his jaw. He didn’t like this. Though small glimmers of rage broke through her façade every so often, Azula was maintaining her composure a little too well. It was unnerving. Usually when people were angry with him, Zuko could see it right there on the surface. With Azula, it was hard to even guess what else might be hiding in the depths.

“Why are you here?” he asked, holding his voice steady. He wasn’t good at it, but if Azula was going to mask her emotions so thoroughly, he couldn’t see any other options. He had to do the same.

Another slow, deliberate sip. “Looking for you, obviously.”

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to see my dear brother again?”

“Coming from you, it is. Why?”

“Just like I said yesterday. Your manners really have gotten much worse in the past three years, Zuzu.”

He could feel both his voice and his temper beginning to rise. Somehow, the fact that he could almost see the threads she was trying to weave around him, to wrap tight enough that he would eventually be pinned in place, just made it all worse. He knew what she was doing. He ought to be able to say it, to cut through all the meandering nonsense.

Instead, the best he could manage was a sharper, more abrupt question. “Who told you to look for me?”

Azula smirked, but rather than answering immediately, she set her teacup back down and spent several long seconds aligning it perfectly in a row with the unused cups beside it. Then, when Zuko was ready to burst, she glanced up at him without moving her head. “Nobody told me to come looking for you. It wasn’t an order.” Another pause. “But if you must know, Father did encourage the idea quite strongly.”

His hands clenched into fists. Of course Father had. Zuko had survived an attempt on his life, and he’d gone on to commit treason. Probably more than once, not that he was interested in counting every little choice that might look like treason in the right light. If Father had wanted him dead before, Zuko didn’t want to think about how much worse things could possibly be now.

“Why did Father want you to look for me?”

Azula smirked. “I’ve asked myself the same thing several times now. It seems like a terrible waste of time. But I imagine that he probably has his reasons. And whatever they are, I certainly trust him. Don’t you?”

“How did you find me?” he asked, voice tight. “How did you even know I was alive? After—after my ship went down, everyone thought I was dead.”

Azula waved a dismissive hand. “The details are too dull to bother with. Informants and such. Some old crewman of yours spotted you at the North Pole and brought the news back to the palace, and then I assume some peasants here started spreading rumors when you turned up. Information travels quickly.”

For the first time since her arrival, Zuko felt something akin to relief. His crew had survived. Or at least some of them had. That was better than he expected.

He met Azula’s eyes for an instant. “Which one of my crewmen?”

She scoffed. “You can’t honestly believe that I would bother with learning their names.”

Zuko just stared. He couldn’t believe that Azula would care about his crewmen’s names, but the idea that she wouldn’t at least know their names was even less believable. Even as a child, she’d had a knack for acquiring information and tucking it all away in case even a scrap of it became useful someday in the future.

Sure enough, a few moments later, she relented and said, “A lieutenant and some other person—Tura or something.”

“Taro.”

“That may have been it. In any case, those two were quite insistent that you’d done something useful at the North Pole and that Father and I ought to at least look into matters so that we could be certain that you were safe. They said something about how Admiral Zhao’s plan was horribly flawed from the start, and how none of them would have been likely to survive without your intervention.” A pause, and Azula leaned ever so slightly forward. “Do you hear me, Zuzu? They called you a hero.”

He barely managed to keep himself from shaking his head. Neither Taro nor Jee would have said any such thing about him. They might have credited him for the warning about Koh, and they might have gone so far as to say that Zuko was the only reason they’d been able to escape the North Pole, but Zuko wasn’t a hero, and his crew wouldn’t have called him that.

Besides, from Azula’s perspective, he was probably the farthest possible thing from it.

“And you believe that?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t I?” Her eyes bored into him, steely and cold. “You are my brother, Zuzu. Sooner or later, you were bound to do something right.”

Zuko shrugged. “Force of habit. No one ever tells me that I did anything right, much less—that.” Except for the friends he’d left behind. They hadn’t called him a hero, but none of them were ever shy about offering thanks and encouragement.

“Obviously,” Azula answered easily. “You almost never do anything right. No one is going to lie about that to spare your feelings.”

The barb didn’t strike quite as deeply as Azula probably intended, but there was still a pang in his chest. This was familiar. Too familiar.

“So now doing one thing right is enough to get Father’s attention?” Zuko said, voice flat. “That’s a change.”

“Mmm. That was the bargain all along, Zuzu. All you had to do was find the Avatar. That’s only one thing.” Leaning forward, she rested her elbow on the table, then propped her chin in her hand. “I guess you finally stumbled into something else important enough for him to reconsider the terms of your banishment.”

His breath caught, and his heart skipped. A few months ago, that was all he wanted to hear. A few months ago, he would have dropped everything and turned his ship toward the west at the first suggestion that Father might be reconsidering. But now—things were different now, but the instinct was still there. Even memories of the explosion, of Zhao promising to fulfill Father’s orders weren’t enough to completely drown out the echoes of homesickness. He could still feel that tense pulling sensation in the middle of his chest.

Azula’s mouth twitched upward at the corner. “Oh, that’s right. Did I forget to mention that Father wants you to come home? How silly of me.”

“I—I don’t—” Hands and jaw clenched, he had to cut himself off for a moment to regain control over his voice. He shouldn’t be too shocked. This had always been a possibility. Probably the most likely one too—if Father had even an inkling of all the things Zuko had gotten up to since the explosion, he would want Zuko brought home as a prisoner. And if that was the case, of course Azula would try to lure him in with empty promises. “Why now?”

“I’ve told you already, Zuzu. I don’t know exactly what Father has in mind. His reasons are his own.” She straightened just far enough to inspect her fingernails again. “If you’d like me to guess, though, I suspect that the stories from the North Pole piqued his curiosity.”

He stiffened involuntarily.

A smile crept across her face. “Something wrong, Brother?”

It took an immense effort to steady his expression. “No. Of course not.”

Her smile widened just a fraction. “Really, Zuzu, you don’t have anything to worry about. Father has simply been far too busy to keep up with all the news coming into the Fire Nation for quite some time now. All of the messages about your—adventures came to me directly. I only passed on the parts he really needed to hear.”

That wasn’t reassuring. Zuko gave her his best attempt at an unwavering stare.

“The way I see it,” Azula resumed, “You were never going to regain your honor or reputation out at sea like that. Hunting the Avatar is all well and good, but it hardly suits you to be out in public where people can see how you blunder about. You would be much better off if you would come home where you can break yourself of some of those nasty habits you’ve picked up. And I could hardly make that happen if I threw you to the komodo rhinos every time a little unflattering news made it back to the palace.”

“You really expect me to believe that you’ve been making me look good to Father for the past three years?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? With Father’s blessing, I might add. He hardly would have agreed to this if he thought you were still the same bumbling idiot as when you left.” She took her time topping off her cup of tea. “You don’t have to trust me if you don’t want to. But Father does want you to come home, and I would like to keep everything as pleasant as possible for all of us. So I’ll offer you a bargain. If you come back to the Fire Nation with me, you can have the whole length of the voyage to work on forgetting the past three years. And then, assuming that you can remember your manners well enough to do some credit to the royal family by the time that we arrive, I’ll make sure that Father never hears about your more unsavory choices.”

His pulse started to rise along with his temper. That wasn’t a bargain, it was blackmail. And pretty weak blackmail at that. Even if Azula knew everything—which seemed nearly impossible—the threat of Father finding out wasn’t exactly a compelling argument for returning home. Father had tried to have him killed before. If he went back now, he was almost positive that Father wouldn’t give up until Zuko was dead. At least if he stayed out here, Zuko could try to run.

“What ‘unsavory choices’ would you tell him about?” Zuko asked. This time, it didn’t take as much effort to hold his tone steady. Most of the bits that Father would actually disapprove of had come after the explosion. After his crew already thought was dead.

“Oh, believe me, there’s plenty to choose from. The people you’ve been associating with, the souvenirs you’ve been collecting—”

His breath caught in his throat. “Souvenirs?”

She let out an affected laugh, though her gaze remained as cold, as still as ever. “Really, Zuzu, you can’t think that I would ask to meet you if I were unprepared. By now, you should know better than to let your guard down.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You and Uncle left that little shack of yours unattended for quite a long time last night. Can you really blame me for taking the liberty of searching it?”

Zuko recoiled back from her, pulse roaring in his ears. “What did you—”

Azula smirked. “You’ve become a bit of a collector since you left home, haven’t you? All those silly things you’ve gathered up—but I think my favorite was that shiny little trinket you were keeping right on top of all your clothes. Such a small thing, but I really did get the sense that it might be important to you.”

Zuko shoved back from the table with such force that it tipped away from him ever so slightly before crashing back to the ground. He didn’t care. His heart sat in his throat, and it was difficult to breathe.

“Manners, Brother. You can’t just—”

Zuko didn’t listen. He scrambled to his feet and was nearly out the door before Azula shouted after him again.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours, Zuzu. Make your decision quickly, or I’ll make it for you.”

Though he heard her, the words barely registered over the roar of his pulse. Zuko sprinted past the guards who stood by either side of Azula’s hut, then down the wooden walkway to the one he shared with Uncle. Though could feel eyes on his back as he ran, he couldn’t stop if he wanted to.

Breathing hard, vision dancing with dark spots, Zuko crashed through the door and half-skidded on his knees to the trunk.

Azula was lying. She had to be lying.

 He ripped things from the trunk, one at a time, tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder as he dug toward the bottom. Then, when his hand scraped uselessly against the bottom of the trunk, closing on nothing, Zuko half expected his heart to stop.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

Katara’s beads were gone.

Chapter Text

“So the way I see it,” Sokka said, sprawled on his back on a bench at the far end of the courtyard, “we’ve only really got two options here. Unless—”

Katara raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless what?”

“Unless you’re willing to reconsider my plan to break back into Fong’s meeting room to grab Aang.” Still lying idly on his back, he tossed his boomerang up in the air.

“That isn’t a plan! All you said was ‘maybe we could break the door down.’ As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t count as a plan unless you have some idea how these things are going to happen.”

“Oh, come on, Katara. You’re an earthbender now. I’m pretty sure you can figure out how to break down a door.”

Glaring, she sent a fist-sized rock skittering across the courtyard in his direction. “Yeah, that sounds like a really good idea, Sokka. Let’s ignore the fact that I’ve had one lesson, and all of Fong’s men are really experienced earthbenders, shall we?”

With an exaggerated groan, he sat up. “I’m not saying that you have to fight them all with earthbending. If you could just get us back in there, we’ve got other options.” He made an exaggerated swooping motion with one hand in what he apparently thought was a near enough approximation of waterbending.

Katara crossed her arms and shook her head. “Not happening.” Then, allowing her voice to drop in case any of Fong’s men were nearby, she added, “There’s not enough water up there. I’m not sure I could even take on one person with that little.”

“Ugh. Party pooper.” Sokka flopped onto his back again.

“What are our other choices?”

He rolled his head to one side, then the other, apparently checking for eavesdroppers too. “Either we can take our chances here and bargain with Fong—you know, tell him the whole truth in exchange for him laying off of the whole Avatar State thing—”

“I hate it. No, I’m not doing that.”

“Or,” Sokka resumed, “we could also get out of here and find some other teacher for you two. There has to be someone better out there than this nutcase.”

Frowning, she pulled the rock back toward herself and began pushing it around in a small circle over the paving stones. She couldn’t argue with his reasoning. But the trouble was that finding another teacher could be difficult. Finding one they could trust might be nearly impossible. And looking for another earthbending teacher could quite possibly get in the way of the search that Katara really cared about.

“Where would we even start?” she asked, voice small. “The Earth Kingdom is huge. I’m sure there are plenty of masters, but finding one we can actually work with could be hard.”

He looked at her like she’d sprouted an extra nose. “You’re joking, right?”

“What?”

“Omashu? King Crazy-Pants? Doesn’t he count?”

“You think he’s trustworthy enough to teach us?”

Sokka shrugged. “He at least knows what he’s doing. Plus he and Aang go way back, and he knows who you are too. There are worse places we could go. Including right where we’re at, honestly.” Another furtive glance around the courtyard to check for nearby guards. “And I’m almost positive that Bumi is friends with Red’s uncle. How else would he have known who you are? And throw Pakku into the mix, and—” He threw his arms out to both sides. “It’s like a whole secret society of crazy old people.”

Katara’s eyebrows shot up. “A secret society?”

“Hey.” He pointed his boomerang at her. “I know what I’m talking about. I’m not crazy.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, not at all. Clearly secret societies are the only possible explanation for a few old guys writing letters to each other.”

“They were up to some shady shit and you know it. They weren’t just some game club for old farts.”

“Or maybe they’re just shady people. I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can believe that Pakku would be involved in a secret society. That would mean that other people would have to work with him.” She checked her stance and tried her best to lift the rock up off of the ground.

“The alternative is that he went out and made friends on his own,” Sokka pointed out. “Tell me what’s more likely, Pakku getting involved in some weird group that keeps him around because—I don’t know, probably just because he’s the first contact they made in the North Pole—or a bunch of other people deciding that they like him for his personality?”

Katara grimaced, half with the effort of holding the rock up off of the ground, and half at the idea of Pakku trying to make friends. It didn’t seem especially likely that Pakku would be able to endear himself to others, she could admit that much. But secret societies sounded a lot more like the kind of nonsense that Sokka usually came up with after pickled eelsquid dreams than an actual possibility.

“I think it’s probably something else entirely,” she said. “Pakku isn’t the friendly type, but I’m sure there’s something much more normal going on with those three.”

A scoff. “You say that like we don’t run into something much weirder than a secret society of weird old guys every single week.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but he frowned, glanced past Katara, and then shot upright. “Uh—what’s going on here, guys?”

Katara turned to follow Sokka’s gaze and froze, allowing the stone to fall back to the ground with a crack when she found herself face-to-face with six tall, broad earthbenders. None of them moving, all six just waiting and watching her and Sokka. An odd tingling sensation ran up her spine. No matter what they were here for, the fact that there were six of them put her on edge.

“General Fong would like to speak to the two of you again,” the mustached and sideburned man at the front said. “He asked us to escort you back up to the meeting room.”

“Yeah?” Sokka said. “And—what, was he scared that you were going to get lost on the way here unless you had five other people to ask for directions?”

The same earthbender just frowned. “Are you coming, or do we have to carry you?”

Katara felt her eyebrows shoot upward, and she glanced back at Sokka. Good idea or not, she had a feeling that they didn’t have much choice but to obey for now. With any luck, though, speaking to Fong again would at least bring them back to Aang. Then, once the three of them were together, they could turn their attention toward getting out.

Though it had been days since the beads last hung around his wrist, Zuko felt bare without them. Instinctively, over and over, he rubbed at his wrist, hoping that their reassuring presence might somehow reappear if he just checked often enough. But of course the beads were still gone, and after a few hours of fruitless searching, the skin where the beads should have sat was beginning to grow raw.

He never should have taken them off. He never should have let his last scrap of Katara out of his sight, not even for a moment. Even if he hadn’t anticipated Azula’s arrival, he should have known that it was always possible that someone could come along and take that last token away from him. He should have known because it had happened to him before. Everything that mattered to him eventually got torn away when he least expected it.

For a while, Uncle was quiet, apparently content to watch Zuko pace the length of the room over and over again. Then at last, “Have you reached any decisions about Azula’s offer, Prince Zuko?”

He spun back to face Uncle, eyes wild. “Are you insane, Uncle? I can’t agree to—”

Uncle’s expression held steady, and he kept his voice low. “Refusal is a decision, Nephew. Perhaps not a wise one to share with her directly, but a decision nonetheless.”

The tightness in his chest eased just enough for Zuko to exhale and resume his pacing. “Her terms are basically suicide. I’m not stupid.”

“Then perhaps you have given some thought to what you would like to do instead. If you do not wish to join her, there are other places we may go.” Uncle paused. “I have not received word from the friend I hoped to visit after leaving Chuanxi, but it will take quite a long journey to reach him, and there are several acquaintances who would likely welcome us for a day or two of rest along the way.”

That was one of the better ideas that Zuko had heard in the past few days. He didn’t especially care where they went—and he wasn’t sure how much he could possibly trust Uncle’s acquaintances after Azula found them here—but they had to leave one way or another. He could worry about how reasonable Uncle’s possible destinations were once they were clear of Chuanxi.

Uncle waited a moment longer, and when Zuko didn’t protest, he added, “If that is the path you would like to follow, it may be wise to begin packing now. It will be risky, but I believe we could make our exit sometime after sunset.”

For some reason, Zuko’s chest tightened again, and he jerked back away from Uncle. “Are you crazy? We can’t just leave.”

A look of surprise flashed across Uncle’s face, but he steadied his expression just as quickly. “It seems that I misunderstood you. If you want to stay here—”

“No.” The word tore its way out of his throat, and Zuko ran a hand across his hair, the uneven strands at the back catching between his fingers. “I’m not going back with her. And I don’t want to stay here either, I just—”

“Then what would you like us to do?”

Zuko stared. “I—” His voice caught in his throat, and he shook his head. “I don’t—” Then, when no amount of spluttering could bring the rest of the sentence into focus in his mind, he turned sharply away. “I need some air.”

If Uncle tried to stop him on his way out the door, Zuko didn’t notice. He burst out into the midday sunlight and briefly wondered how it was possible that it was only midday, rubbing hard at his bare wrist again. At the end of the walkway nearest to Azula’s hut, a cluster of guards glanced up in his direction, but neither they nor the guard posted at the far opposite end so much as moved as Zuko set off along the walkway to the south.

Somehow, that unnerved him more than almost anything else. The guards didn’t react because they probably knew that it was unnecessary. That Azula had cornered him, and that he would have to be an idiot to even think of attempting an escape right now.

And they were right. Zuko was cornered.

Clenching his hands into fists, he put his head down and quickened his pace. This whole thing was impossible. Completely impossible. Zuko couldn’t go back to the Fire Nation. Even if he hadn’t been able to see through Azula’s lies about Father wanting him back, even if he hadn’t understood the depths to which she was willing to take her blackmail, he couldn’t forget the way that Father had tried to have him killed back when he was still hunting the Avatars. He couldn’t forget everything he’d done since then, all the other, stronger reasons that Father would have for wanting him dead now.

All of that was clear enough. Returning home would be a death sentence, and as little hope or optimism as Zuko felt at the moment, he certainly wasn’t about to throw himself back under Father’s control. Things might not get better for him out here in the Earth Kingdom, but they couldn’t get better if he went home.

But the trouble was that he couldn’t see any promising alternatives. He had to leave, he was fine with that. He might be on the run for the rest of his life, but it couldn’t be much worse than banishment or living as a stowaway on Zhao’s ship. He could adjust to that, in time.

But Azula had Katara’s beads. And try as he might, Zuko couldn’t even bring himself to think about leaving unless he managed to get them back first.

He turned a corner on the walkway, not allowing his pace to slacken even once he was out of sight of Azula’s guards. With an extended, unsteady sigh, he ran a hand across his hair. How could he possibly hope to find the beads now? If Azula had them, she would be keeping them close. Hiding the beads on her ship wouldn’t be good enough—though there was no way she could know about his exploits as the Blue Spirit, Zuko had liked sneaking around as a child, and Azula would probably anticipate him snooping through every nook and cranny he could find. Which meant that beads would be guarded, probably right there in Azula’s hut where she could keep an eye on them. She wasn’t likely to give him any real opportunities to search her room, and even if she left the hut long enough for him to try, the guards would still be there to stop him.

Drawing another unsteady breath, he ground at his forehead with the heel of his hand. To make matters worse, there was still the problem of escaping from Chuanxi. Sure, Uncle had suggested that they wait until sunset, but the cover of darkness wouldn’t do them much good if Azula ordered her men to guard the hut that he and Uncle shared. At best, they might be able to slip away during a late-night shift change, but that would probably only give them a few minutes’ head start before Azula started after them. And if it came to a fight with Azula and her guards—Zuko was a much better firebender now than he had been a few months ago, but he was out of practice, and he didn’t like his chances if he and Uncle were outnumbered.

Zuko turned again when he reached the end of the walkway, and for a while, he lost himself in a haze of loud, contradicting thoughts as he paced. He had to leave Chuanxi. He couldn’t leave without retrieving Katara’s beads. He couldn’t let Azula suspect that he was planning to flee, and yet he couldn’t get the beads back without facing her. And, possibly more important than anything else, he had less than twenty-four hours left to make his escape before Azula made everything worse.

Impossible. It all seemed completely and utterly impossible.

Zuko was vaguely aware of passing by one of Azula’s guards again after what felt like a long time wandering the walkways at the inland end of Chuanxi, but it wasn’t until he nearly walked straight into a railing that he finally looked up and realized that he’d somehow circled all the way around to the cliffs that led down to the harbor below. Blinking, he took a step back and glanced around to regain his bearings. He must have been lost in thought for quite some time to have worked his way all the way over here again. Back to the same walkway that led straight to Azula’s hut, almost back to the hut where Uncle was surely waiting for him to resume their conversation again.

Shit. He ran a hand down the side of his face. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He still didn’t have any clearer idea of how they might be able to sneak out of here, and he certainly wasn’t ready to explain that the reason he couldn’t bring himself to leave quite yet was that Azula had stolen a couple of beads.

“Lost again, boy?” There was a creaking noise behind him, and Zuko turned back to find Mi Cha staring at him through her half-opened door.

“I—no, I’m not lost.” That was ridiculous. He’d been here long enough to know his way around. The fact that he’d been so distracted that he’d wandered all the way here without realizing it didn’t mean that he was lost.

“Could have fooled me.” Mi Cha frowned at him for another moment, then took half a step back, opening her door a little further. “You’re a strong young man, aren’t you?”

“What?”

She jerked a thumb vaguely in the direction of Azula’s hut. “That delightful lot from the Fire Nation scared off all my staff, and now all their thumping around shook a shelf loose in my kitchen. Ordinarily, I’d have one of my workers fix these things up, but with them gone, you’re probably the next best thing.”

Zuko stared.

“Hurry up. There’ll be a cup of tea in it for you if you work quick.”

He blinked a few times to be certain that he wasn’t imagining things. No, Mi Cha was definitely there. “I don’t like tea,” he said harshly. “And I have more important things to worry about right now than your—”

“Those goons are here because of you, aren’t they?”

His face went hot. “Well—they’re just—it’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Mi Cha crossed her arms. “Then explain where all the firebenders came from.”

“They’re—” His voice failed, and Zuko glanced toward the nearest guard. He didn’t have time for this. The longer he stood out here, in plain view of several of Azula’s men, the less time he would have to figure out what to do next. And if he waited around in the open for too long, the guards might very well start paying undue attention to him.

Maybe it would be faster to just play along.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Show me this stupid shelf.”

“I don’t care for the attitude, young man,” Mi Cha said, but she stepped to the side, beckoning him indoors. “I do hope that you’re at least a decent worker to make up for the rudeness.”

He scowled. He wasn’t the one begging for help with something utterly trivial. His entire future relied on whether or not he managed to escape Chuanxi in the next twenty or so hours. He thought that he was entitled to a little rudeness.

Almost before he crossed the threshold, Mi Cha shut the door after him. “It’s about time. Spirits, boy, are you always this slow?”

“Are you always this impatient?” he shot back. “What, did you expect me to sprint the last few steps or something?”

“I expected that someone who’s meant to be reasonable would come looking for help earlier than this. It’s been more than a day already. If you’d been thinking, everything could have been sorted out ages ago.” With that, she turned and marched off toward the far end of the dimly lit room.

He felt his forehead crease, and he squinted, scanning around the room for a fallen shelf. There was nothing that he could see, not even a hint of disorder anywhere. “I’m not here to ask for help. You said that you needed me to fix some stupid shelf.”

“Slow in more ways than one, I see.” She rustled around in a cabinet at the far corner of the room. “There is no shelf to fix. Do try to keep up, would you?”

“Then why am I even here? I’ve got more important things to worry about. My sister is out there trying to blackmail me into going home just so I can get killed, and there are guards crawling all over the place, and I don’t have time to—”

“Time isn’t what you need to worry about right now.”

“How is it not? I have less than a day to figure out what I’m going to do before Azula sends all her guards after me. And I need to get out of here, but not before I—I have to get back something that she stole from me.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed stare, Mi Cha straightened again and thumped a small carton onto a waist-high shelf before closing the cabinet again. “Just as I said. It’s not the time, it’s the action you need to worry about.”

Was that tea that she’d just pulled out of the cabinet? Really? Ugh, she had to be worse than Uncle.

He shook his head and turned back for the door. “That’s it. I get enough of this nonsense from Uncle. I don’t need it from you too.”

“Even if it means putting your sister out of commission for a few hours?”

Zuko stopped. Brows furrowing, he shot a glance back over his shoulder.

Mi Cha shook her head like his inability to read her mind was the real problem here. With one hand, she popped the carton open and pulled a scrap of paper from a drawer with the other. “How much time did you say you had left?”

“It’s—I’m not exactly sure, but it’s probably only eighteen or twenty hours now.”

“Then as long as you choose your opportunity wisely, you should have plenty of time.” She scooped a small portion of the powdered tea leaves onto the paper and began folding the edges up to form a packet. “Usually, a pinch of slumber root in a full pot of tea is enough to help a whole family of insomniacs sleep through the night. In larger doses—” she shot a sideways glance in his direction. “—it could easily sedate a grown man in a few minutes’ time. And the effects can last as long as twelve hours if you plan things right.”

Slowly, very slowly, Zuko turned back to face her again. “Are you suggesting that I should—”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m offering you an option. If you’re bold enough to take it, that is.” With one last fold, she secured the packet shut and tucked the carton back into place in the cabinet. “Spirits know that your uncle wouldn’t think of any such thing.”

For a few long seconds, all Zuko could do was stare at the tiny, pale scrap of paper. If he could somehow get Azula to drink that stuff, it might solve a lot of problems. If he timed it right,  and if Uncle could find a way for them to leave Chuanxi without alerting the guards, Azula might fall asleep right after sunset and not realize that they were gone until she woke well after sunrise. A whole night of travel would take them far from her reach, and it might be enough of a head start for them to actually aim toward a real destination. They might actually be able to get far enough ahead to manage a few weeks or months of safety somewhere else before Azula started to catch up again.

Maybe. If he could get close enough to get Azula to drink the stuff. If he could manage that without being caught. But even with all the risks, all the uncertainty, it was still more promising than anything he’d been able to come up with so far.

Tongue frozen in place, Zuko accepted the packet when Mi Cha passed it his way, then allowed her to usher him back out into the sunlight. He barely heard her exaggerated exclamations about how useful it was to have helpful young men like him around, about how entirely useless the guards were by comparison. Keeping his eyes fixed forward, mind spinning with terrified thoughts, he made for the hut, where he was almost positive that Uncle would be waiting for him.

Sure enough, Uncle heaved an enormous sigh when he walked in. “Prince Zuko. Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry that something terrible might have happened. Have you reached any decisions about—”

Still half numb, Zuko nodded. “Start packing, Uncle.”

Sokka was not an optimist.

In fact, he was very used to being called precisely the opposite. In fact, Katara and Aang saw him as such a grumpy cynic that he’d had to learn to ignore the eye rolling whenever he wanted to take the time to examine all the worst case scenarios for each of their plans. He didn’t exactly consider himself to be a true pessimist, but he was ordinarily pretty good at seeing all the ways that things could go wrong for them.

But somehow, in all his wildest imaginings, Sokka hadn’t pictured Fong flipping his lid completely and burying him and Katara up to their thighs in sand. It was original, he had to give the guy that much.

But that was about as close to a compliment as he was ever going to come. Because at this point, he was fairly sure that Fong was planning to kill him and Katara to get Aang into the Avatar State. Which, considering how normal this place had seemed at first, was more than a bit surprising. At least King Bumi had had the decency to act like a complete nutjob before encasing him and Katara in jennamite.

Even though there was almost no chance that it would help against Fong’s bending, Sokka struggled against the loose sand, wriggling his legs and whacking at the surface with the butt of his boomerang. Maybe if he could scrabble his way back out onto the paving stones, he might be able to put up a real fight.

Or, more realistically, he might be able to haul Katara out of the sand too and watch while she found every drop of water in the area and proceeded to comprehensively wreck Fong with her bending. Which might dent Sokka’s ego a tiny bit, but the sheer entertainment value of seeing Katara actually prove herself as the Avatar would make up for that. It wasn’t like they could possibly stay here after this mess. And if they were leaving anyway, they might as well use everything they had on the way out.

“Aang, don’t listen to Fong,” Katara shouted. She seemed to be having a tiny bit more luck in her struggle against the sand than Sokka was, but thanks to the difference in height, she was stuck almost exactly at his eye-level. “This is a trap. He’s just trying to scare you into the Avatar State.”

Sokka turned his boomerang around so that he could use the broadest end as a shovel. “Is it still a scare tactic when he’s trying to kill us? I think we crossed a line somewhere in there.”

Fong just laughed at all of them like the crazed creep he apparently was. “You’ll have to act quickly if you want to save them, Avatar. There’s no time to waste.”

“What do you want me to do?” Aang wriggled around, but with a big, burly earthbender holding each of his shoulders, there wasn’t much more that he could do. “I can’t earthbend them out if your guards won’t let me go. And you never taught me any earthbending in the first place!”

“Precisely. There is only one other way for you to access your earthbending. If you want to save them, you will have to try harder this time.”

This guy really didn’t have anything better to do, did he? Sokka had a tendency to get caught up in his planning and stuff at times, but even he had nothing on Fong’s obsession over the Avatar State.

Beside him, Katara shifted her stance as much as she could and started bending in broader, swooping strokes. Though he certainly wasn’t an expert, Sokka thought that it looked a bit more like waterbending than earthbending. And after just a few sweeps of her arms, the sand started to respond, flinging out away from them in waves just like it was water.

With a sigh of relief, Sokka started wriggling harder as her bending loosened the sand around his legs, flopping onto his stomach so that he could attempt to wedge his boomerang into a gap in the paving stones and haul himself to safety. Only one way to save themselves. He could have almost laughed at that if not for the fact that Fong was still close enough to make things worse. Clearly the guy didn’t know anything about them if he thought that they would be content to just stand around and wait for Aang to pull them out of the sand.

Sokka managed to work his legs out of the sand bit by bit, and he could hear Katara beside him, doing exactly the same. But then, just when he was almost close enough to grab onto the edge, the sand shifted again, and Sokka lurched downward, sinking well past his waist this time. He grunted at the suddenness of the motion, and beside him, Katara gasped. When Sokka looked her way, he found her buried more than halfway up her chest with both elbows pinned tight to her sides.

“Katara!” Aang grabbed General Fong’s arm and yanked. “Let her go, General Fong! You’re going to hurt her!”

“Oh, thanks a lot, buddy!” Sokka shouted. “Now is a great time to pick favorites.”

“Hurry, Avatar,” Fong repeated, his voice dropping into and odd, sing-songy tone. “You wouldn’t want to lose your friends, would you?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Katara shouted again. “We’re going to be—”

Not fine. That was becoming clearer to Sokka by the moment, and judging by the frantic edge to Katara’s voice, not to mention the fact that her arms were pinned by her sides, she had to know it as well. Fong really had been playing earlier, and now that he was actually trying, it was like the sand was clutching them both in a single, immense fist. 

Shit. Fong really didn’t care whether he killed them, did he?

Sokka kept wriggling and struggling as long as he could, watching uneasily from the corner of his eye as Katara sank further and faster. Shit. There was nothing he could do. Either Fong would get his way on this, or they were both going to drown. In sand. Which honestly sounded worse than the regular kind of drowning.

Then, just when Sokka sunk down so far that he couldn’t turn his head enough to see Katara anymore, a gust of wind started up, and Aang’s tattoos started to glow. Almost as if something out there wanted to prove Fong right.

As the dust picked up around them, swirling faster and faster so that Sokka couldn’t see or hear much of anything, the sand tightened around his chest, squeezing tight enough that he started to think that his ribs might crack under the pressure. But after a few seconds passed, its grip on him slipped, and he shot upward out of the sand like an especially slippery fish, then slammed back to the ground, just barely managing to catch himself on his hands and knees.

Ouch. There would be bruises there tomorrow. But on the bright side, he was free now—whether the Avatar State or Fong was responsible for that, he couldn’t tell any more than he could tell which had nearly crushed his ribs—and he instinctively pulled his tunic up to keep the dust away from his nose and mouth before turning to scrabble around in the sand for Katara.

He couldn’t see much of anything through the dust, and he couldn’t tell whether or not he’d been launched far from his original spot in the sand pit, but no amount of searching brought him to anything but more sand and rocks. Great. That meant that either she’d sunk in beneath the surface, or Katara was in the Avatar State too.

Squinting even harder, Sokka braced himself against the wind and did his best to stand, then searched for any sign of where Aang or Katara might be. There was nothing. Just dust, constantly swirling and changing direction so that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of his face.

This was just fantastic. How was he supposed to do anything useful when he couldn’t see anything, even any possible incoming waves or rocks or fireballs?

He fumbled around until he found his way over to the platform where General Fong had been standing before Aang went glowy, and scrambled to the top, doing his best to keep the dust off of his face along the way. He couldn’t be much help if he couldn’t see what was going on, he reasoned, but he could still poke around and see if there were any nearby exits or anything else he could use. After a bit more blind scrabbling around on his hands and knees, he rammed headfirst into one of Fong’s ankles, then scooted backward as fast as he could when a load of rocks started whizzing past, all aimed squarely at Fong. On the one hand, that did probably mean that Katara and Aang were close, but on the other, this was probably a little too close for him to be poking around.

When the dust finally began to settle a bit, Sokka’s hand closed around something small and white—Aang’s bison whistle, he realized after examining it a little. He blew as hard as he could before he finally stood and turned to find Fong on the other side of the platform, buried up to his neck in rocks and looking a little bit dazed.

“Two. There’s two of you.” Fong blinked a few times, then shook his head and broke into an enormous smile. Apparently, the fact that he had a bloody nose and half of his beard was burned off didn’t bother him in the least. “Oh, the spirits must be smiling on us today. I could never have wished for fortune half so good as this.”

Seriously? Whistle still pinched between his lips, Sokka jogged the last few steps across the platform to get to Fong.

“You’re insane,” Katara shouted from the other end of the courtyard, close to where Aang had landed in a heap on the ground. “Are you trying to get everyone killed?” Her voice wobbled a little, and Sokka glanced her way just long enough to be sure that she was okay. Mostly, it looked like. She was standing, at least.

Fong shook himself, and the rocks dropped away like it was nothing. “I am trying to ensure everyone’s safety. Facing a little risk at the start certainly won’t deter me from using the most powerful tool at our disposal, especially not now that we know how it works.”

“You don’t know how it works, you just hurt me and my brother until Aang and I went into the Avatar State,” Katara called back. “What if that isn’t enough next time? Hmm? How far are you willing to go?”

Since Fong didn’t seem the least bit interested in Sokka, he edged his way around the side of the platform while the general launched into a speech about how they could look for other methods, how any amount of risk would be worth it to finally end the war, on and on and on. Then, when he was positioned almost perfectly behind Fong, Sokka gave one last blow on the bison whistle before raising his boomerang and thumping Fong on the back of the head.

“I think we’re going to pass on that offer,” he said, as casually as he could. He shot a look back at the nearest guard. “If he asks what happened when he wakes up, we were never here. Got it?”

Chapter Text

It was only about an hour from sunset when Zuko ventured out again and aimed himself back toward Azula’s hut.

He didn’t have a plan. Not really. He knew that he had to somehow get Azula to speak with him alone without rousing any suspicions. He knew that he had to get to her to drink the tea so that she would fall asleep. He knew that he had to wait until she was unconscious before he could even think of searching for Katara’s beads. And he knew that after all of that was finished, he would still have to get past all of Azula’s guards without drawing their attention, meet back up with Uncle, and find a way out of Chuanxi.

The trouble was that he couldn’t for the life of him imagine how exactly he would manage even one of those things, much less all of them in sequence. He wished that he had more time to plan, more time to examine the possibilities and imagine all the ways Azula might try to preempt him so that he wouldn’t be taken so badly off guard when it inevitably happened. But there wasn’t any time left. If he didn’t act now, there wouldn’t be enough time to flee before Azula’s guards realized that something was amiss.

He paused outside the door just long enough to steady his breathing. From behind him, the amber-colored evening sun cast nearly horizontal rays of light, and his somewhat scraggly-looking shadow fell in sharp relief onto the deeply grooved wood of the door. He could almost see the tension in his shoulders, the muscles working in his jaw, and he exhaled again, willing himself to relax. If he looked too nervous, Azula might suspect him.

On the other hand, if he looked too relaxed, she would definitely know that he was up to something. So maybe it didn’t even pay to try.

He knocked, then when there was no answer, he knocked again, louder this time. “Azula! I know you’re in there.”

For a few long moments, it was quiet enough that he started to suspect that Azula wasn’t here after all, that she’d gone down to her ship for the evening, and that his entire plan—or what scraps of a plan he’d been able to scrape together—had already been upended. But then at last, there was a soft creak from a floorboard, and the door cracked open just far enough for two identical, craggy faces to stare out at him.

Zuko jumped and took a hasty step back. Shit. He’d almost managed to wipe all memory of Azula’s weird nannies from his mind over the past three years. And if he had remembered them, he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see them here.

Li and Lo—or it might have been Lo and Li—blinked at him in unison and glanced at one another before one of them spoke.

“A visit from a prince. It is an honor and a delight, Your Highness.”

“Quite an inconvenient time, though,” the other said. “Back at home, it would be considered the height of rudeness to knock on a lady’s door at this time of day without an invitation.”

“Ah, yes it would. And he doesn’t look much like a prince anymore, does he?”

“It could be the clothes.”

“The clothes wouldn’t be so bad if the posture were improved. And the hair is positively appalling.”

“Shall we send him off to get cleaned up? Surely it would be no honor to accept such a sloppy-looking royal visitor.”

“Yes, I think that may be wise.”

Though the tension in his chest and shoulders didn’t ease in the slightest, there was a powerful enough wave of irritation that Zuko managed to ignore the anxiety, at least for a moment. Scowling, he stretched as tall as he could and squinted past them into the dimness of the hut. “Azula! I know you’re in there. I didn’t come here to chat with your creepy talking dolls!”

At that, both Li and Lo gasped dramatically and leaned in so close that their foreheads almost touched, chattering to each other in exaggerated whispers. Zuko rolled his eyes. If they were offended, fine. But acting and speaking in near unison like that was hardly going to dispel the unsettling impression that they’d always left him with.

He was about to give in and shoulder his way past Li and Lo when Azula finally responded. “Lo, Li, ignore my brother. He’s been away from home for three years. It’s only natural that he’s lost any refinement he used to have after all that time.” There was a faint rustling beyond the doorway, and after a few more long seconds, Li and Lo parted, allowing Azula to emerge between them. “Good evening, Zuzu. What lovely weather we’re having today.” She allowed her blistering smile to drop, shifting back into her habitual smirk instead. “See? Politeness really isn’t so difficult. You should try it.”

Zuko took a second to inhale. This is a game to her, he reminded himself. Don’t play along with it. He held his expression as steady as he could. “It’s funny how you can’t seem to manage any politeness when Uncle is around, then. Isn’t it supposed to be easy?”

What little artificial warmth remained in Azula’s eyes evaporated, and she crossed her arms. “What do you want, Zuzu? Have you made your decision yet?”

Another slow breath. “I’ve decided that I need to know more before I make up my mind,” he answered. “You said that I had twenty-four hours. You never said that I couldn’t ask questions before that time is up.”

Rolling her eyes, Azula waved him on. “Go on, then. It had better be something important if you’re going to interrupt me like this.”

Zuko shook his head. “I’m not that stupid. I know how your lackeys like to gossip.” Then, when Azula narrowed her eyes, he added, “You're insane if you think I’m going to agree to negotiate in front of an audience.”

Though Azula still looked annoyed, a flash of smugness crossed her face at the mention of negotiation. After an instant, she gave him a curt nod. “Fine, then. I suppose I can’t fault you for finally putting in a little effort.” She motioned Li and Lo down toward the harbor with a tilt of her head. “You two may as well head back to the ship anyway. Knowing Zuzu, this could take a while.”

Heart roaring in his ears, Zuko stepped back far enough to allow the creepy old women past, then waited for Azula’s signal to cross the threshold.

One step down. There were still several dozen more to go, but this was already farther than he’d expected to make it.

As hard as she tried, Katara couldn’t seem to relax. Even after Appa had appeared over the walls and roared until all the earthbenders backed off, she’d been worried that the paving stones might open up and the sand would suck them in again. When they made it to the barracks and hastily gathered up their things, she couldn’t keep herself from checking over her shoulder for any sign that the guards might be coming. And even when Sokka snapped the reins and called Appa up into the air, she couldn’t escape the feeling that someone might still try to stop them.

For the first few minutes, all she could do was sit back against the rim of the saddle, staring at the ground as it grew smaller below them. This felt familiar, and yet strange, almost foreign. It had been weeks since they’d last ridden Appa for any length of time, and months since they’d had to flee like this. And this time, unlike with all their previous travels, she didn’t have the faintest clue where they might be going. Where they could settle down and be safe for more than a few days.

“You guys can probably sleep for a while,” Sokka called back from his place at the reins. “I want to get halfway there before we stop for the night, so it could take a few hours.”

From the look of it, Aang didn’t need to be told twice. Or told at all, really. He was already curled up with Momo and at least half asleep at the back of the saddle. And Katara, for her part, was plenty tired as well. Not tired enough to overcome the nervous energy that kept her peering back in the direction of Bei Haian, but still tired.

Or she was tired until Sokka’s meaning fully sank in, at least. With a jolt of realization, she sat upright and crawled to the front of the saddle.

“Halfway there? Halfway to what? Where are we going?”

“Oh. Uhhh—” Though his face was angled so that she couldn’t make out his expression, she thought that the tips of his ears darkened. “That’s—you know, that’s just a figure of speech.”

She flicked him in the ear. “Want to try that again, smart guy?”

“Ow!” Sokka clapped a hand over his ear and shot a reproachful look back at her. “Not cool, Katara.”

“Neither is lying, but look where we are.” Katara flicked him again. “Spill it. Where are we going?”

“You know, as much as it sucks when Aang goes into the Avatar State and wrecks everything, at least he has the decency to go to sleep right afterward. You’re way too energetic.” He rubbed his ear a few more times so that it turned several shades redder and turned forward again. Then, “Fine. It’s a place called Chuanxi. Look at the map if you’re that curious. I’ve got it marked.”

She could have taken the time to look for it—the map was buried somewhere in their somewhat haphazard mound of supplies at the moment, but it wouldn’t have taken too long. But she didn’t need a map to see that they were traveling toward the northeast.

Her grip on the front of the saddle tightened. “And what’s in Chuanxi? I thought you wanted to go to Omashu, and that’s not on the way.”

Sokka glanced over his shoulder. “Take a wild guess. Why do you think we’re going there?”

Her heart sat in the back of her throat. “Zuko.”

“We have a winner,” he said, voice a bit flat.

She let out a small puff of breath. It might have almost been a laugh if she could manage to see any humor in the situation. Instead, she just shook her head and leaned against the edge of the saddle again. “You really have known where he’s been all along, haven’t you?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘all along,’ I guess.”

“Long enough that we could have found him days ago.”

With a sigh, Sokka turned halfway back around. “It’s not that easy, and you know it. Listen, I’ll be the first to admit that Zuko’s not exactly my favorite person in the world. Frankly, he’s a major pain in the ass most of the time.”

Katara scowled.

“But,” he continued, “Pakku didn’t tell me about this Chuanxi place until right before we landed. And considering how hiding a firebender went at the North Pole, I figured it would be better to hold off on looking for him until we figured out what Fong’s deal was.” A significant look. “And considering this whole mess, I think that was probably a good call on my part. Fong turned out nutty enough without throwing a firebender into the mix.”

She scowled again. The fact that Sokka probably had a good point didn’t make her feel much better. Zuko wouldn’t have been safe at Bei Haian, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was safe at this Chuanxi place. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget the desperate, despondent look in his eyes when they’d parted. Anything could have happened to him since then.

“Oh, don’t give me that face. Mister Grumpy is fine. He’s annoying like that. He’ll bounce back from anything.”

This time, the scowl wasn’t quite enough. She whacked him in the arm.

“What? It’s been less than a week since we got to Bei Haian. What do you think could have possibly happened in that time?”

Katara sighed, folding her arms on the edge of the saddle. “I don’t know.”

“Well then relax, would you? We’re gonna be there tomorrow, so you can stop moping already.”

“I’m not moping,” she insisted.

“Oh yeah? What is this, then?”

She frowned. “I’m just—worried, I guess. A week isn’t much time, but it doesn’t take much for things to go wrong.”

Reaching back, Sokka patted the top of her head like she was Momo. “I don’t get what you see in that weirdo.”

Scowling again, she squirmed out from under his hand. “Like you’re in any position to call people weird.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m the normalest guy around.” He patted Katara’s head again. “Just wait. We’ll find Zuko tomorrow, then I’ll prove it to you.”

Azula breezed back into the hut, ramming Zuko with her shoulder along the way. “Well, you’ve interrupted my evening tea. If that’s what you were aiming for, congratulations. You’ve thoroughly disrupted my routine.” She paused beside her table and fixed him with a frigid glare. “This had better be worth my time.”

His hands tightened into fists, and he consciously allowed one arm to bump against his leg, feeling with his wrist for the little paper packet stowed in his pocket. It was still there, thankfully, and Zuko relaxed as much as he could. “I’m not sure how much you get to complain about inconvenience when you sailed all the way across the ocean to bother me. But I can try to keep this quick if you’re so worried about that.”

“See that you do,” Azula said, tone almost painfully saccharine. She perched on a cushion by the table, then shot an expectant look up at Zuko. “Well? Are you just going to stand there or what?”

He did his best not to stare at the teapot as he made his way forward and sat across from her.

“If you’re really that frightened to sit with me, Zuzu, then this is shaping up to be a very long and very boring meeting.”

He frowned. “I’m just a little worried that you’ll try to give me one of those ghouls’ dirty teacups, that’s all.”

Smirking, Azula poured herself a cup. “Would I do such a thing?” Then, after a brief pause, “Oh, don’t bother answering that. Of course I would. But not today. That seems a bit too childish when we’re still getting reacquainted. Besides, it wouldn’t be any fun if you knew what was coming.” She made a show of taking a dainty sip.

Zuko exhaled and wiped his sweaty palms against his legs. She hadn’t poured him any tea, and even if she had, he had no intention of drinking anything that Azula had poured. “So you really don’t know why Father changed his mind about wanting me home?”

“This again?” She sighed tremendously. “I can’t read Father’s mind, Zuzu. He wanted me to bring you home, and I couldn’t think of any reason not to oblige him. If it matters that much to you, I suppose you’ll just have to wait until you have a chance to ask him yourself.”

It took a moment to restrain himself from blurting out that he had no intention of going home, especially not with her. This was a good thing, he tried to remind himself. He wanted Azula to believe that he was wavering on the edge, just minutes away from finally agreeing with her. So long as she thought that she was winning, Zuko would have more freedom to maneuver.

“Do you at least know when he started to reconsider things?” he pressed. “I know you didn’t start looking until after the battle at the North Pole, but—”

“But you would rather believe that Father always secretly wanted you back?” There was a mocking edge to her tone, and Azula set down her teacup and ran a sharp fingernail around its rim. “It hasn’t been that long. You really weren’t giving me much interesting news to work with for the first few years. But I don’t know when exactly he changed his mind, just that he said he wanted you home after the battle.”

“Was he surprised? I mean—my own crew thought I was dead after—”

“The accident with your ship?”

Zuko nodded. “It was sort of hard to tell what news made it back home, though. My crew didn’t exactly spend a lot of time writing back to the Fire Nation.”

“Oh, we heard. Of course we did. That was a terrible business. Such a shame that it took so long for news of your survival to make it back home.”

While she was busy inspecting her fingernails, Zuko slipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve the paper packet, then clutched it in his hand. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

Azula rolled her eyes extravagantly. “What do you want from me, Zuzu? You’re alive. Not all of us can be all touchy-feely like Uncle and cry over good news.”

“So you were upset when you thought I was dead, then?”

“Devastated.” The answer was so automatic, her voice so flat that it took all of Zuko’s restraint not to scoff.

“What about Father?” He couldn’t look around much without drawing Azula’s notice, but he took an instant while she wasn’t paying attention to look back past her right shoulder, then her left. He needed some sort of distraction, some sort of diversion to get her to look away long enough to dump the powder into her drink.

“Father thought that he’d lost his firstborn son. How do you think he felt?”

Zuko’s tongue got the better of him. “That’s the funny thing. I never got the impression that Father felt much of anything where I was—” He froze midsentence when his eyes caught on a tiny flash of blue on the bedside table.

He should have looked away. He should have tried to hold his composure rather than allowing the mask to slip, allowing Azula to break his composure, even for a moment. That had to be why she’d left the beads lying in plain sight—to trip him up, to prove that no matter how level-headed he managed to act, she still had the upper hand. He knew better than to give her that edge back when he’d been able to hold his ground so far.

But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t drag his eyes away. Katara’s beads were there. Lying right in front of him, just out of reach on the other side of Azula.

And then, before he could so much as remember how to breathe, Azula’s gaze locked onto him again, and a cold, calculated grin crept across her face. “I was wondering when you would notice that, Zuzu. In fact, Li and Lo were placing wagers about just how long it would take for you to notice that your precious little trinket was right there under your nose.” Slowly, languidly, she rose to her feet. “Of course, they were both wrong. Li thought it would take more than an hour. Lo said that there was no way you would remember such a shabby little thing. But I was willing to give you a bit more credit than that.”

His heart was racing so fast that when Azula turned her back, he almost couldn’t bring himself to move. Hands shaking a bit, he reached across the table toward her teacup. If he didn’t act now, he might never have another chance.

“And as for the trinket itself, I don’t think ‘shabby’ is quite the right word.” Azula picked up the length of twine, allowing the beads to dangle carelessly in the air. “I would probably call it tacky. Or maybe sentimental. I certainly can’t see why you would want to hold onto something so ridiculous, but I do still know you well enough to understand that it must mean something to you. Otherwise, why would you hold onto something so completely useless?”

Fumbling, Zuko managed to open the packet at one corner so that part of its contents spilled into her cup. About half of the powder was still stuck in the packet, though, and half couldn’t possibly be enough to put her to sleep. As silent as he could, Zuko tore the packet open a bit farther.

“I’m curious what could possibly matter so much to you,” Azula went on. “The beads are Water Tribe, if I’m not mistaken. I know you were there with Admiral Zhao during the siege, but if you had just happened to pick up some of their trash, I don’t imagine you would’ve held onto it for this long. So what is it, Zuzu? What’s the story here?” With that, she started to turn back toward Zuko.

There was still a bit of powder left in the corner of the packet, but at the first sign of movement, Zuko clamped his fist around the scrap of paper and jerked back toward his side of the table.

“Zuzu! What do you think you’re doing?”

He froze, hands hovering just short of his edge of the table. “I’m not—nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

Azula marched back toward him, slapped the beads onto the table and grabbed his wrist before he could pull farther back. “Not doing anything, hmm? Because it looks to me like you’re trying to poison the tea.” Her grip was surprisingly strong, and though Zuko did his best to resist, she managed to pry the remainder of the packet from inside his clenched fist. “Not doing anything?” she repeated, dangling the packet in front of his eyes.

Zuko felt sick. “That’s—it’s not what you think.”

“It isn’t? Well, then.” Staring daggers straight at him, Azula lowered herself back into her seat. “In that case, I suppose you wouldn’t mind giving me a demonstration.” Without breaking eye contact, she thumped a clean cup down in front of him and poured a new, steaming cup of tea.

The terror in his chest shifted. The teapot. She thought that he’d drugged the teapot.

“Drink up, Zuzu.” Her voice had gone syrupy-sweet.

For a few long seconds, Zuko could only stare at the cup in front of him, blood roaring in his ears. It made sense, in a strange sort of way. The teapot was closer to him than Azula’s cup was, and the powder certainly wouldn’t have been as noticeable if he’d poured it into the pot rather than into her cup. Maybe it would have even been close enough for him to pull back before Azula saw what he was doing. He might have gotten away with that.

But instead, he’d taken a much greater risk, and if he was careful, it might still work.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t really like tea.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been traveling with Uncle for three years. By now, you must love it.” Her voice still carried the same sugary tone, but her eyes were hard as steel. “Drink.”

Zuko didn’t have to pretend that his hands were shaking. They managed that all on their own as he slowly lifted the teacup and took a half-sip.

“How does it taste, brother?”

Again, he didn’t have to pretend. “Bitter.”

Azula frowned. “It is, isn’t it? All of this Earth Kingdom swill seems to be.” Still staring him down, she took a prolonged sip from her own cup.

His heart skipped a beat, and until she swallowed, Zuko couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Now,” Azula resumed, apparently not noticing any difference in the flavor. “I could be unkind and force you to drink the rest. The whole pot in a single sitting. But I think I’ll be forgiving this one time.” She leaned across the table. “Tell me what you put in the tea, and I might consider sending my men off to fetch the antidote.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “Why would I do that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Zuzu. You’ve already drank your own poison. If you don’t act quickly, it could be too late for you.”

He couldn’t trust himself to speak, so he said nothing.

Azula sighed. “It’s your funeral, brother.” Then she took another sip. “Fine then. If that’s how you want to play this game, then I have nothing to lose by waiting.” Idly, she picked up Katara’s beads and twisted the twine between her fingers to examine the pale blue ivory from another angle. “You never answered my question. How and why did you end up with a few tacky little Water Tribe beads?”

Zuko wanted to run. He wanted to snatch the beads out of Azula’s hand and sprint out the door. She’d taken two long swallows of the drugged tea already. Surely it would have to take effect sooner or later.

But even if Azula fell asleep mid-pursuit, that wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t stop her guards from following him. From capturing him and hauling him back to the palace to face consequences far steeper than what Father had already planned for him.

So he would just have to wait. Sooner or later, the tea would take effect. And as long as he could keep her from calling in her guards, no one would know what he’d done until he was miles and miles out of reach.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he croaked.

“Don’t you? Careful, Zuzu. That sounds a lot like an invitation to tell Father whatever I want.”

His fists clenched. “I found them,” he lied, remembering the way that her pendant had felt dangling from his wrist all those months ago. Remembering how heavy he’d felt folding the necklace into the middle of her freshly washed clothes, giving away his best chance to negotiate with her. How unexpectedly light his shoulders had become once the pendant was back where it belonged. “I thought I knew who they belonged to, and I was planning to use them to make a bargain.”

She leaned forward. “So who do they belong to?”

“What does that matter? I was wrong, and the bargain didn’t work out.”

“Yes, but you’ve always been a terrible negotiator. I might as well show you how to do it properly now that I’ve gotten ahold of them.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. They didn’t belong to who I thought.”

Rolling her eyes, Azula tossed back the rest of her tea in a single gulp. “I should have guessed as much. Leave it to you to mess up the simplest plan in the most ridiculous way possible.” She paused, covering her mouth in what looked like an attempt at stifling a yawn. “Ugh. Do you know what your problem is, Zuzu? You’re predictable. Even after three years at sea, you’re so boring.”

His pulse quickened, and he hoped desperately that another yawn would follow. “Am I?”

She nodded. “So, so terribly dull. It’s absurd. After three years at sea, I had hoped that you would pick up at least a few new tricks, but—” Another yawn.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?”

Zuko cleared his throat. “Cutting my hair seemed to surprise you. I didn’t get the feeling that you’d predicted that.”

Azula scoffed. “Well, that’s because cutting your hair was so colossally stupid. I probably could have guessed it, but I really wanted to give you more credit than that.”

“So you’ve seen everything else coming?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, and her eyelids looked just a bit heavier than normal. “The poison was a bold choice, I’ll give you that much. Not especially creative or wise, though.” A pause. “Are you going to tell me what you put in the tea or not?”

He didn’t trust himself to answer, so he just clenched his jaw and did his best not to stare at the beads. So close. He was so close to getting out of here.

“Does Uncle know what you’re doing?”

He held his expression as steady as he could. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but Uncle doesn’t normally know what I’m doing. Apparently, my lack of planning is worrisome.”

A smirked. “That might be the truest thing you’ve said in ages.” She yawned again midway through the last word. Then, “Boring, Zuzu. You’re so boring.” Resting her chin in her hand, she allowed her eyes to close for a moment.

His pulse quickened again as he watched her. “I’m boring because I don’t know how to make a plan?”

Just a few more minutes. So far, Azula didn’t seem to realize what was happening, and so long as he could keep her from calling out for help, this might work. He might actually make it out of Chuanxi in one piece.

Azula gave an exaggerated nod. “You’re the most boring. Just imagine being away from home for three whole years and never seeing a single person more interesting than Uncle?” She laughed raucously enough that a snort slipped out partway through and she didn’t seem to notice. “And—and in three years hunting the Avatar, you never conquered anything. Not a single city—not even a village. I could have taken over half the Earth Kingdom in less time. By now, I would have a whole colony of my own. I would be the queen of half the—the dirt and the other—the rocks, and—”

Somewhere in the midst of the rant, Azula began to slur, and by the end, she was barely intelligible anymore.

Half-paralyzed, Zuko kept staring as she went from speaking to slurring to spouting long strings of nonsensical sounds that she might have thought were questions. Her head still rested on her hand, and she began to list slowly to the side until at last, her hand slipped out from beneath her chin, and her head thumped against the table.

For a few more seconds, Zuko couldn’t bring himself to move. Azula was asleep. He knew that. There was no other way she could have smacked face-first into the table hard enough to rattle the teapot and the cups without rousing herself. The slumber root had worked exactly as Mi Cha promised it would. Still, until he heard the first faint, whispery snore, Zuko could hardly breathe.

He’d done it. He felt a bit like his heart was going to burst straight through his ribcage, but somehow he’d managed to outmaneuver her.

As silently as he could, Zuko snatched the beads away from her and tied the twine back around his wrist where it belonged. Then, with the beads back in place, he let out a slow breath and stood.

He’d made it through the worst part. Now, he just had to be careful not to mess it all up.

Moving in a bit of a daze, Zuko gathered up the few scraps of paper left from the slumber root packet and burned them to ash, then poured out all the remaining tea and stacked the used cups neatly to one side. It took a few minutes longer to work up the courage to hook Azula by the armpits and haul her to her bed, but by the time that he was through, the room looked normal again. Orderly. Like Zuko had come, had a polite conversation with Azula, and left her to tidy up before bed. The only sign that anything was amiss was the fact that she still wore her armor, but he had no intention of dealing with that problem. If any of her guards paid enough attention to notice that, then Zuko was probably already sunk.

He gave the beads a slight squeeze to steel himself, then carefully tucked them out of sight beneath his sleeve. Then, with one more slow breath, he stepped out into the rapidly darkening evening.

None of the guards looked at him. None of them made a move toward the door to check on Azula. And by the time that he reached the end of the walkway and pushed open the door to the hut that he shared with Uncle, Zuko could almost feel the guards forgetting about him.

As the door closed behind him, Uncle looked up, a questioning look in his eyes and two overstuffed packs waiting on the floor beside him.

For a few seconds, Zuko just stood still with his back against the door. This was so strange. He felt almost calm.

“It’s time to go, Uncle.”

Chapter Text

It was dark.

Thanks to the thick bank of clouds that had rolled in shortly after sunset, there was no moonlight, no starlight, nothing to make it any easier to navigate through the forests east of Chuanxi.

It was probably a good thing, Zuko reminded himself. After dropping through a hidden hatch onto the forest floor, he and Uncle had found their way to the edge of the nearest stream, waded inland for nearly an hour, then finally turned back onto dry land when the stream veered northward. They were miles away by now, cloaked from view by both the darkness and a dense tangle of trees and weeds. By now, their absence might have been noticed. But even if Azula was awake and searching with all of her men, Zuko was reasonably confident that they had enough of a head start to stay safe for a little while.

Beside him, Uncle summoned a candle-sized flame to check his compass before extinguishing it and allowing the world to fall dark again. “This path is angling southward. We should turn off soon if we wish to continue traveling east.” 

Zuko gave a small, noncommittal grunt.   

A pause. “Do you have any opinion on the direction we should take, Prince Zuko?”  

He grunted again. Then, “As long as we haven’t turned back toward Azula, I don’t really care.” How could he? Zuko didn’t have the first clue about where they could possibly go in the Earth Kingdom without plunging into unnecessary danger. “And stop calling me that,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “I don’t think I can call myself a prince anymore.” 

He thought he could feel Uncle watching him in profile for a moment or two. “You are as deserving as anyone of the title, Nephew. More than I think you understand.”  

Zuko’s jaw tightened, and he did his best to focus on the hard-packed path before him.   

“But if you prefer, I will forgo the title for now,” Uncle added. “I suppose it would be wise to leave such things behind while we travel.”

For now. When did Uncle think that things could ever possibly change? They couldn’t. Between his treason at the North Pole, the impromptu haircut, and drugging Azula in order to flee, Zuko had effectively burned every bridge that they had left. There hadn’t been many options still open, what with Father wanting him dead, but Zuko had done an extremely thorough job of eliminating all the rest.

“Thanks,” he said anyway, voice hollow. Then, when he could sense Uncle inching toward more questions, he added, “Where are we going? I’m sure Azula will be out looking for us soon. We’ll have to find someplace to hide one way or another.”

“You are probably correct,” Uncle replied. There was a questioning edge to his voice, but rather than pressing on into a thinly-veiled interrogation, he sighed. “Unfortunately, the destination I had in mind before her arrival is quite a distance from here. I do believe that it would still be one of our safest options, but we will have to stop along the way. If you have any ideas in the meantime, I would be happy to hear them.”

Reflexively, Zuko felt his wrist to be sure that the beads were still there, then drew in a slow, steadying breath. Katara had to be out here somewhere, and chances were good that Uncle knew exactly where to find her. But he couldn’t face Katara now. Not when Azula’s pursuit could so easily put her in danger and tear the two of them apart all over again.

He shook his head. “You’re the one who has friends all over the Earth Kingdom, not me. I wouldn’t have any idea where to go.” 

“Ah. I suppose that is true enough.” Uncle found his elbow in the dark and steered Zuko slightly to the left and onto what might have been another path. “Then I believe that our nearest and safest option may be Omashu.” 

“That’s the nearest? Omashu is hundreds of miles away.” 

“Our nearest option for a more permanent home, yes. I do not mean to say that we must make the journey in a single stretch, but it is a well-protected inland city. My connections there could keep us safe for quite a long time so long as we make the journey safely.”

Zuko frowned. Quite a long time sounded too optimistic to him. The idea that any place could become ‘a more permanent home’ for them was absurd. But considering the little he knew about Omashu, staying for a few weeks or months might be possible. Which was better than nothing. And significantly better than any suggestions that he might be able to make.

“Fine,” he said. “I guess Omashu is as good as anyplace else.”

For a few long seconds, Uncle was quiet again. “I had thought that you might have another goal in mind. Perhaps a place to visit along the way. Or more importantly, people to visit along our way.”

A stabbing sensation hit him in the middle of his chest, and Zuko shook his head forcefully enough to drive Katara’s face out of his mind. “I don’t want to talk about that, Uncle.” 

Another silence. “Then I suppose that I may as well ask why you were so determined to speak with Azula before we left. It seems like a rather risky choice to me.”

Zuko shot a sideways look at Uncle, but he couldn’t make out much more than a shadow beside him. As far as he knew, Uncle still didn’t know anything about Katara’s beads, and Zuko had no intention to bring them up if he didn’t have to. “I wanted to make sure that we had enough time. Slow her down a little if I could.”

“I appreciate your foresight,” Uncle said. Then, after a pause, “May I ask how you managed to slow her down?” 

Another glance in Uncle’s direction. “You really don’t know?”  

“I do not.”  

Zuko sighed. “Mi Cha gave me something to add to Azula’s tea. That’s all.”  

“Oh.” There was something slightly apprehensive in Uncle’s tone, and he didn’t go any further.   

“I didn’t poison her, Uncle. It was slumber root or something. It just knocked her out for a few hours.” He glanced up at the sky. Still dark. Maybe if he was extremely lucky, she might still be asleep. Maybe her guards hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong.  

Or maybe his luck hadn’t changed, and Azula had started after them some time ago. That was possible. Maybe even likely. Still, they’d made it out of Chuanxi in one piece, and there was no sign that anyone was following them yet.

“She almost caught me,” Zuko added, quieter. “This might be the first time I was ever grateful to be the family disappointment. She thought I’d messed up badly enough to poison myself.”

Even in the dark, Uncle managed to find his shoulder to give it a pat. “You have never been a disappointment to the family who truly cares for you. Only very young and—occasionally misguided.”

Zuko frowned. He couldn’t tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not.

“And now,” Uncle resumed, “I imagine that there are only a few hours left until daybreak. If you do not have another destination in mind, I suggest that we turn off of the path here. It would be wise to seek shelter before the sun rises.”

“Are you really sure that this is the right place?” Aang hissed.  

Sokka shrugged. “You take a look at the map and tell me, buddy. The bay is the right shape, and the river is in the right spot. Unless there’s a bunch of other towns that look exactly like this, it has to be Chuanxi.” With a sigh, he lowered the spyglass. “Call me crazy, but I’m starting to think that this might not be as easy as we planned.”

Katara’s heart sat at the back of her throat. That was an understatement. They’d wasted very little time on their journey here, stopping well after sunset to camp, and setting off again just after sunrise. That should have been a good thing. They’d moved fast enough to reach Chuanxi before noon, and now the place where Zuko was meant to be waiting for them lay just on the far side of the bay.

But they weren’t the only ones here. At the base of the cliffs, right where the sharp spires of grayish stone turned to sand, a Fire Nation ship lay at anchor, its massive, pointed ramp gaping open. Thankfully, they’d taken the precaution of landing Appa in the forest south of the bay, so there was almost no chance that they’d been spotted. Still, finding a Fire Nation ship here wasn’t exactly reassuring. Especially not when the ship was nearly as large as Zhao’s had been, and ornate to the point of gaudiness, with great, sweeping curls of gold adorning the bow.

It had to belong to someone in the royal family. Possibly even the Fire Lord himself.

“Do you think they’re here to take Zuko back home?” Aang said. “I mean, if this is really the place, then they have to be here because of Zuko and the general, right? And why else would the Fire Nation come looking for them now?”

Katara shook her head forcefully. “No. No, that can’t be it. Maybe they are looking for Zuko, but he’s not going home with them.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow at her. “Miss Mind-Reader is having a good time, I see.”

She glared.

“What? You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions here, that’s all I’m saying.”

“How am I jumping to conclusions? The best-case scenario is that they want him to come home, and that’s still pretty awful.”

“Is it? I’m not saying that I want him to go back or that it would be a good idea, but there could still be something else going on here.”

Katara shook her head again. No. There was no possible way that the ship was here by accident. And there was no way that the Fire Nation coming to look for Zuko could possibly be good. The specifics beyond that didn’t matter.

She couldn’t contain herself any longer. She hopped up to her feet. “I’m going down there. I have to find him. I don’t care about the firebenders.” 

“Katara—”

“You’re not changing my mind,” she snapped. “Don’t even think about trying.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes and hopped up after her to grab her arm. “Katara. Do you think we should maybe consider figuring out who these specific firebenders are? Hmm? That great big shiny boat has to mean that it’s someone pretty important. I mean—if that’s the Fire Lord down there, we might want to know about it.” He paused long enough for her to stop and frown at him. “Not to agree with Nutball Fong or anything, but if the opportunity presents itself, then—you know.” He made a slashing motion across his neck.  

Katara raised an eyebrow. “You want us to skip looking for Zuko and jump straight to going after the Fire Lord?”

“Not necessarily.” He gestured broadly toward the bay with his free hand. “We don’t know if the Fire Lord is even here, but it can’t hurt to poke around before they realize who we are and why we’re here.”

She shook her arm free. “It might if they’re planning to do something to Zuko. You two can do whatever you want, but I’m going to make sure he’s safe before we go stirring up extra trouble. I’ll meet you back here when I find him.”

She was nearly a dozen paces away before Sokka called out to stop her. “Ugh, fine. If you’re planning to go down there anyway, at least hold up for a second so Aang and I can come with you.”

Katara shot a look back over her shoulder. “Um—no offense, guys, but Aang isn’t exactly going to go unnoticed down there.”

Sokka spluttered. “Yeah, well—then I should at least come along. You can’t face those guys alone.”

“I can if I’m not planning to fight them. For all that anyone around here knows, I’m just a visitor. And if something does go wrong, I’d rather have backup on the outside than have all of us get caught together.” She looked back at Aang. “Can you do that? Please, I just want to do this as quietly as possible.”

Though he looked a bit reluctant, Aang did eventually nod, snagging the back of Sokka’s tunic with one hand when he tried to follow. Then, before either of them could stop her, Katara set off through the trees toward the far side of the bay.

Maybe this was selfish or impulsive, but Katara didn’t so much as look back as she made her way along the edge of the forest. Even if the Fire Lord was here, even if they had an opportunity to end the war right now, there was no way she’d be able to focus well enough to be any help. Selfish or not, she had to know that Zuko was okay before she did anything else. And if that meant walking straight into Chuanxi under the firebenders’ noses, then that was just what she would have to do.

She trailed along the tops of the cliffs, occasionally glancing down into the bay to check for any signs of commotion, but there was nothing as far as she could tell. And from a distance, Chuanxi seemed just as placid. A collection of small, neat-looking houses butted up to the edge of the cliff overlooking the docks, then stretched inland along the riverbanks. It was easily the size of some of the villages that they’d passed along their travels, but each individual house was nearly identical to the next, and until she was within shouting distance, she couldn’t see anything resembling streets between the houses. Then, almost simultaneously, she came near enough to make out both the elevated wooden walkways threaded amongst the trees and the pandemonium coming from somewhere in the middle of all the houses.

For a few seconds, Katara froze in place, straining to catch any meaning whatsoever from all the noise. There was shouting, she could tell that much, but none of the voices sounded familiar from here. She couldn’t decide whether she should be reassured by that or not.

Carefully, moving as quietly as she could, Katara mounted the wooden steps and crept up onto the planked walkway. Over the roar of her pulse, it was difficult to hear much more than the occasional incoherent yell or a crash of what sounded like furniture, but there still wasn’t anything that sounded much like Zuko or the general. Doing her best to quiet her breathing, she crept from one corner to the next toward the source of the commotion.

By the time that she’d passed to the outermost three or four houses, the noise reached her a bit more clearly, and she could pick out a few distinct voices—a girl who sounded positively furious, an old woman, or possibly two old women, judging by the way that the words seemed to overlap at times, and a man. It still wasn’t Zuko or the general, though, and most of the voices were just quiet enough that she couldn’t quite make out the words from here. Frowning, Katara edged past the front of one last house and peered around the corner.

A cluster of firebenders had gathered along the walkway just a short distance from the corner where she was hidden, all in armor that looked very much like Zuko’s old armor. It was fancier, though, with vibrant gold trim around all the edges and panels of impractically bright red. For a second, it seemed that they were all so occupied with muttering amongst themselves that they would never bother to glance her way, but then a violent flash of blue light burst out of a nearby hut, sending all of them reeling.

Katara jerked back out of sight. Blue light? That didn’t seem right. All of these people were firebenders, weren’t they?”

“Idiots! How could you let my brother walk right past you?” The girl’s voice paused just long enough to make way for another crashing sound. “He was obviously up to something. If any of you had half a brain, you could have stopped him.”

Brother?

Turning to rest her back against the wall, Katara wracked her memory for every conversation she’d ever had with Zuko. He had a sister, didn’t he? He hadn’t spoken about her much, but Katara was almost certain that Zuko had mentioned a sister once. And even farther back, she thought the general had mentioned having a niece.

Was this her? Had Zuko’s sister come all this way to find him?

An old woman said something low enough that Katara couldn’t make it out before the girl spoke again, her tone unnervingly tranquil after the outburst. “Li, Lo, get these incompetents out of my sight. They don’t know anything useful, and I don’t need them slowing me down.”

The old woman’s voice came again, just as indistinct as before, and Katara leaned to the side, straining to catch even a word of what she was saying.  

“Could have chosen a better time to come snooping around,” a voice from behind Katara’s other shoulder said.

She clapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle a yelp and spun on the spot to find an old Earth Kingdom woman watching her from the nearest doorway. “I—I’m not snooping.” 

“No? Well, then if you’re here to rent a room, I’m afraid you’re out of luck there too. Those lot probably won’t clear out of here until tomorrow at the soonest.” The woman jerked her head to the side, vaguely in the direction of all the firebenders.

“I’m not—no, I’m not trying to rent a room,” Katara said, fumbling over her words a bit. But, she supposed, if people came here to rent rooms often, it could at least explain why all the little houses were so close to identical. She cleared her throat. “Do you run this place?”

“I own it,” the old woman replied, giving her a quick, surveying look. Then, apparently satisfied, she pushed the door the rest of the way open and crossed her arms. “Not much running to do with the Fire Nation types swarming all over the place and scaring off my staff and customers.”

Mouth a little dry, Katara nodded. “So—then you would probably know all the people who have been here recently. Right?”

A frown. “That depends on who you are and who you’re looking for, doesn’t it?” 

Considering the number of firebenders she’d seen already, the mistrust made sense. This woman didn’t know who Katara was, and asking questions while the place was already overflowing with intruders had to be suspicious. The trouble was that Katara wasn’t exactly in a good position to give up information either. If the firebenders were listening in, she might accidentally make everything worse for Zuko and for herself.

“A friend of mine,” she began cautiously. “I’ve been looking for him since we got separated a few weeks back, and I just heard that he was here a few days ago. I was supposed to meet up with him.”

The woman made a slight, skeptical noise, and Katara braced herself for the questions that would inevitably follow. She hadn’t lied about anything, except possibly by implying that she and Zuko had arranged a meeting, but of course she wouldn’t be able to get away with being that vague.

“I’m sorry, but renting two rooms really is entirely out of the question for the moment,” the woman said instead, her voice exaggeratedly loud. “I don’t care how many people you have coming along this afternoon. I just don’t have the staff to accommodate all of you.”

“What? But I said—” Katara cut herself off there when a distant flash of red appeared in her periphery. Right. It was probably best to play along if the firebenders were getting closer. “I don’t need two rooms,” she resumed as seamlessly as possible. “My brother and I can share one. We’ve done it plenty of times before.”

There was an appreciative glint in the old woman’s eyes as she nodded. “Now that changes things a bit. Mind you, it’s still a long shot, but if I can deal with this little pest problem and talk one of my workers into coming back before nightfall, then—”

A series of loud footsteps approached down the wooden walkway, and Katara did her best not to turn toward the noise. She could, however, finally make out what the old woman with the firebenders was saying.

“—would not worry so much if I were you, Princess Azula. Surely, he couldn’t have wandered off more than a few hours before sunrise. Prince Zuko could not have gone far in such a short time.”

Katara’s heart skipped, and her hands tightened involuntarily into fists. Zuko wasn’t here? Objectively, that was probably better than being here and at the mercy of his family, but if he wasn’t here, where could he have gone?

The footsteps kept approaching, and a second, nearly indistinguishable voice chimed in after the first old lady. “Do not forget that he is traveling with General Iroh. That old man is in no condition to keep Prince Zuko’s pace. If they stick together, they cannot have gone far.”

The girl—Azula—let out a high, menacing laugh. “Please, Lo. You can’t honestly think that I’m concerned about Zuzu getting away. He’s not that clever, and he’s certainly not that competent.”

“Certainly not, Princess.” 

“It’s just infuriating to see my own brother behaving this way. Of course he’s been away for a long time, but that shouldn’t mean that he can’t show a little gratitude. I came all this way for him.” A chilling calmness came into Azula’s voice. “This is all for his own good. I will find him sooner or later. And if Father is feeling less generous when we finally make it home, Zuzu can hardly blame me for that.”

“Of course not, Princess,” one of the old ladies said again.  

A long, knobby finger tapped Katara on the shoulder, and it took all her effort to hold back a shriek. Heart racing, she spun back around to find herself face-to-face with a wizened, hunched old woman in crimson robes, and a second, identical old woman standing just a few steps away.

“Excuse me, child,” the first old lady said. “Did you happen to see a young man around here recently? A firebender with a horrid burn scar, and—”  

“Li,” Azula interrupted a little harshly. “Don’t waste time on the peasants. If she’d been here yesterday, I would remember it.”

“Yes, but isn’t it possible that she might have seen Prince Zuko somewhere outside of Chuanxi as he fled?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Azula crossed her arms. Though she was similar to Katara in both height and build, Azula looked remarkably similar to Zuko. The same pale complexion, the same smooth black hair, the same piercing golden eyes, and the same sharp chin. And somehow, the resemblance made the points of contrast—the coldness in Azula’s expression, the rigidity in her posture, the immaculate vividness of her clothes—all the more unsettling. Even before she’d really known Zuko, Katara had been able to see that there was no real aloofness in him. At his worst, he’d been angry and brash. Azula, on the other hand, seemed to have composure of pure steel.

“Have you seen my brother recently?” Azula asked mockingly. “You couldn’t miss him. He would have been running like a scared elephant rat.” Without waiting for a response, she started to turn away again.

Katara’s impulses got the better of her. “And who are you supposed to be? You’re making it sound like I’m supposed to recognize you and care enough to know who your brother is.”

Annoyance flashed across Azula’s face, but it didn’t last long before the steely composure took over again. “See? Useless. We can’t expect the local peasants to recognize their betters. They don’t get much news from the outside world around here.”

“Or maybe we do, and you just don’t matter that much outside of your own fancy little bubble,” Katara countered, almost beneath her breath.

She caught another sharp look from Azula, this one both more angry and more curious than the last. Katara held her ground. She wasn’t planning on turning this into a fight—that would be far, far too reckless for her tastes—but knowing that Azula probably thought she was just some especially bold Earth Kingdom nonbender made it easier to keep her shoulders squared. Azula was a prodigy, she thought she remembered hearing that much from Zuko, but even a prodigy couldn’t have much advantage against a master in an unfamiliar element. Especially if Azula thought that Katara couldn’t fight at all.

With a decisive shake of her head, Azula pushed past, apparently deciding that the insult wasn’t worth her time. “You,” she said, jabbing a finger at the old Earth Kingdom woman in the doorway. “Madame Mi Cha. You know where my poor, deluded big brother has gone. I expect you to tell me everything or there will be consequences.” 

Mi Cha stared impassively at the pointing finger. “Has your brother gone somewhere?”

That, apparently, was a more familiar approach, and Azula’s voice turned high and wheedling. “Come now, Madame Mi Cha, don’t play dumb. It’s unflattering, and we both know that you’re more intelligent than that.” 

“He hasn’t paid me,” Mi Cha said, still perfectly unruffled. “But since he is your brother, I suppose I’ll just have to add the cost of his room onto your bill if he’s really run off somewhere.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just point me in the right direction, then? I can go fetch Zuzu back here and he’ll pay for his accommodations just like he should have done in the first place.” 

“No. It would be simpler if you paid me now.” 

Azula paused, and Katara shuffled just far enough to the side to watch her expression in profile. The coldness, the calculation was still there, but she did seem to be struggling a bit to find the right opening. Like she was convinced that Mi Cha knew exactly where to find Zuko, and if Azula could only pry into the right cracks, she could pull Mi Cha into a game that only Azula could win.

“I am concerned about my poor brother,” Azula said in the same sickly-sweet tone. “He’s been away from home for such a long time that I’m afraid he’s talked himself into some truly ridiculous ideas about me and our father. When I came here to bring him the good news that his banishment was lifted, Zuzu panicked. I’m sure you can understand why I need to find him so urgently. He isn’t rational right now. Anything could happen if I’m not there to look after him.”

“I understand fine. But if you think you’ve paid me enough to care, you would be mistaken. Pay for your brother’s room.”

Azula scowled, but she eventually produced a handful of coins and slapped them into Mi Cha’s hand. “There. Now where is he?”

Katara stiffened a little. If Mi Cha knew where Zuko was, it wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the world. There was a flying bison waiting just on the other side of the bay for her, and she and the others could almost certainly travel faster than Azula and all her soldiers. They could reach Zuko first, if it came to that. But racing against a bunch of firebenders with a sky bison would be risky. Azula would see them, and she had to be smart enough to recognize what a sky bison flying off after her brother probably meant.

That wouldn’t stop Katara, of course. She didn’t savor the idea of painting a target on her own back now that she and the boys were more or less on their own again, but it would be worth it to find Zuko.

Mi Cha took her time counting the coins before she finally spoke again, not looking up from the money. “Funny thing about that boy,” she said. “If he really did leave last night, I didn’t see a thing. He must have slipped out after I went to sleep.”

There was a flash of pure rage in Azula’s eyes. “You greedy old—” She swiped at the coins, but Mi Cha reacted quickly enough to close her hand around the money.

One of the old Fire Nation ladies came forward just far enough to put a hand on Azula’s shoulder. “Princess Azula—”

“Stop it, Li.”

“I’m Lo, Princess.” 

Azula shook her off. “Did I ask for your advice, Lo?”

The identical old ladies responded in unison. “No, Princess Azula.” 

Azula started to turn toward Mi Cha again, but one of the old ladies—Li, probably, though it was a bit difficult to guess since they’d both responded before—spoke up. “Did you notice anything at all unusual last night, Madame? Perhaps you did not see Prince Zuko leaving Chuanxi, but anything out of the ordinary could be helpful.”

Mi Cha pursed her lips. “Not unless there’s something odd about falling asleep quickly.”

At that, Azula perked up ever so slightly. “You fell asleep unusually quickly?”

One of Mi Cha’s eyebrows crept upward.

“It occurs to me that we might share a common interest after all,” Azula said, her voice slipping back into the same sweet, wheedling tone as before. “You see, something similar happened to me last night. But I was lucky. I caught the culprit in the act.” She leaned forward. “It was my own brother. Can you believe that? He poisoned me. And I’m beginning to suspect that he did the same to you.”

That didn’t sound right. Azula was undeniably awful, but it was hard to imagine Zuko poisoning anyone. He had no problem with fighting most of the time. Poisoning just seemed too duplicitous for him. But on the other hand, Azula was standing here, perfectly healthy. If anything had happened to her last night, it probably wasn’t poison. And if Zuko had been desperate to buy enough time to escape, finding a way to knock her unconscious didn’t sound entirely unreasonable.

“He could hardly have done anything to me. I saw him once in the early afternoon, and I didn’t fall asleep until after sunset.” A pause, and Mi Cha’s gaze held perfectly steady. “And if he’s not here, I think you and I have very different ideas of what it means to be ‘caught in the act.’”

There was a slight, displeased twitch at the corner of Azula’s mouth. “A poor choice of words on my part. What I meant to say was that I saw my brother slip something into my teapot.” 

“You saw him put something in your tea and you still drank it?” Mi Cha clucked her tongue and shook her head. “That doesn’t seem entirely wise, does it?” 

While Zuko would have reddened at such an observation, Azula went half a shade paler, and her hands clenched into fists. “I think you’re missing the point here.” She raised one hand, and a flame erupted over her palm. A blue flame. “You have information that I want. Tell me where my brother is now, or I can’t be responsible for what will happen to you or this place.”    

Somehow, Mi Cha still didn’t waver. “If you’re so concerned about your brother, maybe you should just start looking for him. I don’t know where he’s gone. And put that fire away. I’ve lived almost fifty years on this coastline. If you think I can be frightened off so easily, you’ve still got a lot to learn.”

Azula kept staring for several more prolonged moments before she finally whirled around. “Fine. But this isn’t over. If I find out that you’re lying about knowing where Zuzu is, I’ll be back and I’ll burn this place to the ground.” She paused when her gaze landed on Katara again. “You’re still here?” 

It took a bit more effort than she expected, but Katara managed to hold her expression steady. She stared evenly back at Azula. “Of course I am. You interrupted me. I’m not finished with my business here just because some arrogant stranger decided that she was more important than me.”

Azula’s upper lip curled into a sneer, and she looked Katara up and down. “Imagine that. Where could I have gotten the idea that I was more important than a scrawny little peasant?”

That was probably meant to insult her, but Katara couldn’t pretend to feel anything of the sort. So what if Azula underestimated her? Katara had nothing to prove, least of all to an enemy with an overinflated ego.

If they ever ran into each other again, she could prove herself then. For now, getting Zuko back mattered more.

One by one, the firebenders filed after Azula, and Katara watched, lips pressed into a tight line. Then, when she was finally satisfied that they were out of earshot, she turned to Mi Cha again.

“Is she telling the truth? Is Zuko really gone?”  

Mi Cha gave a low hmpf. “Weren’t you listening, girl? I don’t know anything about that boy. And even if I did know where he’d gone—”

“Please,” Katara said, voice soft. “He’s my best friend. He fought at the North Pole with us, and he had to leave with his uncle right after the battle. I’ve been trying to find him ever since then.” Or trying to get people to tell her where to look, at least. If they’d given in and told her the truth from the start, Zuko could have been safe already.

“And what gives you the idea that I would know or care where he’s gone?” There was an edge to Mi Cha’s voice, but it wasn’t quite angry. Suspicious, maybe. And cautious—in fact, it felt a bit like Mi Cha was testing her.

“Master Pakku told my brother that Zuko and his uncle were staying somewhere safe. With one of the general’s friends. That friend has to be you. Please, I just need to know that they’re both okay.”

Mi Cha studied her a few moments longer. Then, “What’s your name, girl?” 

Ordinarily, she might have hesitated longer. Ordinarily, giving her name here, where it could easily mark her as an outsider rather than the normal Earth Kingdom girl she was pretending to be, would have made her wary. But there had to be a reason why Mi Cha was asking her. This time, it had to be worth the risk.

“I’m Katara,” she answered quietly. “I don’t know if Zuko would have mentioned me, but—”

Rather than responding, Mi Cha reached into the folds of her robe to produce a small slip of paper, studied it, then glanced up at Katara again. “Katara, you said?” 

Mouth a bit dry, she nodded.   

“You should’ve come three days sooner. Could’ve beat all this this mess.” Mi Cha inclined her head slightly, motioning Katara closer. “They left last night, the boy and the old man both. The princess was right about that much.”  

“Do you know where they are?” Katara pressed. “They can’t have gone too far since last night. If my friends and I can find them first, we can take them somewhere safe before Azula gets anywhere near them.”  

“How dense are you? Even if I knew for certain, I would hardly say it aloud.” Mi Cha folded the scrap of paper even smaller and passed it across to Katara. “They left this for you. There’s nothing else I can tell you.” 

Breath caught in her throat, Katara glanced over her shoulder to be sure that the firebenders were still out of sight before she unfolded the paper. On the bottom flap, there was a string of familiar-looking symbols—the same navigational shorthand that the general had included in his letters to the North Pole, she thought. She had no idea what it said, but rather than lingering on it, she opened the upper flap to find a few more lines, these ones written in Zuko's even, meticulous hand.

Katara—

I am alive. 

Her stomach twisted, and she folded the note back up. 

Chapter Text

Katara wasn’t talking.    

She had spoken a bit at first—enough to tell them that Zuko wasn’t in Chuanxi anymore, and that while the Fire Nation ship did belong to royalty, it wasn’t the Fire Lord himself—but once the three of them had piled back into Appa’s saddle, she had pretty much gone silent.   

All things considered, Sokka wasn’t too surprised about that. They’d missed out on finding Zuko because they’d followed the lead too late. And although Sokka was still willing to stand by his reasons for waiting, though he was absolutely convinced that both Grumpy Face and his uncle were fine, he could at least understand why Katara wasn’t jumping for joy at the moment.   

It made sense. But that didn’t mean that Sokka liked how weirdly quiet she had become.   

“I still don’t see them,” Aang called back from his place on Appa’s neck. “Are you sure we should keep going east?”   

Sokka shrugged, not looking up from the little scrap of a note that Katara had brought back with her. “East makes the most sense to me. Unless they run into a river or a cliff or something that they can’t cross on foot, I’m assuming they just want to get away from Princess Crazy as fast as possible.”   

“I’m not sure that’s the best nickname, Sokka.”   

Another shrug. “And I haven’t met her yet, so I don’t have a ton to go on. Just working with what I’ve got here.” He frowned at the note again. “Speaking of which, Mister Grumpy really could have done a better job at telling us where to look. For a guy who complained that much about how bad his uncle’s letters were, he’s not a great writer himself.”  

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Aang admonished.    

Sokka knew that. It was sort of the entire point. If insulting Zuko couldn’t get a reaction out of Katara, then something was really wrong. He watched from the corner of his eye as she not-so-subtly ignored him and stared out over the forests passing below. Then, when it became clear that she had no intention of joining back in on the conversation, he pried a pebble from the bottom of his boot and tossed it so that it plinked against her shoulder. “Hey, Katara.”   

“What?” she said, but her voice was subdued.    

“You’re being weird. I just called Zuko a lousy writer, and you barely even noticed.”    

Katara stared at him for a second before she turned to continue searching the ground. “What do you want me to say? The note is four words long. How good could it possibly be?”  

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Are you mad at him or something? I mean—no complaints from me if you are, but—”   

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would I be angry at him? He’s running for his life right now.”  

“Well, you’re acting like you’re angry for some reason. What’s the deal?”  

“I’m not angry, I’m just—” She let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I don’t know if he just ran out of time writing that note or not, but if all he could say was that he’s alive, he’s probably not okay.”  

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”   

“Think about it, Sokka! Who would just say ‘I’m alive’ if everything was fine?”   

“I don’t know. But—to be fair, Zuko is sort of a weird dude.”   

Katara shook her head. “Not like this. It just doesn’t sound like him. Not unless he was planning to say something more than that.”  

From her tone, it was obvious enough that she thought something bad would have followed if Zuko had gotten around to finishing the note. And for all that Sokka knew, she could be right. There weren’t many happy places he could imagine the message going after that start.   

I am alive.   

Though that was roughly the level of awkward vagueness that Sokka would expect from Zuko, he did have to admit that it was weird. Not as weird as the fact that Katara was so upset when Zuko had clearly made it out of Chuanxi in one piece, but still weird. He had to assume that the note was meant to say something like, I am alive, but it’s not safe to stay here anymore. Or maybe something like, I am alive, but we have to go on the run again, and it’s going to be dangerous. Either of those things would make perfect sense. And the fact that Zuko had left out what was arguably the most important part was odd, to say the least.  

“Well, it’s not like it’s going to matter that much longer anyway,” Sokka said, almost under his breath. “It won’t take that long to find him, and when we do, I’m sure I’ll hear a lot more of that conversation than I want to.”  

“What do you mean?” Aang called back. “We still haven’t seen him anywhere, and it’s just going to get harder to search. Right? I mean, he and General Iroh probably couldn’t have gone too far yet, but the more time they have—”   

Sokka waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I get how time works. But what I’m saying is that the old guy told us where they’re planning to go. So even if we can’t find them out here on the road, we’ve got a place to meet up. Worst case, we catch them in a few weeks.”  

Katara sat up straight. “Wait. Is that what the general’s shorthand said?”  

“Yeah,” Sokka scoffed. He rustled through the packs at the back of the saddle until he managed to produce an old, slightly crumpled bit of paper, and spread it out alongside the new note. “Look, right here. These open circle thingies were the full moon, right? And this triangle guy meant that they were going to arrive somewhere.” He pointed out the matching symbols on each of the two letters to illustrate his point.   

She stared at him. “You kept the general’s letter?”  

“Oh, so now it’s weird that I picked up a few things from Zuko’s tent?” He thumped the older letter with his fingertip. “There was a secret code to be learned here, Katara. That’s valuable information.”  

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” she replied slowly. “I’m just surprised. And you’re being weirdly defensive about this.”  

Sokka huffed. He wasn’t being defensive, he just didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea and thinking that he missed Zuko or anything. He didn’t. Except, possibly, for the entertainment value that came from annoying Zuko. That part had always been surprisingly satisfying.   

“Whatever. I’m just saying that the code is perfectly clear. The old guy knows where they’re going, and they’re supposed to get there sometime in the next two months.”  

“Two months?”   

“What else would two full moons mean?”   

Katara groaned and flopped back against the mound of supplies. “Two months is so long, Sokka. We have to find them sooner than that.”   

“Well, obviously we’re going to try. But if that doesn’t work out, it’s not going to be the end of the world. We’ve still got a time and a place to meet up with them later.” He shrugged. “Zuko wasn’t planning that far ahead, but at least the old guy did.”  

For a few seconds, the others were quiet, and it seemed like that was where the conversation would end. Sokka puffed out his chest just a little. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest achievement, but he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for working out the secret firebender navigational code. Sure, he hadn’t been able to guess its meaning back at the North Pole, but he could read it perfectly well now. And that was the part that really mattered.  

But then, after a few long moments, Aang twisted back around to give him a quizzical look. “So where is the place we’re supposed to meet up with them in two months?”  

Sokka’s face heated. “That’s—okay, fine. That’s the one part of this code that I haven’t completely figured out yet.”  

As tired as he was, Zuko didn’t manage to get very much sleep. Shortly after sunrise, Uncle had managed to find a small, rocky overhang along the edge of an overgrown river valley—just wide enough to keep the two of them concealed in shadow through the daylight hours—and they’d spent most of the day there in silence.   

Really, the restlessness didn’t surprise him. Though he and Uncle had walked miles and miles in the dark, following paths that would leave no sign of their passing most of the way, he still couldn’t be certain that it was enough. By now, Azula had to be out there on her komodo rhinos, searching every inch of ground she could cover. And although he and Uncle had come this far without being spotted, though they’d managed to find shelter far from any roads or villages, he kept expecting to glance out into the sun-drenched river valley to find Azula staring back at him.   

It wouldn’t end well this time. She’d underestimated him once, and that small opening had been enough to allow an escape. The next time that their paths crossed, Azula wouldn’t be satisfied with her usual tactics of manipulation and threats. Next time, there would be a fight.  

Still, Zuko kept his back turned toward Uncle and did his best to at least pretend to sleep. For now, there wasn’t much else he could do. It was too risky to travel in the daylight while he and Uncle still wore their not-quite-Earth Kingdom robes from Chuanxi, and while Zuko had enough nervous energy built up to walk for days without stopping, he wasn’t sure that Uncle could say the same. And if Zuko didn’t pretend to get some rest, there would be no end of the worried fussing from Uncle.    

He tried not to pay too much attention as the hours wore on with Uncle occasionally rolling to the side and rustling around to check the map again. Uncle was probably just looking for their first stop on the way to Omashu. Probably debating just how close to civilization they could venture now that the Fire Nation knew that they were alive and on the run.  

Not very much, Zuko suspected. Uncle was one thing. Once he changed his hair out of its usual topknot and found some Earth Kingdom clothes to wear, Uncle would hardly warrant a second glance. Zuko, on the other hand—he remembered just how quickly Hahn had recognized him as an outsider at the North Pole, even despite his disguise, and his insides clenched. He’d been recognized before. Surely it was just a matter of time before it happened again. And this time, unlike last time, there would be no one around to defend them when they were inevitably found out.   

Zuko waited a long while for Uncle’s breathing to deepen into snoring around midday before he finally rolled onto his back and stared up at the low-hanging rocks above him. He should be used to this by now. Before his short time at the North Pole, he hadn’t even known what friendship felt like. Being left with just Uncle by his side should be grounding. Reassuring, even.   

But it wasn’t. Even weeks later, he could feel the void where the others should have been and it hurt, and—   

No. He stopped himself there and took a small, steadying breath. No. It was better that things had turned out this way. Aside from Uncle, he was alone, and as much as that might hurt, it at least meant that he wasn’t putting his friends in any extra danger. Katara had promised to look for him, but time for that had run out. And really, that was for the best. If Katara hadn’t figured out where he was staying, that meant that she wouldn’t have to deal with Azula or the soldiers. So long as she didn’t come looking for him, she and Sokka and Aang could all more or less fade into obscurity. They could finish their training, assemble all the allies they could possibly need, and end the war. And as long as Zuko wasn’t there to draw more attention and trouble their way, everything would turn out fine in the end.   

Right?   

Rubbing his thumb over the beads again, Zuko closed his eyes. Maybe it didn’t make a difference either way. He was never going to know for sure whether his absence made Katara safer or not. What he did know was that no matter where he went, he would never be safe for more than a few days at a time. And even if they found each other again, even if the risk somehow seemed worthwhile, such a short stretch of time could never be enough.  

Everything seemed to take far too long. Every night camping in the forests of the western Earth Kingdom, every morning packing up their supplies, every meal, and every slight detour felt endless.   

But even though they’d already been searching for nearly three days, Katara still wasn’t ready to give up. Zuko was close, she could feel it. They were probably only missing one another by a matter of a few miles or minutes day after day. If they could just search for a little longer every day, she was convinced that they would find Zuko.   

The problem was that as much as she tried to speed through the cooking and the washing around camp, as much as she tried to hustle the boys into setting up and taking their tents down faster, it was never quite enough. Zuko still evaded them, and with every day that passed, she could almost feel him slipping farther away.   

“Would you stop moping and look on the bright side?” Sokka said as he pored over his fifth scroll in a row.  Since he still hadn’t worked out exactly where the general was planning to take Zuko, they’d been stopping in almost every village they passed, looking for any cartographers or scholars who might recognize the symbol in the note.  

As far as Katara was concerned, he was enjoying the research part of their trip a little too much. They wouldn’t have to figure out what the symbol meant if they could just find Zuko and the general. And although she was willing to accept that the little circle with the blacked-in triangle in the middle did probably point toward their best backup plan if they could just figure out what it meant, she would have much preferred leaving the backup plan for when they’d finally exhausted their first plan.   

She glared at him over the top of the scroll she’d been studying. “That’s rich, coming from you, Mister Pessimist.”   

If he heard her, he pretended not to. “I mean, think about it. If we can’t find Red and the old guy when we’ve got the giant flying fluffball on our side, then there’s no way that the crazy lady is going to be able to find them from the ground. They’re being stealthy, that’s all.”   

“I’ll believe that when we find them.” Frowning, she skimmed the last few lines of her scroll before rolling it back up and returning it to the shelf.   

This whole process was maddening. They’d gone over dozens of maps and scrolls, annoyed dozens of villagers, and they still weren’t any closer to working what the general meant. She was beginning to suspect that if the symbol meant anything at all, it was something that the general had made up.  

“Did you guys find anything?” Aang asked, meandering over from the far side of the shop. “The lady over there said the same thing as everyone else. She doesn’t know what this means either.”  

“Nope.” With a loud sigh, Sokka finally rolled up the map that he’d been examining. “I’m starting to think that this place is either too tiny to make it onto any maps, or it’s someplace in the Fire Nation. We would never know the difference. I can’t believe that no one has a single useful map of that place.”   

“I don’t think too many people from around here go to visit the Fire Nation, Sokka.”   

“Yeah, I know that. It’s just annoying, that’s all. Those jerks all have maps of the rest of the world, but we’ve got nothing on them.”   

“It’s not a place in the Fire Nation,” Katara said, not for the first time. “Not unless you think they’ve suddenly developed the ability to walk all the way across the ocean.”  

Sokka made a face at her. “That doesn’t make me want a map of the place any less. It could come in handy someday. We might as well look for that kind of stuff since we’re wandering around all these towns anyway.” Then, slapping the scroll back down on the shelf, he motioned them all out into the street again.   

Katara stretched, taking in an enormous lungful of fresh air when she stepped back out into the sunlit street. Finally. The sooner they could get back up into the air and begin searching again, the better she would feel.   

Though the boys seemed content to dawdle in the street, Katara scooped Momo up onto her shoulder and turned straight back toward the northern end of town where they’d left Appa. Maybe she would try to convince the boys to double back toward the northeast a little—she had a feeling that they’d passed over some of the denser forests in that area a bit too soon. Though Zuko could probably travel surprisingly quickly, the general would be moving a bit slower, and it seemed possible that the two of them might have opted for a more sheltered route to accommodate for that slower pace. She couldn’t imagine them splitting up under circumstances like these. At the very least, they would both benefit from the company and a second pair of eyes to watch out for any signs of pursuit.  

She’d made it nearly half a block before Sokka seemed to realize that she was going on without them. “Hey! Hey, Katara, where are you going?”  

“Back to Appa,” she called over her shoulder, barely slowing her steps. “Where else would I be going?”  

He let out a prolonged groan, and his feet crunched up the street after her until his hand closed around her arm. “Would you relax for a minute? My butt is still a little numb from sitting in that stupid saddle all morning.”  

“Well then maybe you need to try sitting in a different position or something. Come on, we’re wasting time down here.”  

“Nuh-uh.” His grip on her arm still didn’t loosen. “Not yet. I think we need to have a gang-wide meeting before we go flying off again.”  

Aang jogged up to join them, and one of his eyebrows raised at the last sentence. “Since when are we a gang?”  

“Shush.” Fingers splayed out wide, Sokka clapped his whole hand over Aang’s face and pushed him back a bit. “I’m trying out something new here. I don’t need the criticism.”  

While Aang grumbled and made a show of scrunching his face, Katara extracted her arm from Sokka’s grasp and took a step back. “What do you think we need to talk about that urgently? We can talk up in the air too. We do it all the time, remember?”  

Sokka scowled. “We need to talk about the fact that we’re spending so much of our time up in the air when there are other things we should be focusing on too.”  

“Like what?”  

“Like the entire reason we came to the Earth Kingdom, maybe? You know. Finding an earthbending teacher for you two.” He swung his arms out wide enough that he nearly smacked both of them. “We’re already stopping in a ton of towns to figure out where Red is going. We might as well start asking around for some earthbending masters while we’re at it. Right, Aang?”  

Aang tilted his head thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. It could still be a while before we head toward Omashu.”   

“See? That’s exactly what I’m saying. And—you know, searching for Red is fine and all, but that can’t be the only thing we’re thinking about.”  

Katara bristled. They’d already wasted plenty of time with a teacher they couldn’t trust. And if they had to settle down somewhere to start earthbending lessons again, their search would grind to a halt in a matter of days.   

She shook her head. “No. Sokka, that’s not going to work. If we find a teacher somewhere, we’ll have to stop traveling if we want more than one lesson. We need to keep moving, and we can’t just expect some earthbending master to come along with us.”  

“Well, then what would you suggest?” he shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s still a war going on, and we still need the two of you to learn earthbending. It’s not like Aang has been making much progress on his waterbending for the past few days. At least that would be better than nothing.”  

“Then we’ll start on that.” It would probably rob them of an hour or two of searching each day, but if the alternative was settling down somewhere with a master they might not be able to trust any more than Fong, she would take the delay from teaching Aang instead. “Earthbending can wait until after we find Red and make it to Omashu.”   

At least Zuko should be safe there. Bumi was more than a bit eccentric, but he was friends with Aang. Even if Sokka was wrong and Bumi and the general didn’t know each other, Bumi could be reasoned with. He could be persuaded. And if they could convince Bumi to shelter Zuko and the general while the others went through their training, everything would be fine.   

Sokka made a face and started to say something else—probably something about how she’d seemed a lot more enthusiastic about waterbending before they started searching for Zuko—but before he got the words out, Aang interrupted.   

“Wouldn’t it be kind of funny if that’s where Red’s uncle was planning to go anyway? I mean, when I think about it, the symbol does look a little like Omashu. Because all of the buildings kind of go like this.” He brought his hands together to form a sharp upward peak. “And the outer wall is pretty much a circle if you look at it from above.”  

“Oh come on, Aang, that’s—” Sokka cut himself off, and his eyes went wide as the words seemed to sink in. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” After a bit of scrabbling through his pockets, he managed to produce the note again. “Holy ice-bat balls, Aang! Why didn’t you say something about this sooner?”  

“About what? About the fact that Omashu looks like a triangle? You know that. You were there too.”  

“Yeah, but I was looking for official town seals and stuff. How was I supposed to know that the old guy skipped right over all that stuff and started drawing pictures? You’re the one with the knack for nonsense. You should have said something sooner. It would have saved us a lot of time.”  

“Um—” Aang glanced from Sokka to Katara, almost like he was hoping that she would jump in and argue on his behalf. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to speak at all. “But you just said it was nonsense,” he settled with after a moment. “I’m not sure that the symbol is supposed to mean Omashu.”  

“Yeah? Well, I am.” Sokka smacked the paper with the back of his hand. “I mean, think about it. We’re already pretty sure that Red’s uncle knows Bumi. And Omashu is pretty far from the coastline, so it should be a safe place for all of us. And—” He scrunched his face up in thought for a moment. “I’m not sure what the roads are like between here and Omashu, but I think that’s about as far as anyone could get on foot in two months.”  

It made sense. Almost too much sense, once she actually stopped to think about it. Omashu was a long way off, but if they were right and the general and Bumi really did know one another, it might be the safest place in the whole Earth Kingdom for Zuko and the general. And as far as she could remember from their map, there were relatively few cities between Chuanxi and Omashu. Relatively few places where Zuko and his uncle would have to worry much about being recognized and turned over to the Fire Nation.   

It was almost perfect. Omashu was exactly where she and the boys wanted to go anyway. If they were all traveling the same direction, there was every chance that they could find Zuko by accident somewhere along the way. It was almost a guarantee that they would see each other again soon.   

“This basically solves everything!” Sokka crowed. He tossed an arm around each of their shoulders and started back toward the edge of the village, practically dragging both of them along. “We can search without actually searching, you know? And we won’t even have to keep flying in circles to do it!”  

Katara couldn’t do much more than keep walking along with the boys, eyes fixed forward. Sokka was right. She knew that. Sooner or later, they would find Zuko, and then they could all go off to Omashu together.   

But it had already been more than a month since she’d last seen Zuko. And if it took two more months of travel to find him again, things would inevitably be different than they were before.   

What if they were too different?   

What if, after so much time apart, Zuko wasn’t the same person she remembered?   

Chapter Text

Though a small part of her was somewhat resistant to the idea of going back to waterbending training with Aang, Katara had to admit that it felt incredible to connect with her own element again. The river beside their campsite was rapid and cold, and the sound of its rushing just outside her tent all through the night lulled her into a deeper, easier sleep than she’d had in weeks. Even better, the frenzy of nervous energy that had been swirling around in her core for so long finally began to quiet when she ran through all her forms the following morning. The even, flowing motions grounded her, and by the time that she was through, things felt a bit more under control than they had before.  

They were all going to be fine. They would find Zuko and his uncle, make it to Omashu, train with King Bumi, then move on to firebending lessons without even having to leave the city again if they didn’t want to. And sure, some of it might take a very long time, but they’d made it through worse. They could make it through this too.  

She glided through one form after another until her shoulders felt lighter, until her breathing slowed despite the exertion. She was calmer, more balanced than she’d been in ages.  

And when Aang finally came down to the riverbank to start practicing with her, it was almost enough to make her forget the frustration that inevitably bubbled up when his attention and focus began to waver. 

Almost.   

“No, Aang. Try the squid burst one more time. You were almost there, but you really need to keep your elbows in.” She resumed her own stance and waited until Aang mirrored her. “Now do it with me this time.” 

Aang obeyed, but this time, though his right arm stayed in roughly the correct position, his left swung even farther to the side. 

“That’s still not it. Come on, focus on how you’re holding your arms.” 

Without waiting to be prompted, he repeated the form again, his movements just as sloppy. “I don’t get it. The water’s doing what it’s supposed to. Why should I have to worry about where my elbows are?” 

Katara waited until he was midway through the movements to summon up a broad tendril of water just in front of him. Then, when his excessive movement inevitably left his core unguarded, she pushed his chest just hard enough to knock him onto his backside in the river. “That’s why.”  

He blinked up at her, apparently stunned for a second. “Hey! You didn’t say that we were sparring.” 

“We’re not sparring. But if you can’t pay attention and guard your core while we’re just working on your forms, you’re going to leave a lot of openings for people to take advantage of when you actually get into a fight.” She waded across to him and offered a hand. “And we never know when we’re going to run into something dangerous out here.” 

With a groan, Aang accepted her hand and rose. “It’s really hard to pay attention to that stuff, though. It’s all different than airbending.” He pulled most of the water out of his clothes, then stepped back to his place alongside the bank. “How do you do it? I know Pakku always said that your form was really good. Or—at least he didn’t complain about it like he did with me.” 

She shrugged. “Lots of practice, I guess. Between my waterbending lessons and healing lessons and practicing with my scrolls, it would have been a lot more work to not learn the right technique. And since I spent so much of my free time at the North Pole sparring, it was obvious when I was doing something wrong. When you have a good sparring partner, it doesn’t take long to see your own mistakes.” 

She caught a look from Aang—not quite an eyeroll, but near enough to it. 

“What?” 

He jerked back to attention. “Oh! Um—nothing. I was just thinking about how Master Pakku always yelled at me for making mistakes. I knew what I was doing wrong, but he never really explained why I should worry about it.” 

“Right,” Katara said slowly. To her, that sounded like a lie. It sounded like Aang wanted to comment on the amount of time she’d spent training at the North Pole. On how much time she’d spent sparring out on the ridge that overlooked the city, and how Aang had consequently lost a lot of opportunities to practice with her by playing waterbending games.  

But, she supposed, Pakku had never really yelled at her over her bending mistakes the way he’d yelled at Aang. Maybe that was where the strange edge that she sensed in his voice was coming from. Though she was in no mood to be charitable toward Pakku, she could at least acknowledge the fact that the old snow goat had been nicer to her than most of the other students. He appreciated focus and effort, if nothing else. 

“Well—try it again,” she said, shaking herself back to the present. “And guard your core this time, or I might push you into the water again.” 

This time, Aang’s form was, if not quite perfect, then at least much closer. Katara gave him a satisfied nod. For today, at least, that small amount of improvement was probably good enough. If she tried to push much harder on this one point, there was a distinct possibility that she would lose her mind.  

They started back at the beginning of their sequence of basic forms and made it roughly halfway through before Sokka burst out of the trees and practically skidded to a stop at the sight of them both waterbending. 

“Hey,” Sokka shouted across the clearing. “You two aren’t going to soak me if I start packing up camp, are you?” 

“Nope!” Aang called back. “I think we’re pretty much done with practice anyway. Right, Katara?” 

She shot him a look. “When you put it that way, you’re not giving me very much choice in the matter.” 

“Oh. Well, if there’s something else that you wanted us to work on—” 

With a sigh, she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I guess we’ll just start up again later.” Then, after Aang grinned at her and bounded back across the river into camp, she rolled her eyes and turned toward Sokka. “Where have you been? I thought you said you were just taking a potty break.”

Sokka waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I was. You don’t know what kind of potty break I was talking about.” 

“Gross , Sokka.” 

He crouched down by his pack and rifled around until he found the map. “No, I actually climbed up there to see if there’s anything interesting out here.” He motioned up at the rocky spires towering over their campsite.  

Aang’s eyes widened. “You climbed that?” 

“Well, I had Appa take me most of the way up, and I climbed the last few feet. Close enough.” Sokka dropped the map on the ground and closed his pack back up again. “Point is, I did some scouting. And it’s not super urgent, but we should probably pack up and get moving soon.” 

“Why?” Katara asked. “What did you see?” 

It wasn’t that she was opposed to moving on. She wasn’t. As discouraging as their search had been so far, she wanted every moment she could get up in the air. The longer they flew, the better their chances of finding Zuko would be. But this time of the morning seemed a bit early for Sokka’s usual tastes. Early enough to make her suspicious.  

Sokka shrugged. “Nothing major. Trees, mostly. There’s a road that looks like it gets a lot of traffic a little west of here.” Then, lowering his voice, he added in a rush, “Plus there’s a Fire Nation camp about a mile away from here. Lots of red tents and komodo rhinos and stuff. You know. The usual.” 

“What?” Katara whipped around in his direction. “How is that not super urgent, Sokka?” 

He tossed his arms out to the sides. “I mean, it might become urgent if you keep yelling about it! But right now, I’m pretty sure they don’t have any idea we’re here. Believe me, they’re close enough that they could have easily snuck up on us overnight, but they didn’t. Which means that they don’t have any idea that there’s a couple of Avatars hanging out in the woods at the moment.” Then, not breaking his stride, he set to work on dismantling his tent. “If we pack up and get moving soon, things should be fine. We can fly low enough that they can’t see us over the trees for an hour or two, and they’ll never know how close they were. Simple.” 

Though that sounded reasonable enough—they had encountered plenty of Fire Nation soldiers by pure coincidence on their journey north—Katara couldn’t dismiss the creeping sense of unease at the idea that they might be hunted again. She and Aang were still the Avatars. And although things were different now, though Zuko had given up on chasing them, though Zhao was gone, and they hadn’t seen many signs of pursuit since the North Pole, there had to still be firebenders out there who would be more than happy to capture them. Who would haul them back to the Fire Lord without a second thought. 

Or even worse.  

And now, Katara wouldn’t be able to hide as easily as she had before. Now, she wasn’t just a waterbender. The longer that they carried on, the more obvious that fact would become. 

“That doesn’t mean they’re not looking for us,” she said. “Maybe they don’t know where we are yet, but after what Fong saw, it would be weirder if no one was searching.” 

Sokka nodded somewhat gravely. “Yeah. Two Avatars, twice as much reason to hunt us down.”  

“But we’re talking about General Fong,” Aang interrupted. “I know he turned out to be—well, kind of bad, but he really hates the Fire Nation. There’s no way he would tell them about us.” 

“Maybe not, but I’d bet you anything that he’s spreading the news to a lot of other people around the Earth Kingdom.” Sokka succeeded in loosening all the fastenings around the sides of his tent and tossed the tarp to the side so he could start dismantling the poles. “One gossipy lieutenant or one halfway decent Fire Nation spy is all it would take. By now, somebody has to know something.” 

Katara didn’t want to agree with him. Assuming that news of their travels, of her existence had slipped out, was a bit too pessimistic for her liking. It was entirely possible that Fong had kept it all secret. The Earth Kingdom wouldn’t willingly give up that kind of information to the enemy, and Fong didn’t seem like an especially likely target for Fire Nation spies. Still, the fact that there were firebenders nearby wasn’t encouraging.  

“Either way,” Sokka resumed, motioning her and Aang toward the other tent and the rest of their supplies. “We’ve got to move. It really doesn’t matter what those soldiers are looking for. Either way, if they see a sky bison, they’re going to follow.” 

Sokka didn’t want to say that he’d told them so. He had anticipated the fact that the firebenders would chase them. He’d tried to keep Appa low enough to keep them out of sight, but Aang was curious, and Katara wanted to know whether they’d happened across a royal company or an ordinary military division, and Sokka couldn’t entirely blame them for their interest. He’d tried to discourage it, of course, but backtracking half a mile to get a better look didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.  

It did mean that the firebenders had spotted them. And that meant that they’d spent much of the day flying as fast as they could to find a safe place to camp for the night. Still, Sokka couldn’t really blame the others for this. He’d sort of gone along with their idea of investigating the Fire Nation camp.  

But he had told them both that this would happen.  

It was a little hard to keep from blurting that out.  

“Ugh, I can’t believe we still don’t know whether that was Azula’s division or not.” Katara paced on the far side of the campfire, apparently trying her hardest to keep quiet to avoid waking Aang, who had dozed off on Appa’s tail a few dozen paces away. “If we’d just gone a little closer, we would know.” 

Sokka glanced up from the map just long enough to raise an eyebrow at her. “Well, we’re not going back to snoop on them now. So believe whatever you want. As long as we don’t do anything too stupid, we won’t run into them again, and we won’t have to care.” 

“I’m not an idiot, Sokka. It would just be nice to know for sure.”  

“Why?” 

“Because if it’s Azula, she’s probably more interested in Zuko than us. And if it’s anyone else, they probably want to find me and Aang.” 

“Does that matter?” 

He could sense the fury in her expression without looking her way. Great. If she had a problem with that, the rest of his plan would have her absolutely fuming. 

“Of course it matters! If that was Azula, we have to make sure that we find Zuko first.” 

“How?” Sokka rolled the map up and let it drop on the ground beside him. “Think about it, Katara. We’ve been looking for him for days now, and we still haven’t found anything aside from that weird symbol for Omashu. How do you think that’s suddenly going to change just because we might have seen his sister?” 

She crossed her arms. “As if you have any better ideas. What do you suggest? Should we just leave our friend out here to fend for himself against a whole division of soldiers?” 

A shrug. “I mean—yeah, probably.” 

“Sokka!”  

“No, just hear me out. We’re crazy visible when we’re up there on Appa, right?” 

Wordless, she glared at him.  

“And whether those guys we saw today were looking for us or not, they still followed us,” he pressed on. “No matter what, we’re going to attract a lot of attention any time we take off. And if we’re traveling exactly the same direction as Zuko and the old guy, there’s a pretty strong possibility that we’ll end up drawing a load of firebenders straight to them. That princess lady isn’t going to be any good for us if we run into her, and any firebenders who want to catch you and Aang probably won’t be great for those two either.” 

To his surprise, Katara went very still and very quiet for a few long moments. Then, when she finally spoke, the earlier anger and frustration was somehow absent from her voice. “So—if there’s a chance we could be putting them in danger just by traveling the same direction, what are we supposed to do? We’re all trying to get to the same place. If those firebenders try to chase us all the way to Omashu—” 

Sokka shrugged. “I mean—you’re probably going to hate this, but we can travel a lot faster than anyone could on foot. If we wanted to, we could take a pretty serious detour along the way to draw those firebenders off the path and still make it to Omashu ahead of time.” 

“You’re right. I hate it.” But rather than arguing, Katara just sighed and rubbed her forehead before plopping to the ground across from him. “What if it’s already too late? If we’ve been drawing a lot of attention for the past few days, they might already be in danger. And if that’s the case, then we’re probably better off if we keep searching.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes. “I mean, if you want to assume the worst and keep flying around in circles, fine. Maybe we can get a whole army chasing after us in a few weeks.” He leaned back, propping himself on his hands. “Personally, I think it’s better if we either spread out far enough that we’re not all painting targets on each other’s backs or we actually meet up so that we can all travel together and watch each other’s backs. All this wishy-washy stuff where we’re just sort of traveling the same direction isn’t helping anyone.” 

She glared at him. “Brilliant. So you want to find him, but you don’t want to keep looking for him?” 

“Honestly, I’m not that crazy about finding him either. He’s pretty annoying a lot of the time. But—you know. He can be helpful too. And considering all the unwanted company, we’re probably better off if we play it safe. Once we’re sure we can find Zuko, great. Until then, why blow everyone’s cover?” 

That reasoning didn’t seem to make her any happier. But for some reason, she didn’t exactly look angry about it either.  

“I hate this,” she said eventually. “I’m the Avatar. I’m supposed to be able to do more than—” A sigh, and she waved a hand vaguely in the air. Then, “Say I change my mind and agree with you. Where would we go? We still need to get to Omashu one way or another.” 

Sokka’s hands went suddenly, inexplicably sweaty. Which seemed weird. This was the part of the plan that Katara would probably like— there was no reason why explaining it should make him nervous. 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Well—it’s sort of a long shot, but—you remember that map we found a few months back, right?” 

A moment or two passed in silence before she caught his meaning, and when she did, her eyes widened, and she sat bolt upright. 

“Exactly,” he said. He drew in a slow breath. “We’re actually getting really close to the place where we were supposed to meet Dad’s fleet. If we turned west tomorrow morning, I’m sure we could be there in a day.” He paused, and after waiting a few moments for a response, he added, “But if we go that way, we won’t be able to look for Zuko anymore. We can afford a few extra days since we’ve got the flying fluffball, but he and the old guy are going to have to take the shortest route they can to make it all the way to Omashu on foot.” 

For a few more seconds, Katara was silent, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. “Do you think the firebenders would follow us?” she asked, voice quiet as she stared into the fire.  

Sokka shrugged. “Maybe not all of them. Probably depends on how much we show ourselves when we take off tomorrow.” He studied her. “So? What do you think?” 

“I think— ugh. I don’t know yet. Maybe I need some time to think about it.” 

Fine. That was fair enough. Judging by her tone, Sokka suspected that it was just a matter of time before reason set in and she decided that he had a point. That sooner or later, she would realize that it was safer to change course and spend a day or two looking for Dad, even if the search ultimately came up empty. If it took her a few extra hours to settle into that conclusion, that was fine.  

Sokka needed a while to temper his own expectations anyway. If either of them went into this little detour expecting to find Dad still waiting in that same bay, they were probably going to be disappointed.  

Without moving her head, Katara shot a look at him. “How is Aang going to take it if we tell him that we want to go see Dad?” 

Sokka pulled a face. It would probably be better than last time—unless Aang had completely forgotten the lecture he’d gotten after stealing the map and putting them all in danger—but he still wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.  

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “He can take it however he likes. If we decide to look for Dad, we’ll look for Dad.” 

Maybe it was a mistake to bring up Sokka’s plan in the middle of bending practice the following morning. Katara had reasoned that since the idea of looking for Dad set her on edge, it might be easier to broach the topic while she was bending. While her hands and mind were at least partially occupied.  

But it wasn’t helping much. Though Aang took the idea well enough—no resistance, no arguments—something still felt off. And as indistinct as it was, that tension made it much harder to focus both on her bending and on correcting Aang when his form went awry.  

“Whoa, we’re only one day away from that place? That is really close,” Aang said brightly. He managed a decent-enough ice column and swung on into the rest of his sequence without pausing long enough for Katara to offer either approval or critique. “That’s barely anything.” 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “It’s still two extra days of travel at least. And if the fleet is still there, I’m sure we would want to stay a day or two.” 

“Yeah, but Omashu is still a long way from here. It’s probably going to take a couple of weeks to get there. But we have almost two months to go the rest of the way, so a few extra days out there wouldn’t really matter.” A terribly sloppy forked wave slipped into the middle of his sequence, but he moved on so quickly that there was very little chance for Katara to catch him.  

She set her jaw. Yes, bending practice was proving to be a terrible match for this conversation. Still, she’d started it, and it was a little too late to stop now. “So you would be okay with it if Sokka and I wanted to look for our dad, then?” 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Her shoulders tensed. She still wondered about that. Though it had been months now, she still remembered the argument perfectly well. She remembered how flippant Aang had been about learning her element, how willing he’d been to sweep it all aside without actually solving anything. How he’d somehow expected to smooth it all over by hiding the map.  

She remembered, but she couldn’t understand it. How could Aang have ever thought that visiting Dad meant leaving him behind? And more importantly, how could he act like the argument had never happened in the first place? 

“Didn’t you say that your dad doesn’t know you’re the Avatar?” Aang continued, apparently too busy rushing through his forms to notice her hesitance or her expression.  

She nodded a little stiffly. As much as she didn’t want to dig that old argument again, it was difficult to push past the memory. “Yeah. Gran-Gran thought that Dad might get too excited and talk about it more than he should,” she managed. “Me being a waterbender was bad enough. I don’t want to know how many firebenders would have been after me if news had gotten out about me being the Avatar.” 

“I bet that will be exciting! We can tell your dad everything now that you’re a master waterbender.” 

It took a conscious effort to loosen her jaw, and she let out a small breath. “We’ll have to find him first.”  

She still hadn’t given much thought to what that conversation would be like—whether Dad would be excited or worried or upset that it had been so long since Gran-Gran had figured out who she really was, and yet no one had ever bothered to tell him. That probably should have bothered her. Katara probably should have spent more time considering what it would be like to finally see Dad again, to tell him that she was the Avatar on top of everything else.  

But it was hard to worry about anything like that when the search still seemed so uncertain. They knew where the fleet had been months ago, but even the safest stretch of Earth Kingdom coastline wouldn’t stay safe for that long. Not if an entire Water Tribe fleet was hiding out there, using it as a base for attacks against the Fire Nation. Dad was smart. He wouldn’t keep the fleet in one place for this long if it meant putting everyone in danger.  

Still, it was probably safer to veer off toward the coastline again. Much as she hated it, Sokka had a point about the firebenders following them. And if turning back toward the west meant that she wouldn’t see Zuko again for several more weeks, but that he would be safe when they finally met again, she would have to live with the delay. 

Aang made a small, sympathetic noise, but rather than following it with something encouraging or helpful, he just went quiet for a few seconds before launching into a distracted ramble about how there weren’t any elephant koi this far north, but now that he thought about it, there were probably some other types of enormous, relatively docile fish in the area. How, even if the fleet had moved on, there would probably be other things left at the meeting place to make the journey worthwhile. 

It took a considerable amount of restraint to keep from snapping at the suggestion—they weren’t going to the coast to look at interesting fish, and if it turned out that Dad wasn’t there, they wouldn’t be sticking around to play with the fish—but after a slow breath, she managed to rein her temper in. She had agreed to Sokka’s plan, after all. She was about to willingly turn toward the coast along with the boys, knowing full well that Dad might not be there.  

It wasn’t fair of her to be upset with Aang just because he’d found another reason to look forward to the journey. It wasn’t like he was trying to be flippant about looking for Dad.  

He wasn’t. Right?  

Katara pushed them both through a few more waterbending forms before the frustration got the better of her and she had to cut the lesson short. Fists bunched up, she marched back toward camp just in time to catch Sokka lashing his own tent and pack down at the back of the saddle.  

“Hey!” he shouted down to her as she approached her own tent, still waiting to be dismantled. “So what’s the verdict? Are we taking a detour or not?” 

She shot a look back at him. “We’re not going anywhere until we get the rest of camp packed up. Is there a reason why you’re loading up all of your stuff while my tent is still here?” 

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?”   

An annoyed huff. “Aside from the fact that we’re going to have to re-tie everything down once my stuff is packed up? Maybe because we’ve got people following us, and if they ever decide to ambush us first thing in the morning, it would be a lot easier to grab our stuff and escape if the tents were both taken down first.” 

Though there was a flash of something like recognition in his eyes, Sokka just waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I’m a busy man. I can’t do everything at once.” Then, in a much lower voice, he added, “Maybe next time.” 

Katara rolled her eyes and crouched to begin pulling the stakes from the ground. “We’re going to look for Dad. Happy?” 

Sokka didn’t respond. Or, at the very least, he didn’t respond in anything resembling coherent words. But judging by the speed at which he launched himself out of the saddle and into a weird, disjointed dance, he was far beyond happy. Katara just wished that she could share in that enthusiasm. 

Chapter Text

Katara could see why Dad had chosen this place. Though the bay was relatively broad at the back, the mouth was both too long and too narrow to admit any vessels larger than the ones in Dad’s fleet, and sheltered by steep slopes on almost every side. From the sea, the bay was nearly invisible. It would have been an excellent base and rendezvous point for a fleet of small ships like Dad’s.

The trouble was that even from far, far up in the air, it was obvious that there was nothing and no one left behind there. No ships, no tents, nothing. After they’d landed, Katara turned on the spot, half numb, and scanned the ground around them. Though there were no tents or ships left behind, and the tide had clearly come and gone many times since anyone else had set foot here, there were still traces left behind farther up from the shore. Footpaths worn into the grassy slopes, stones piled up into campfire rings, and patches of earth deliberately smoothed to make way for tents.

It looked a lot like the campsites that she and the boys left behind, only much, much bigger.

“I’m seeing twelve of these marks,” Sokka called from a bit farther down the beach, where he’d been examining some of the trees with strips of bark worn completely smooth. “This must be where they tied up the ships. And if there were twelve, that should be the whole fleet, Bato’s ship included.” He looked off toward the mouth of the bay for a moment. “I guess that means they’re still together. Or they were up until they left.”

That was at least a small comfort, she supposed. If the fleet was still together, it probably meant that they were all okay. That Dad was okay. But spirits only knew whether that would still be the case when they finally found the fleet again.

If they ever found it again.

“The whole fleet is only twelve ships?” Aang called from the other side. He straightened up from examining an abandoned fire ring, and Momo scrabbled at his bald head to keep from falling off. “That sounds really small.”

“You’ve seen our village, Aang. How big were you expecting it to be?”

“Your village had twelve ships?”

Sokka groaned. “No, Aang. All the villages at the South Pole had to band together to get a fleet going. Twelve was just the number of ships that we had enough people for.”

“Oh. Well, then I was right the first time. Twelve ships is a really small fleet to be fighting against the Fire Nation.”

“Sure, but they’ve still got all twelve ships. Dad really knows what he’s doing.” Sokka’s voice was low, and his tone solemn. “Most people probably couldn’t have kept them together for this long.”

Katara couldn’t bring herself to stay still any longer, and she wandered up one of the paths to where the tents must have sat. Though she could still see rough, rectangular outlines on the ground, the vegetation that would have been crushed by the tents and sleeping mats was straightening again, slowly filling in the now-empty spaces. Alongside one of the larger fire rings, there was a small mound of pale wood shavings where one of the men must have sat as he whittled, and next to another, she found the remnants of what might once have been a makeshift roasting spit.

They weren’t coming back here, she could tell that much by the fact that the camps had been cleared away so thoroughly. If this was a base that Dad meant to use again, there would be supplies left here, maybe a mound of firewood at the edge of the clearing, or a stack of dismantled snares and fishing nets ready to be set back up once they returned. There was none of that. No reason to think that Dad or anyone else meant to use the bay as a base ever again.

Still, that didn’t stop her from imagining what it must have been like a few weeks ago. Once he’d returned, Bato probably would have spent a good deal of his time around the fires, making sure that there was enough smoked fish and meat to keep the fleet fed. The man who’d lived in the next tent down from Gran-Gran’s probably would have spent much of his time weaving rope and repairing nets—he’d always been good at that. And the man who’d lived just west of the council hut probably filled his hours with boisterous laughter and surprisingly delicate work on new bone tools, just like he’d done back home.

She could practically see them all, milling around camp and making preparations for their next battle, though the faces were somewhat hazy in her mind. It was even easier to summon up a memory of the sort of noise that usually filled a camp like this—fires crackling, men talking and laughing, maybe even singing if the mood struck them.

And Dad—Dad had always liked whittling. A few weeks ago, he probably sat right there in front of where she stood now, carving new spears to be fitted with whatever type of tips they’d been using this far north.

Katara found herself drifting closer to that spot, and although she was fully aware that she was alone up here, that Dad and everyone else was long gone, she still reached her hand out as though she might be able to touch Dad’s shoulder. And when her hand passed right through the empty air, her throat went tight. With a slow, unsteady exhalation, she crossed her arms.

Somehow, as disappointed and upset as she was, she couldn’t actually bring herself to cry.

“You worry too much, Nephew.” As they took another corner in the path down into the river valley, Uncle sent a glance back over his shoulder. “I believe that we would fit into an Earth Kingdom city quite well.”

Zuko made a face. Thanks to one of Uncle’s acquaintances, they’d managed to procure Earth Kingdom disguises a few days ago, but he still didn’t like their odds of blending in. Fortunately, they hadn’t really needed to venture into civilization so far—one stop for clothes and provisions in the dead of night probably wasn’t enough to put Azula on their trail—but he could sense an odd sort of restlessness in Uncle that probably meant it was just a matter of days before Uncle decided to turn toward some city or other.

“We’re still firebenders,” Zuko said, following a step or two behind. “I wouldn’t count on blending in anywhere.”

Uncle waved a dismissive hand. “Very few people will ever look beyond clothing and hair. Now that we are dressed appropriately, no one is likely to pay us any attention.” Then, after a short pause, he added, “Except, possibly, for some young ladies. I’m sure many of them will be quite taken with you.”

Zuko shot him a glare. “Uncle.”

“Am I mistaken?”

A sigh. Obviously, the answer was yes. Nobody was ever going to look at Zuko and swoon, but saying as much felt too much like inviting Uncle to continue the subject. Too much like inviting Uncle to speculate about his romantic future and meddle any time a girl so much as looked his way. And Zuko could hardly think of a single thing he wanted less than Uncle’s meddling.

“I don’t want any attention from young ladies around here,” Zuko said a bit stiffly.

“I see. Then you must have another young lady in mind.”

“Uncle! No, I just—” He had to stop himself long enough for a steadying breath. “I don’t want any attention. From anyone. Anyone who sees my face is going to talk about it whether they like me or not, and Azula will probably find out where we are within a day or two.”

“Ah.” Uncle went a bit more solemn. Then, “We cannot hide forever, Nephew. I understand your concern, but the war has reached farther than you probably realize. Scars are not uncommon.”

Zuko shot a look out of the corner of his eye. “If that’s your way of saying that we’re going into some big city tomorrow, I’m not convinced.”

Uncle chuckled. “No, nothing like that. I expect that we will reach our first destination before tomorrow evening, but I can hardly consider it a city, much less a large one.”

Zuko ducked under a low-hanging branch. “So one of your Pai Sho friends lives in a village, then?”

“I have not been there myself, but I understand it is a bit more unusual than that. In any case, there is very little danger of being recognized by anyone who would be inclined to spread news of any kind back to Azula.”

Zuko grunted. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Uncle, but their last stay with one of his friends didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Uncle’s friends, well-intentioned or not, seemed sketchy at best.

“How do you know that if you’ve never been there?” he asked, eyes fixed on the path ahead. “How well do you even know this person if you’ve never been there before?”

“Quite well. One can learn a great deal about a person through active correspondence.”

“Right. So you knew that Master Pakku was awful before we got to the North Pole?”

Uncle was quiet for a moment. “I did not know that he would push us to leave so quickly, but I suppose I didn’t realize that there would be any reason to do otherwise. I had gotten the impression that he was rather—unrelenting, though.” He paused long enough to give Zuko a meaningful look. “But the situation with Jeong Jeong is quite different. I have not seen the place where he lives now, but there was a time when we knew each other in person.”

 Zuko narrowed his eyes. For some reason, that name was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. The name sat just a little too far out of his reach, and if he could only stop for a moment to think, he was almost positive that he could dredge the memory back up.

Unfortunately, Uncle resumed a bit too quickly for that. “He will not betray our location, I have complete faith in that. And in any case, I do not intend to stay more than three or four days.”

“Why would we need to stay more than one or two?”

“I still have not heard anything from my friend in Omashu. I hope that staying a few days with a mutual friend will allow enough time for a message to arrive.”

With a sigh, Zuko rolled his eyes. Fine. That was a better reason than he expected, and the fact that Uncle didn’t plan to stay more than four days at least put a definite end in sight. But the name Jeong Jeong still niggled at him, and now that Uncle had broken into his train of thought, Zuko couldn’t find the threads back to wherever he’d heard the name in the past.

“Jeong Jeong isn’t an Earth Kingdom name, is it?” he ventured after a moment. There were probably better questions to ask, but he didn’t quite dare to venture any further than that. It felt risky to say more—to imply that he remembered more or less than he should.

“It is not,” Uncle answered. He shot a look back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised as though waiting for Zuko to ask more questions.

Zuko had no intention of asking anything more. If Jeong Jeong was someone he was meant to remember, Uncle was probably hoping for an enthusiastic response that Zuko just couldn’t muster at the moment. And if he wasn’t supposed to remember Jeong Jeong, Uncle was probably fishing for an opportunity to soften him up.

That wasn’t necessary. Zuko was fine with staying somewhere a few days if it seemed relatively safe once they arrived. If it wasn’t safe, Uncle would probably decide to leave of his own accord, or Zuko could talk him into it. And if the visit turned out to be safe but miserable—well, as far as he was concerned, it was better not to know that until they arrived. It wasn’t like he had much choice but to stick with Uncle anyway.

She wished that she could be surprised. More than almost anything, Katara wanted to expect better than this, but she couldn’t. By now, it felt inevitable.

“I can probably do a little fishing tomorrow morning,” Sokka said flatly. There was a scuff as he kicked a pebble toward the fire ring. “Two or three days’ worth of food if I get really lucky. It’s not gonna make this whole thing worthwhile, but—”

Katara could only manage a grimace by way of acknowledgement. As reasonable as it was to make what they could of this useless trip to the coast, as much as catching a bit of extra food while they were here made sense, it was almost impossible to break her attention away from the beach. Aang had wandered off to the shoreline almost as soon as they finished eating, and even now, with the sky growing dark, he was still entertaining himself by throwing rocks into the sea and searching for animals to play with.

She should have known that this would happen. She should have known that Aang would never be able to take this seriously, that the fact that she and Sokka were disappointed and upset about not finding Dad wouldn’t be enough to keep him from treating this all like a game.

“Hey.” Sokka snapped his fingers at her a few times. “Are you even listening?”

Katara tore her gaze away from the beach and met his eyes for a second. “You’re going to go fishing tomorrow morning. I heard you.”

“Sure. Barely.” With an exaggerated sigh, he spun on the spot and flopped onto his backside. It looked like that probably hurt, but his expression didn’t so much as waver. “What’s going on? You’re being all weird and quiet.”

“Are you trying to imply that I’m usually obnoxious?”

He shrugged. “Obnoxious is a relative term. It kind of depends on the day.”

“Thanks a lot.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and her eyes drifted involuntarily back toward the beach again. Aang was still down there, still cheerfully poking at tidepools with a stick. Her jaw tightened, and she dragged her eyes back toward the campfire before her temper could boil over. It wasn’t quite fast enough, though, and her voice burst out against her will. “Did Aang ever apologize?”

Sokka stared at her for a second, then glanced toward the beach, then looked back at Katara again. “What?”

“About the map. I wasn’t there, remember? I mean—I assume you two talked about it while I was gone, but I’ve never heard anything about it.” She clenched her hands into fists, focusing on the pressure to keep herself from turning to stare at Aang again.

“Oh. That.” Sokka sighed again and leaned back on his hands. “Yeah, we talked about it.”

“What did he say?”

A shrug. “A bunch of things. He got this stupid idea to rescue you on his own in the middle of the night and went after the wrong Fire Nation ship because he thought bringing you back would fix everything. He thought I was mad about the map thing, and—I mean, I was, but there were more important things to worry about, you know?”

Katara frowned. It made sense. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it did make sense. If she’d been too occupied with trying to escape from Zuko’s ship to think much about what had come before, it was only natural that the boys had been preoccupied as well.

“I guess he somehow convinced himself that we couldn’t visit Dad and stick together at the same time,” Sokka added. “Which—considering all the detours we took for him after we left home, I don’t see how he got that idea.”

“I remember that part.” She exhaled and fidgeted with the end of her braid. “But did he ever apologize? It just seems like he’s still not taking this seriously, and—”

Another shrug. “Sort of. He stopped running off to chase Fire Nation ships in the middle of the night afterward, so he must have taken it somewhat seriously.” For a few long moments, Sokka went quiet, then there was a small flurry of movement and a pebble bounced off of Katara’s shoulder. “Why? Does it matter?”

Scowling, she rubbed the spot where the pebble had made contact. “You tell me. He tried to keep us away from Dad once, he sort of apologized for it, and now he’s—” She waved a hand vaguely toward the beach. “Maybe if I’d been there and actually heard his apology, I could believe that he wouldn’t do it again. But this isn’t helping. He’s been acting like this is all a game, and I can’t tell if that’s just him or if he’s happy that Dad isn’t here.”

One of Sokka’s eyebrows crept upward.

“Forget it.” With a sharp exhalation, she stood. “If you think I’m being crazy, I don’t need to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I can see your face. You don’t need to say anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was going to say that talking to Aang would be more useful than asking me all of this stuff, but if you want to put words in my mouth, go for it.”

“And how do you think that conversation would go? The last time I got upset with him, he hid the map to Dad’s fleet, and I got captured. Aang doesn’t deal with things well when I’m angry at him.” Katara tried to resist glancing toward the beach, and when the urge was too strong, she crossed her arms tight across her chest. She missed having the freedom to argue, having someone who wouldn’t just buckle at the first sign of displeasure and grasp for the easiest way out. She missed the friends who were willing to disagree with her, who would rather be honest than give in just to end even the smallest disagreement.

That would all come back once they reached Omashu, she knew that. But for now, while she was still on the road with Sokka and Aang, while she had to keep a lid on her emotions to keep from driving Aang away, it was hard not to long for those days back at the North Pole.

Sokka shrugged. “I made him cry when I yelled at him for his stupid rescue plan, and things turned out mostly fine. I think he’d live.”

Somehow, she doubted that it would be the same if she spoke up. Aang expected bluntness from Sokka. Katara, on the other hand—maybe she’d been too pliant, too easygoing from the start. Maybe that was why Aang was so eager to redirect whenever she showed any sign of displeasure.

She started to say as much, but before the words could make it out of her mouth, a flicker of movement on the beach caught her eye. Aang had straightened up from playing in the tidepools, and he was finally making his way back up toward camp.

Her mouth clamped shut and her hands tightened back into fists. She couldn’t talk to Aang about this. Not now. Not even if Sokka pushed her toward it.

“Hey, guys!” Aang bounded the last few steps into camp. “Is there any soup left over? I’m kind of hungry.”

Sokka wrinkled his nose. “Dude, you smell like rotting fish. I thought I told you to keep your hands out of the tidepools.”

“How do you know if I smell? I’m too far away.”

“Believe me, I can tell. It’s like a sixth sense.”

Katara sat up a little straighter. Aang had come right up beside her, and if he did smell, it was a slight enough odor that she couldn’t detect it. “Smell is one of the normal five senses, Sokka.”

“But knowing that someone stinks without even smelling them isn’t. That’s just a skill I have,” Sokka said. He fixed Katara with a look. “Isn’t there something you were going to say?”

She glared back at him. No. Among other things, she didn’t even know how to begin the subject yet. And even if she knew what to say, there was no way she was going to have a conversation that serious in front of Sokka.

Aang didn’t seem to notice the fact that Sokka was looking at her, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Well—I’m not sure how much it matters, but I did find something down on the beach earlier this evening.”

Sokka cocked his head to the side. “Uh—are you gonna tell us what it is?”

“Yeah.” Looking sheepish, Aang reached into his pocket and produced a short, carved tube of bone. “It’s this.”

For a few seconds, Katara could do nothing but stare. She hadn’t seen that particular tube before—or at least she didn’t think that she had—but the shape, the darkened etchings on the surface of the bone, were very familiar. Her insides clenched. Not again.

Sokka pushed off of the ground and reached for the tube. “Give it.”

Aang handed it over without protest. “I was going to give it to you in the morning. I just thought that it’s been a long day already, and it might be—”

“Not now, bud.” Brows furrowed, Sokka pulled the tube open and scanned the coiled scrap of sealskin that fell out into his lap. Then, after a few long seconds of silence, he sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re going north, and we’re going south. It could take months to find them even if we dropped everything else.” He stuffed the sealskin back into the tube and tossed the whole thing across to Katara. “Here. I’m going to bed. We’ll get moving again tomorrow morning.”

Katara could feel Aang watching her, could sense him searching for something to say. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Instead, she closed her hands tight around the tube and marched off toward her own tent.

“Unless I am very much mistaken,” Uncle said, keeping his voice low, “we should reach our destination soon. Before nightfall, at the latest.”

Frowning, Zuko glanced at Uncle, then scanned the forest around them again. As confident as Uncle seemed, he had his doubts. They’d been walking through dense forests for the better part of three days, and Uncle’s map didn’t show anything at all in this area. Even if there was some sort of settlement too small, too insignificant to warrant a mention on a map out here, their chances of finding it seemed thin.

That didn’t bother Zuko too much. As much as he doubted that they would find anything out here, they were at least isolated enough that he didn’t have to worry about being found. On the other hand, being this lost didn’t bode especially well for their ability to resupply when their food ran low. They could probably make it another week or so on the provisions they already had, but at this rate, a week didn’t seem like much time at all.

“It will be a pleasant break, don’t you think, Nephew?”

Zuko grunted. “That depends.”

“Depends upon what?”

A small sigh. “On what this place is like. What your friend is like.” He paused for a moment and allowed his voice to drop. “If there’s actually anyone out here.”

Uncle turned a glance in his direction. “You have doubts?”

“Well—look around. This isn’t exactly the sort of place where most people would live.” Zuko didn’t really want to accuse Uncle of getting them lost—yet—but it seemed fairly likely. And if they made it to the end of the day without finding any signs of civilization, Zuko would probably lose the last scraps of restraint he had and begin shouting about it.

“I have never claimed that Jeong Jeong is like most people. You will see soon, I expect.”

Another grunt. Great. ‘Not like most people’ sounded like Uncle’s way of saying that the man was crazy.

They continued walking for what seemed like another mile, with Uncle occasionally prodding him for some sign of curiosity or optimism. Zuko refused to oblige. They were traveling together, and Zuko hadn’t done too much complaining yet. What more did Uncle want from him?

But then, when Zuko finally grew irritated enough to consider saying as much, there was a rustling sound from the bushes by the side of the path, and an unkempt-looking man peered out at them from the foliage.

“Hey,” the man said. “Who are you two? How’d you find us?”

Zuko stopped walking and blinked a few times. Great. They’d found someone, but a crazy man sticking his head out of a bush wasn’t what he’d expected. It was probably worse.

Right? It was hard to determine where exactly to rank a man standing in a bush.

Ugh, what if this was the Jeong Jeong person they were supposed to meet?

Uncle stopped as well, looking pleased with himself, and bowed to the stranger. “Ah. I see that we have come the right direction after all. My nephew was beginning to have doubts.”

The stranger took a small, wary step back. “The right direction for what? There’s nothing out here. I didn’t mean—”

“I am an old friend,” Uncle interrupted cheerfully. “My nephew and I have been traveling for quite some time, and I thought a visit might make for a pleasant break from our journey.” Then, when the stranger just kept staring, he added, “General Jeong Jeong should have let you know that he was expecting visitors. Did he not?”

The stranger frowned. “He said that someone might be coming. He didn’t say that we should let anyone in.” He stopped there, looking a bit puzzled. “Why am I telling you that? Jeong Jeong didn’t want us talking to any outsiders.”

Zuko made a mental note to remain as silent as possible for however long they had to stay out here. If these were the sorts of people who Uncle’s friend saw fit to surround himself with, then anything Zuko said would probably spread halfway around the world within a week.

“Ah, but I imagine that would change somewhat if that outsider was an old friend. If you wish, you may go ahead without us to inform Jeong Jeong that General Iroh has come to visit. I am certain that he will make an exception.”

Zuko’s insides clenched, and he whipped his head around to glare at Uncle. Was he insane? Revealing themselves to one of Uncle’s Pai Sho friends was one thing—they probably already knew every move that Zuko and Uncle made thanks to Uncle’s letters—but this man seemed insane.

Before he could say anything, though, the strange man’s eyes went wide. “General Iroh? You—are you the General Iroh I’m thinking of?”

Uncle smiled. “I cannot read your mind, but I have to assume so. I am not aware of any other generals who share my name.”

“Well, fuck.” The stranger stumbled a bit on his way out of the bushes, and stared, wide-eyed at both of them. “Then—sure, I’ll take you right to Jeong Jeong. I didn’t realize that you were one of us.”

One of us?

Zuko narrowed his eyes. At first glance, he’d assumed that this man was Earth Kingdom—out here in the middle of nowhere, that was what made the most sense. But when he looked again, there was a slight, coppery glint in the stranger’s eyes and a narrow scrap of faded, stained red cloth poking out from beneath his dark brown tunic.

One of us.

If that was true, then Uncle had to know it. And since Uncle didn’t seem the least bit surprised or worried by the fact that this man was presumably a firebender, there had to be some reason to expect it. More firebenders to be found out here in the middle of nowhere, but not firebenders who had any loyalty to Father.

Deserters, maybe? But that wasn’t supposed to be possible. No one was supposed to have ever survived leaving the Fire Nation military behind.

Right?

The stranger fumbled for a few seconds before he introduced himself as Chey and motioned for them both to follow him farther into the forest. He didn’t ask for Zuko’s name, which felt odd, but realistically, there wasn’t much need for it. Anyone who knew anything at all about the royal family could guess who Zuko was by association.

His hands clamped down on the straps of his pack. This could be worse than he thought. Much worse.

For what felt like half an hour, they continued walking in silence before Zuko began to notice small signs of human life—trees cut short in the middle of nowhere, groves of what looked like semi-wild crops, and then at long last, pieces of clothing hanging up on cords strung between the trees. There had to be enough food growing, enough clothes drying to account for at least fifty people out here—not a city, not even a village, but still a far larger settlement than he’d been expecting. And sure enough, as they carried on, the forest opened up to reveal an array of faded tents and lopsided shacks.

Chey finally motioned for them to stop in front of a slightly sturdier shack, and once he disappeared inside, Uncle turned to Zuko with a smile. “Not a bad place for a few days of rest, is it, Nephew?”

Zuko could only grimace. “This seems like a bad idea.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Everything. The firebenders camped out in the middle of nowhere in the Earth Kingdom. The fact that they’d come to meet a general—or at least a former general. The fact that Uncle had given Chey his name, which meant that everyone else here would know about both of them in a matter of hours.

“Are you sure there’s no one else who could get in contact with your friend in Omashu?” he asked instead.

Uncle made a thoughtful sound. “There may have been one or two others, but you must understand—”

Before he got any further, Chey emerged from the shack again, and a second, slightly taller man with a dramatic shock of white hair followed a second behind.

Uncle broke off and gave the second man a cheerful wave. “It has been too long, General Jeong Jeong.”

“Prince Iroh,” Jeong Jeong replied, voice absolutely flat. “I thought I told you never to bring the boy here.”

Zuko felt his whole body tense. Great. This was all getting worse and worse.

“I remember, General,” Uncle said firmly. “But we are both here now, and I believe that you had agreed to speak with me the last time we wrote one another. Perhaps we might have a word in private before you make any rash decisions about my nephew.”

After a long, tense moment of silence, Jeong Jeong gestured toward the door of his own shack. “Make it quick.”

Chapter Text

Ouch.

Katara lay flat on her back for a second, staring up at the dense canopy of branches above her. She was okay. Mostly. Plummeting from the back of Appa’s saddle and into the middle of a swamp didn’t feel good, but as far as she could tell, she wasn’t actually hurt. Nothing worse than bruises, at least.

With a small groan, she pushed herself up and squinted at the patches of sky that she could see through the trees. Though it wasn’t exactly sunny, the sky was still bright through the clouds, and she couldn’t see or hear any sign of the wild column of wind that had knocked her from Appa’s saddle. Worse, there was no sign of either Appa or the boys.

Slowly, she exhaled and pulled a bit of murky water from the nearest puddle to clear the bruises from her back. She didn’t know where she was exactly—after their fruitless detour toward the coast, Sokka had aimed them almost directly for Omashu, but even such a direct route would have them on the road for another week at least. They were miles and miles from the coast before the fringes of this dense, swampy forest came into view, and many miles further than that before the strange gusts had overtaken them. As far as she knew, there might be nothing but swamp and forest for days in any direction.

Another exhalation. In the chaos of the almost unnatural wind, she hadn’t been able to see much, but she remembered Sokka screaming for Aang to either fly faster or land before they all got killed. She couldn’t be certain whether either of the boys had managed to keep their grip on the saddle, whether Appa had managed to stay in the air, but regardless, she was on the ground. If the boys had fallen, they were down here too. And if they hadn’t, they would be searching for her anyway. Which meant that the best thing she could do was to find someplace high up, someplace visible, and wait until she caught a glimpse of them.

As calmly as she could, Katara stood and did her best to clean the mud from her tunic and pluck the leaves and twigs from her hair. There was no need to panic. Sure, the wind that had knocked her from the sky was wild and unexpected. Sure, she was at least slightly lost in a dense tangle of swampy forest, and she wasn’t sure where either of the boys or Appa were. But she could handle this. She could find them.

She turned on the spot, scanning across the stagnant ponds and gnarled, moss-covered trees that surrounded her. Of course, the fact that she couldn’t tell which direction was which might complicate things. The swamp was so dense that by the time she had turned back around, it all looked unfamiliar again.

“Guys!” Katara called out into the trees. “Sokka! Aang! Where are you two?”

Aside from the soft buzzing of bugs and a few chirping noises from birds high up in the trees, the swamp remained eerily quiet.

Where on earth were they? Or, more importantly, where was she?

Stupid swamps. Sokka was trying—well, he wasn’t trying especially hard, but he was trying a little—to maintain a scrap of optimism. He was.

But plummeting into a swamp from way up on Appa’s back didn’t exactly incline him toward optimism. Sure, Sokka was mostly fine after the fall. He’d landed in a deep, stinky, murky pool of water, and aside from the fact that he was soaked to the skin and covered in a thick, greenish brown mud, there was nothing wrong with him. And considering the number of branches he’d crashed through on his way to the ground, that was a little remarkable.

Still, they’d just started to make progress on their journey again this morning. After all of their fruitless searching, first for Zuko, then for Dad, they should have had at least one thing go right. And a shortcut to Omashu really seemed like an easy win.

Or it had up until that crazy column of wind knocked Katara out of the saddle and shook Sokka free a second or two later. Now, he was beginning to wonder if there was some crazy spirit out there who really didn’t want them to get to Omashu.

Scowling, Sokka trudged out of the water and scraped as much mud as he could from his clothes with a stick. He probably should have been more worried than annoyed—he couldn’t see either Katara or Aang anywhere nearby, and he wasn’t entirely sure where they would have landed—but considering the fact that he was fine, the others had to be as well. After all, Aang had his airbending to break the fall, Katara had her waterbending, and they both had the Avatar State. If they couldn’t make it to the ground in one piece when Sokka had made do with crashing down through the trees and landing in a bunch of mud, then there were other problems to worry about.

But he was sort of lost in the middle of a swamp, so there were plenty of problems to deal with already. It wouldn’t be that strange if a bunch of other stuff went wrong too.

After he’d scraped off as much mud as he could—or as much as seemed reasonable while he was still stuck in the swamp—he tossed the stick into the water and patted his pockets to check for any supplies that had survived the plummet to the ground with him. His small whittling knife had stayed securely in his right pocket, and his boomerang was still strapped in place on his back, but beyond that, nothing.

Great. If he had no other choice, he supposed that he could probably make do with just the knife and boomerang—as long as he could carve a fishing spear or knock a few birds out of the sky, he wasn’t in any danger of starving. But the fact that he didn’t have any way to start a fire or signal to the others was significantly less encouraging. What was he supposed to do until he found them? Just wander aimlessly through the swamp? He’d had more than enough swamp-wandering to last his entire lifetime when he got sucked into the Spirit World near Senlin. He didn’t need to start that nonsense again.

But he couldn’t just stand here either. They had a journey to continue and a crazy earthbending king to meet up with. And whatever spirity nonsense was going on here was not a good enough reason for delay.

“Sokka! Aang!” Katara called out again after she managed to scrabble her way up to the top of a great, arching root. “Appa! Momo! I’m here! Where did all of you go?”

Again, there was no answer. Though she could see much farther from this height, her voice didn’t seem to carry any better than it had on the ground. If anything, it felt like an invisible hand was snatching her words away almost as soon as they left her mouth to keep anyone else from hearing her. At least on the ground, she’d been able to hear her own voice bounce back off of an enormous nearby rock. Up here, even shouting at the top of her lungs felt futile.

Exhaling slowly, she held her arms out for balance and turned slowly on the spot, searching the forest floor once again. There was the spot where she’d first landed, now strewn with broken sticks, and a set of obvious footprints leading up to the place where she’d climbed up the root. And out beyond that—more of the same. The same pools and streams of water that looked like they might not have been disturbed in weeks or months, the same muddy strips of earth between the water, the same overgrown ferns and beds of moss, and not much else. No bright flashes of blue or yellow cloth, no hints of white fluff that might have belonged to Appa or Momo, nothing.

What now? Carefully, she planted her feet, hoping that the greasiness of the mud still clinging to her boots wouldn’t send her sliding back down off of the root. She was probably just imagining things when it came to her voice dying out quicker than usual, but even so, it wouldn’t do her much good to yell herself hoarse if the boys weren’t nearby. And although Gran-Gran had always told her to stay put and wait to be found if she got lost, that advice wasn’t likely to do her any good out here. As far as she knew, the boys were lost too, and it wasn’t like there was anyone else who could realize that they’d gone missing and search for them.

So staying still wasn’t really an option. She had to find the boys. Which was going to be difficult if she couldn’t figure out which direction was north or south, much less which direction Sokka or Aang might have gone after she landed. If finding them was her only goal, she would very likely end up wandering in aimless circles for days on end.

She needed a destination to aim for, and since she didn’t know where to look for the boys, looking for signs of civilization or a way out of the swamp would probably be her best bet. If she could find anyone else out here, surely someone would help her find her friends, and if she couldn’t, the boys would have to make their way out of the swamp sooner or later.

Right?

A slow exhalation, and she turned one more time, scanning the ground again. If she squinted, she thought she could make out a slightly darker ribbon of water in the distance—possibly a river. It wasn’t a certainty, but rivers did usually lead toward civilization. Even better, Sokka knew that much too. Maybe she would get lucky, and they would both land on the same idea. Maybe they would run into each other on the way toward the river. And if they could do that, then it would be that much easier to find Aang and Appa together.

Rather than giving herself any more time to think, she descended back down from the root, one careful, skidding step at a time until she landed on her hands and knees in the mud. It was already afternoon. Early afternoon, but afternoon nonetheless. She had to get moving now, or there was a very real risk that she might not make it as far as the river before nightfall.

Shoulders squared, Katara pushed herself back to her feet and angled herself toward the river.

Walking through the swamp was harder than it looked. In some places, the ground was so soft and sticky that she sank nearly up to her ankles in the mud, and in others, the soil was firm enough to support her weight but so slippery that her feet went sliding to the sides with every step. And that was just the dry ground. Every few dozen paces, she found herself facing yet another puddle or pool of sickly-looking brackish water, and she had to weave in and out between the pools and puddles to keep to the same path. Then, when she’d finally started to adapt to all the swerving and weaving, the mud accumulating on the soles of her boots built up so thick that her feet nearly doubled in size and her legs began to ache.

Still, she kept walking for what must have been half an hour at least, pausing occasionally to knock the excess mud from her boots, before she finally glanced backward to see how far she’d gone.

Not far at all, it seemed. She was still on the right path to reach the river she was aiming for, but the enormous arched root that she’d climbed for a better view was still there, still much closer than it should have been after so much time walking.

Katara let out an exasperated huff. This was beyond ridiculous. If she kept going at this pace, it would be dark well before she made it all the way to the river. She couldn’t just live with that. She and the others had to keep moving. There was no other option. And that meant that she needed to move faster than this—to reach the boys, or civilization, or the edge of the swamp as soon as she possibly could.

Clenching her jaw, she exhaled again, freezing the ground ahead of her before she took another step. When her feet landed this time, the ground didn’t yield, and the next step came quicker, easier than the last.

Her pace picked up after that, and though it was undoubtably tiring to keep freezing the ground ahead of herself, she found that she didn’t really mind when the tall, arching root began to recede in the distance behind her. She minded so little that when she came to a broad but shallow lake, she hardly even paused before freezing the start of a path across the surface.

For a few dozen paces, freezing a long, narrow path across the lake worked perfectly well. The ice was more than thick enough to support her weight, and the water was shallow enough that she didn’t have to worry about falling far even if the ice cracked. But as the water grew deeper and her makeshift bridge carried on, as narrow as ever, the ice began to crackle and shift beneath her feet. Again, she paused for just a moment or two to consider her next move before fracturing the ice a few feet back, leaving herself standing atop a small, frozen raft.

Once she got the ice raft moving, her progress was even quicker than before. There was a soft burbling sound as the water rippled in her wake, and every push from her waterbending sent swirls of greenish silt spinning out from beneath the raft. Out in front of her, though, the water was clear enough that she could make out small, muddy-colored fish darting out of the way and vaguely lizard-shaped creatures the size of her forearm lying still on the floor of the lake.

This was relaxing, almost meditative. As long as she kept her arms moving, kept her attention focused on her bending, she didn’t have to spare much thought for where she was or where she was going. She could just watch the fish scattering as she approached, watch the odd, long-legged bugs skittering over the surface of the water.

If she could find an open path across the water that would lead her the rest of the way to the river, she might very well decide to take it. So long as she could focus on her bending, she could keep moving without questioning herself too much. And out here, she couldn’t afford to question herself.

She was a bit more than halfway across the lake when something shifted. The fish still scattered in front of her like always, and the lizard-like creatures continued to lay still at the bottom, but something was different. Maybe it had something to do with the way that the fish were fleeing now—if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit more urgency to their movements than before. She couldn’t quite tell whether they were swimming faster or beginning to flee quicker, before her shadow could really disturb them in the first place.

It was—odd. From what she could see of the motion beneath the surface, the difference was subtle, but a deep sense of unease settled into her stomach all the same. Fish were usually frightened off by large, moving things in the water, and she’d already seen how frightened they were of her and her raft. If her suspicions were correct, if things had really shifted, then there could very well be something bigger in the water.

Frowning, she glanced back over her left shoulder. Nothing. Then over her right—she froze.

There was something back there. A large, long shadow in the water, lying almost still just below the surface. Almost still. Katara turned her eyes forward for a few moments to be certain that her ice raft was still moving the right direction, then glanced back to find the shadowy form closer than before, its rear end waving slowly back and forth, like a tail propelling the thing through the water.

Oh, no. She wasn’t familiar with swamps—or forests, or deserts, or really any sort of Earth Kingdom landscape that didn’t closely resemble some part of the poles—but she probably should have guessed that she wasn’t the biggest thing out here.

Pushing her raft along faster than before, she made her way for the bank. If she could make it to land, she would probably be safe. Whatever was back there had to be some kind of fish, some kind of creature that couldn’t follow her past the edge of the water. Something that probably wasn’t even chasing her in the first place.

Right?

The splashing sounds behind her grew louder until she couldn’t pretend that it was just the noise of her ice raft cutting through the water anymore, and she shot another look back over her shoulder. That definitely wasn’t a fish. She couldn’t see it for very long, but the head poking out of the water was broad and flat and distinctly un-fishlike. And it seemed to be staring at her.

Whatever that thing was, it wouldn’t catch her. She was a good enough waterbender to guarantee that much. Still, her pulse quickened, and it was difficult to do much but push her raft faster and faster toward the shore. Once she was on dry land again, she could get a better footing, she could fight back against this thing without having to worry about slipping from her raft and landing in the water, at the creature’s mercy.

She nearly made it. Just before her ice raft could reach the muddy bank, there was a hard thump at the back end of it, and Katara pitched forward with a shriek. Her hands and knees met the muck at the bottom of the lake hard enough to sink in an inch or two. The ice bumped against the back of her legs as she scrambled back to her feet and onto the bank, and she whirled around just in time to see the creature surging her way.

Instinct took over, and Katara whipped the water beneath the creature upward with all the force she could muster, creating a wave tall enough to tip the lizard-thing up on end so that it crashed back into the lake, upside down. Then, before the creature could roll upright again and figure out that it was facing the wrong direction, she skidded her way up and away from the lake, grabbed hold of another enormous, arching root, and hauled herself off of the ground.

When she reached the top of the arch, she allowed herself to pause for a few moments, watching breathless as the creature lay almost perfectly still, its long tail waving slowly back and forth. Though its head remained mostly beneath the surface so that she could only see an indistinct shadow in the water, its eyes protruded just far enough that she had to believe it was watching her. That it was hungry and just waiting for her to venture close enough to the shoreline to lunge at her again.

Okay. So traveling by water wasn’t going to be quite as safe a bet as she’d initially hoped. Making for the river was probably still the wisest choice, but she couldn’t imagine herself trusting an ice raft again. Not when there were giant, vicious-looking lizards lurking just beneath the surface. One way or another, she had to keep a little more distance between herself and the water. It went against almost all of her instincts as a waterbender, but then she had never really needed to face creatures like this before. Usually, water just meant fish, not things that wanted to eat her.

Once she’d managed to both catch her breath and calm her pulse, Katara pushed to her feet and studied the path ahead. The river was considerably closer than before, thankfully. Not close enough to reach soon, but closer.

If she angled her path ever so slightly to the right, she could probably avoid crossing too many more ponds along the way. And if she swerved back to the left right before that tree, she could probably—

There was a small, muffled sound from somewhere off to her right, and Katara froze. It sounded a bit like a voice. A human voice.

She edged along the top of the root toward the tree trunk until the voice reached her again, small and frightened. “Mom! Mom, where are you?”

A child? Her stomach sank, and she worked her way closer to the tree. From the sound of it, she had to guess that there was a little boy somewhere on the other side of the tree, probably perched up on another of the massive roots. Probably terrified and alone too.

“Mom, I thought you said you weren’t going to leave me!”

Katara picked her way around the tree until she found exactly what she expected—a little boy, probably no more than ten years old, stood alone on one of the roots, staring out in the distance. The only surprise was the fact that the boy was dressed in almost spotless Fire Nation clothes.

“Hey,” she called out, keeping her tone as gentle as she could so as not to frighten him. Fire Nation or not, he was far too young to be left out here alone. “Are you okay? Are you lost?”

The little boy turned her way, looking surprised, then crossed his arms tight over his chest. “No. I’m not lost. My mom is.”

Walking through the swamp was slow. Maddeningly slow. There were so many patches of deep, greasy muck to avoid, so many pools and puddles of water for Sokka to circle around that he wasn’t making much progress at all.

Well—he was making some progress. More than he had when he’d gotten stuck in the Spirit World swamp near Senlin. But since this was the real world, that comparison didn’t make him feel much better.

Shading his eyes, he squinted up at the sky. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was still midafternoon, which meant that if the sun was just slightly to his right, then he was still heading south. And if he was heading south, he was probably going the right direction. He couldn’t be certain, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that both Aang and Appa had gone down somewhere to the south. Logically, finding Appa was the best option he had. A giant white fluffball was going to stick out from the surrounding greenery a lot more than any of the others, and if Sokka could find Appa, it would make the rest of the search that much easier.

And if nothing else, Sokka was fairly certain that there was a river up ahead. Both the fishing and the water had to be better there than the slimy ponds he kept passing along his way.

With the butt of his boomerang, Sokka whacked a tree trunk as he passed it, leaving a deep, paler-colored gouge in the bark to mark where he’d been. He hadn’t circled back on himself yet, but he wasn’t going to take any chances with all this ridiculous twisting and turning.

“Guys!” he shouted out into the trees again, not really expecting a response. “Katara! Aang! Anybody out there?”

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. His voice didn’t echo back to him either. Brilliant. For a regular old swamp, this place sure had a lot of complete nonsense going on.

He whacked at the undergrowth a few times before reaching an unreasonably thick tangle of branches, all curved in such a way that the only way he could possibly pass was by crouching down and crawling beneath them on his hands and knees. Ugh. Still, Sokka had to keep moving, so he stooped down and wriggled through the gap, trying hard not to think about what other sorts of creatures probably used these openings. What other sorts of creatures might decide to cut through here and try to gnaw his face off while he was still on his hands and knees and mostly defenseless.

After wedging himself diagonally through the last gap in the branches, he landed in an undignified heap on the mossy ground and took a few moments to grumble before pushing himself upright again. He wondered where Katara and Aang were right now, and if either of them were anywhere near as covered in nasty, slimy muck as he was. Probably not. Those lucky jerks had bending to keep themselves at least passably dry in all this mess.

Well, he’d just have to make a mental note to complain about that when they all found each other again. Sokka wasn’t above that. And since no one could hear his grumbling at the moment, he would have to make up for that sooner or later.

He took a few seconds to dust off as much of the grime and moss from his clothes as he could before straightened the rest of the way, then immediately froze again when his eyes landed on the clearing ahead. This didn’t seem right. While the clearing was still just as swampy as everything else, there were almost no actual pools of water, and in the spaces where he would have expected to find pools and puddles, there were sticks instead. But not just sticks—these were all long and straight, stripped of their bark, and arranged in deliberate clusters around the clearing. Almost like tent poles, if he wasn’t mistaken.

The only problem was that if this had once been a camp, it wasn’t any longer. All the tarps seemed to be missing, and the poles all seemed to be blackened and charred.

Although all his instincts told him to turn away, to just keep moving along in his search, Sokka took a small step forward. He didn’t want to investigate any of this, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself.

Though Katara had looked around before, though she knew very well that there was no one else nearby, she found herself searching the area around them again and again. The little boy had to have gotten here somehow, and the fact that there didn’t seem to be any footprints leading this way worried her a little. The boy himself was small enough that he might have been able to make it up onto the root without leaving many traces behind, but surely he couldn’t have gotten all the way out here on his own. There ought to be some evidence somewhere of the adult who’d brought him this far.

Or maybe it didn’t matter one way or the other. He was here regardless. And no matter how he’d gotten here, the chances of such a little boy making it back out of the swamp alone weren’t very good.

She took a small, cautious step forward. “My name is Katara. What’s yours?”

The little boy narrowed his eyes at her. “My mom says I’m not supposed to tell strangers stuff like that.”

Katara stopped approaching. Fair enough. The boy had every right to be frightened and wary of her. “Right. It sounds like your mom is pretty smart.”

Slowly, he nodded, then looked away, arms crossed. “She’s really smart.”

An exhalation. At least he wasn’t running from her. That was a start. “Can you tell me when you saw her last? Even if your mom is lost, she probably didn’t go far.”

“I don’t know. Feels like a really long time.” He shifted from one foot to the other, then fixed Katara with a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”

Because even if she’s as awful as Azula, there’s no reason for me to punish her child over it.

“Because my friends are lost too,” Katara said instead. “I’m looking for them right now, so if you need some help finding your mom—”

The little boy narrowed his eyes into a strikingly familiar look of suspicion. He was definitely Fire Nation. If the clothes weren’t a clear enough giveaway on their own, the fact that his scowl made him look like he could be Zuko’s little brother more than made up for it. “No. She wanted me to stay here until somebody comes for me.”

“Don’t I count as somebody?” Katara countered gently. Then when the boy didn’t respond, she took a slight, careful step forward. “I know I’m a stranger, and I know you probably don’t want to trust me. That’s okay. But I really don’t want to leave a kid all alone out here, so if you don’t want to come with me, I’ll wait here with you for a while.”

He seemed to waver, and for a few long seconds, he was perfectly silent. Then, with a deep frown, he mumbled, “I thought all you people were supposed to hate firebenders.”

There was a strange pang in the middle of her chest, but she did her best to offer him a smile. “I used to think so too, until I met a few of them. It turns out that some of them can be really nice.” She extended a hand in his direction. “I’m willing to give you a chance if you’ll do the same for me.”

Still frowning, the boy looked at her, then at her hand, then back at her again. “Fine. Only if you really need my help, though.” He paused just long enough to give her another small scowl before adding, “And I’m not a baby. I can walk by myself.”

Despite herself, Katara snorted. “Fair enough. I believe you.”

Chapter Text

Despite all of Katara’s best efforts, she couldn’t get the little boy to tell her much more than what she already knew. He was nearly ten years old—at least in his words, though judging by his tone, he probably wouldn’t turn ten for several more months—he was a firebender, and while he didn’t seem certain about how long he’d been separated from his mother, Katara reasoned that it couldn’t have been more than a day.

Naturally, she wanted to know more than that. The Fire Nation didn’t seem to treat its children particularly well, but even they probably didn’t lose too many nine-year-olds in Earth Kingdom swamps. Though it was undeniably fortunate that she’d been able to find him before he got hurt, finding him at all was strange enough that she couldn’t keep herself from asking questions.

At the very least, she reasoned, talking to him made it easier to keep track of where he was. In his wariness, the boy refused to walk beside her, opting instead to trail along a few paces behind. It didn’t really matter so long as he stayed close enough that she could help if he got into trouble, but as quiet as he was most of the time, she couldn’t help but worry that he might fall too far behind. At least if she kept him talking, she could be certain that he was close without constantly peering back over her shoulder.

“I know we’re looking for your mom,” she called back to the little boy, “but was anyone else out here with you? Like maybe your dad, or—do you have a dad?”

“No,” the boy said, a little too harshly.

Katara glanced back over her shoulder. “You mean you don’t have a dad, or—”

He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. “No, I have a dad.”

Oh. She thought she recognized that look in his eyes, and a wave of protectiveness swept over her. How many terrible fathers were there in the Fire Nation?

She had to force herself to turn forward again so that she wouldn’t try to hug the boy. She’d learned very quickly that he didn’t want to be touched after she tried to help him down to the ground from the enormous root, and the last thing she wanted was to drive him away. Not out here, where such a young kid was practically defenseless.

“So—he’s not close by, then,” she said.

“I don’t know. He might be here. I don’t really want to see him, though.”

That was fair. Katara pushed a low hanging branch aside and held it out of the way. “Okay, then. We have three people to look for. That’s not so bad.”

After a brief hesitation, the boy followed her through the opening and immediately stepped away again. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a river up ahead.” She glanced forward long enough to check that they still had a clear path forward on dry land before meeting his eyes again. “I don’t know how far we can go before it gets dark, but moving water should take us to a town or to somewhere outside of the swamp. My brother knows that too, so I’m hoping he had the same idea.”

“And how does that help me find my mom?”

“Well, if we can find my brother and my friend, we’ll have two more people to help look for her. And if we can find a town, there should be a lot more people who are willing to help us.”

What she didn’t say was that the longer they walked, the less convinced she became that his mother was still out here. At some points, the forest floor was almost entirely covered in tracks—none belonging to her or the boy, since she was freezing the ground beneath them to make it easier to walk—but she hadn’t seen a single human footprint anywhere. And since she and the boy were following the only relatively dry path away from the root, it seemed more likely than not that his mother had gone a different direction and waded through some of the stagnant pools where her footsteps wouldn’t show. And if his mother had tried her luck against the water—

A shudder ran up Katara’s spine. One way or another, she was going to make sure that the boy made it out of the swamp safely. If that meant that she had to give up on searching for his mother and escort him to safety in Omashu, she would do it. She just didn’t know how to tell him that the same enormous lizard-thing that had tried to attack her might have attacked his mother as well.

For now, it was probably best to just keep moving. After they’d found Sokka and Aang, she would worry about what came next.

They made it what felt like another mile before Katara could see the river consistently when they climbed up to cross over fallen logs and crested small rises in the ground. It would still take a while, but she thought they could make it before dark. Maybe even with enough time to spare for her to catch and cook a fish for dinner.

The only problem was that the boy was lagging even farther behind than before. So much so that she almost couldn’t walk slow enough for him to catch up.

At the top of a small rise, Katara stopped. “Is everything okay back there?”

The little boy frowned as he plodded closer, but there was no anger, no irritation in his expression this time. Instead, he just looked a bit like he wanted to cry. “My legs are really tired.”

Her heart wrenched. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but he’d lagged far enough behind that the ground was probably thawing beneath his feet, leaving him to slog through thick, slippery mud. He was probably exhausting himself just because his small legs couldn’t quite match her pace.

Still, they were getting close to the river now, and if they couldn’t make it that far before nightfall, it would make for a much longer, much more miserable night.

“I could give you a ride the rest of the way,” she offered.

He looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Or,” she amended hastily, “we could find someplace to sit down and rest for a while. Do you want to take a break?”

After a hesitation, he gave a reluctant nod. “I guess so.”

With a sympathetic smile, she offered a hand as he approached. “You’re doing great so far. I know it’s a lot of work to walk through all this mud, but we’re about halfway there now. And as soon as we make it to the river, we’ll try to find someplace to stop for the night.”

Another halfhearted nod, but the boy ignored her hand and plodded on past her. Fine. Rather than leading the way this time, she followed just behind him, taking extra care to freeze the ground before his feet landed. Then, when he found a fallen log and flopped down atop it without so much as a word, Katara crouched down to his level.

It took a powerful force of will to keep from reaching out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but she settled for pointing forward instead. “See the river up there? That’s as far as we have to go today. That’s not so bad, is it?”

He scowled in a transparent effort at muscling down the urge to cry. “You said I could take a break. I don’t want to start walking yet.”

“I know. I get that. I just—” She broke off with a sharp inhalation. They just didn’t have much time to spare before nightfall. That wouldn’t be a problem if he was more willing to trust her—Katara was starting to get tired too, but she could carry a little boy on her back and keep waterbending at the same time if she had to.

But if he didn’t want to be touched, if he didn’t want her help, she couldn’t exactly force him to change his mind. She couldn’t risk breaking what little trust he had in her, not when there was every chance that his mother wasn’t out here anymore. If she wasn’t careful to hold that trust, he could end up entirely alone.

“I just don’t know how else I can keep everyone safe,” she said, voice soft enough that she wasn’t even sure the boy could hear her.

Shit.

Sokka didn’t want any part in whatever this was. A ruined camp left out in the middle of an Earth Kingdom swamp was none of his business. He had to find the others. He didn’t have time to mess around with investigating anyone else’s problems.

But as far as he could tell, there was no good way to get around the camp without crawling back through the hole in the undergrowth and walking an extra mile or so to circle around the outside. Objectively, his best option was to cut right through the middle.

He just had to pull himself together and ignore the fact that the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. Which shouldn’t be that hard. He was a little on edge, sure, but it wasn’t like he had to act brave for the others’ sake. He could be as undignified and jumpy as he wanted.

Still, it took some time before he managed to convince his legs to move, and when he did, Sokka couldn’t bring himself to look too closely at any of the ruined tents. Something about this place seemed familiar. Even though he knew for a fact that he’d never been here before—he would remember the swampy nonsense if he had—he could almost sense where each and every set of scorched tent poles would be before he reached them. It was absurd, and it shouldn’t have been possible. But somehow, every single time that the weird prickling on the back of his neck started up again, he glanced up just in time to avoid colliding with yet another pole or tripping over another torn tarp.

He’d definitely never been here before, but he knew the ruined camp’s layout almost like he’d walked through it a thousand times before.

Sokka stopped in his tracks, and he felt his eyes go wide. There was a reason why this all felt so familiar, he realized. He’d never set foot in this swamp before, but he had walked through this camp before. Somehow, for some reason, this camp was identical to the village back at the South Pole.

That couldn’t be. There was absolutely no reason for anything here to resemble home, and Sokka turned on the spot, scanning the ground for any differences that might prove his suspicions wrong. As far as he could see, there were none. There was the footprint of the tent that should have belonged to Bato, and just on the other side of an open square, the much larger remnants of what should have been the council hut.

Shit.

This had to be some kind of weird trap. Logically, Sokka knew that. There had to be some kind of spirity nonsense afoot here, and that was why he was seeing a weird replica of home. He shouldn’t be indulging any of this crazy stuff.

But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself.

Sokka turned forward again, gaze locked on the ground until he reached the place where his family’s tent was meant to be. It, like all the others, was scorched and half-collapsed, destroyed to the point that it barely resembled a tent anymore. He tried his best to shake himself out of the weird, trance-like state that had brought him here, but when his eyes finally broke away from the remains of the tent, they locked on something just on the other side instead.

A figure, tall and broad, clad all in blue, stood a few dozen paces away, back turned toward Sokka. His heart skipped, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Dad?”

Though the little boy was still too tired to carry on just yet, Katara was far too restless to sit and wait for him. There was, however, a pond not too far down the hill from where they’d stopped, and they were going to need food before nightfall. And since this pond seemed too small to accommodate one of those enormous lizard-things that had tried to attack her earlier, it seemed like a perfect place to try her luck with a little fishing.

Crouching down, Katara skimmed her hand over the surface of the water, feeling for any small currents that might point her in the direction of a decent-sized fish. The boy hadn’t seemed too enthusiastic about being left behind on the log, even for a few minutes, but the fact that she’d promised not to leave his sight had eventually convinced him. She shot a glance back over her shoulder, just long enough to catch him frowning at her, before she stood again and picked her way a bit farther along the bank. Unless she was very much mistaken, there was something moving a bit farther out in the water, something small enough that she couldn’t count on seeing it from here. She just had to hope that tracking it down wouldn’t take her too far from the little boy, or attract any attention from the other swamp creatures.

It took a few more tries before she narrowed down the fish’s location well enough to risk approaching any further, and she shot another glance back to check on the boy. He was still there, still not looking particularly happy to be left on his own, but on the other hand, he hadn’t made any effort to follow her either. At the very least, he seemed to trust her not to run off without him.

Then, as she turned back toward the water and set her mind to stretching her bending out to the right part of the pond, a flash of brilliant blue in the distance caught her eye.

Katara looked up. The blue form was large enough to be a person, and for a second, she half expected to find Sokka out there, knee deep in mud and staring at her in bewilderment. That would make as much sense as anything else she’d seen in this crazy swamp.

But it wasn’t Sokka. The blue form was a person, and the blue was a set of familiar Water Tribe clothing, though. Katara’s breath caught in her throat. The figure was a woman, near enough to Katara’s height, standing with her back turned and a number of braids woven through her dark hair.

Familiar braids.

Very familiar.

Katara pushed to her feet, heart racing. She had to be seeing things. Right? This couldn’t possibly be real.

Still, despite the doubts crowding in from all sides, she couldn’t stop herself. “Mom?” she said in a small, quaking half voice.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the boy rise to his feet, probably frightened that she was about to disappear. But as hard as she tried, Katara couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from the figure in the middle of the water—from Mom—even for the instant it would take to shoot a reassuring smile back at the boy. Instead, she stepped forward into the water, and without so much as blinking, waded toward the middle.

“Mom.” It wasn’t a question anymore. Now, the desperate, aching loneliness that always lingered somewhere beneath the surface was beginning to rise, and all she could really do was plead. “Mom, please, it’s me. Remember?”

There was a soft, musical laugh, and although Katara hadn’t heard it in years, she remembered the sound. She remembered it so well that the laugh alone brought back a deluge of memories that she thought she’d forgotten by now. Breath caught in her throat, she started to reach out just as Mom began to turn her way too.

But then, just when Mom’s face came into profile, just when Mom began to smile and opened her mouth to speak, Katara’s hand came to the point where her shoulder should have been. Rather than stopping, though, rather than landing and closing on Mom’s shoulder, Katara’s hand just kept going.

Almost like water, the image rippled, and as the ripples spread outward from the point where Katara’s hand had made contact, Mom opened her mouth as though to speak. But before a single word could make it out of her mouth, the image faded, then disappeared completely, leaving Katara to stare desperately at empty air.

It felt as though she’d been struck full in the chest by something heavy and hard, and Katara’s eyes and throat began to burn.

She knew it. Or she should have known, at least. She should have known that seeing Mom was too good to be true—that it was impossible. She should have known all of it.

But before the full weight of the grief and disappointment could fully land, a shout from the top of the hill cut her off.

“Dad?” The little boy sounded terrified. “Dad, what are you doing?”

Her heart sank, and Katara spun back toward him. She’d imagined seeing Mom—or hallucinated it, or something—so if the boy was seeing his father, there might be something wrong with this place. And as much as she wanted a moment to pause and compose herself after seeing Mom, she couldn’t ignore the boy when he was so clearly petrified.

She splashed her way back to the bank and bent just enough water from her clothes to keep from skidding in the mud. “It’s not real!” she shouted up to him as she started up the hill at a sprint. “He can’t hurt you. Your dad isn’t really here!”

If the boy heard her, he gave no sign of it. Staring up at nothing, he edged backward, eyes wide and face pale. “No. No, Dad, I said I was sorry. Please don’t—”

Though there were brambles and weeds choking much of the path, Katara pushed straight through, not caring when the thorns grabbed onto her clothes. She had to get to the boy. Maybe when she did, she could break through the illusion and pull him back to reality. And if she could do that—if she could calm him down and comfort him—then maybe there could be at least some value in what she’d seen. Maybe the memory of seeing Mom wouldn’t hurt so much if it meant that she could help.

Before she could make it that far, though, the little boy dropped to his knees, still pleading with the empty air. “No, Dad, please. I’m sorry, and—”

Just as Katara reached the crest of the rise, he broke off with a terrible, gut-wrenching scream, then curled in on himself.

Breathless, she dropped to her knees just in front of him. “Hey. Hey, can you tell me what’s wrong? I can’t see anyone else here.” She reached tentatively toward his shoulder, then stopped herself. “Can you look at me, please? I want to help, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s happening.”

He didn’t immediately respond, and for a few moments, Katara didn’t have the first idea what to do. Since he hadn’t wanted to be touched before, she didn’t dare to push that particular line now. And even though his father wasn’t here, she couldn’t seem to find the words to tell him as much. Not when he was still curled up in pure terror.

“I’m here,” she said softly when she ran out of other ideas. “Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise.”

A few more breathless moments passed, but then slowly, very slowly, the boy began to uncurl himself. Katara pulled back a fraction, just enough to give him space, but when she settled back on her heels and looked his way again, something was—off. Like he wasn’t just uncurling but expanding too. It looked like he was growing right before her eyes from the little boy she’d grown accustomed to into something else.

When his eyes finally turned upward and locked onto Katara’s face, her heart skipped a beat, and an involuntary shriek burst out of her as she scrambled back a foot or two. But just as quickly as the shock had hit her, recognition followed, and she froze in place.

She knew those eyes. And although the burn over the left side of his face was different, more ragged and fresher than she’d ever seen it before, his face was positively unmistakable now.

“Zuko?” she breathed, tentatively sitting up, then inching toward him again. “It’s you? It’s been you the whole time, hasn’t it?”

He stared at her, practically expressionless. It was almost like he couldn’t see her, like even though she was right there in front of him, she had gone completely invisible.

“Zuko?” She crawled toward him, heart in her throat. “Please. Please, you have to remember me. You do, don’t you?”

His eyes remained fixed on her, but there was no comforting flash of recognition, nothing but emptiness staring back at her. His hand rose gingerly to his freshly burned cheek, then back out in her direction, desperate and searching.

“Help me.” His voice sounded odd, not quite the small voice that the little boy had spoken with, but not quite the soft rasp she knew as Zuko’s voice either. “Please. It hurts.”

None of this made sense. Not at all, but yet again, Katara couldn’t stop herself. As Zuko reached out toward her, she reached back, half-believing that their fingertips would lace together and reality would coalesce around them, leaving Zuko with her, right where he ought to be.

Of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

When her hand met with his, there was a slight sensation of both burning and cold where his fingers should have been, and the rippling started from his hand, slowly working its way upward. Zuko’s eyes widened in something akin to shock or pain. Then, just before the rippling reached his face, there was a burst of recognition, and he opened his mouth, obviously preparing to speak.

She didn’t get the chance to hear what he wanted to say. Before he could speak, the rippling overtook him entirely, and Zuko faded into nothingness, leaving her staring at the empty air.

Slowly, heart still racing, Katara slumped back on her heels.

Even it if was just for a moment, she had gone numb. Completely and utterly numb.

With a gasp and a jolt, Zuko sat bolt upright in the middle of his tent. It was dark outside, probably close to midnight, and though his heart was racing and his back coated in sweat, he couldn’t actually remember what had woken him.

After a few long moments of listening for any sign of disturbance outside his tent, he let out a slow, shaking breath. Nothing. It must have been a dream.

Fuck. With a sigh, he flopped onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes. He’d had nightmares before. Lots of them over the years, but for the past several months, they’d left him alone. In fact, it had been long enough that he’d almost begun to think that they were gone for good.

Of course, he could never be that lucky. The fact that he couldn’t remember the details of the nightmare was odd, but it must have been a nightmare. If something else had woken him, there would be some sign of it.

Zuko closed his eyes. As confusing as it was not to remember the dream that had woken him, he could at least take a little comfort in the fact that his thoughts weren’t consumed with replaying the nightmare over and over again. He was shaken, but his pulse eased back to normal in a matter of seconds, and his breathing was steady. If he just lay still for a few minutes, he should be able to fall back asleep.

But a few minutes passed, then a few more, and as hard as he tried, Zuko couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was off. That he couldn’t take the risk of falling back asleep while a forgotten nightmare could be lurking in the back of his mind, waiting to ambush him again the moment that he drifted off.

It was silly, Zuko knew that. Still, after what felt like an excessively long time waiting for sleep, he had to give up. At the very least, he needed some fresh air.

Slowly, he crawled out of his sleeping bag, then poked his head out through the tent flaps. By now, the camp had mostly gone quiet, but a few campfires still flickered along the riverbank. Thankfully, he and Uncle had been relegated to an isolated corner where the light barely reached him, and when Zuko dodged from his tent to the nearest shadow, no one seemed to notice. There were no signs of movement coming his way, at least.

He didn’t allow himself to relax until he’d gone far enough that the trees blocked nearly all of the firelight, though. This place was weird. And although this place was supposedly filled to the brim with Fire Nation deserters, with people who ought to be trustworthy enough not to turn him over to Father or Azula, he couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down.

I thought I told you never to bring the boy here.

A slight shiver ran up his spine, and Zuko put his head down as he circled around the outer edge of camp. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t really trust anyone here. Jeong Jeong clearly despised him, and wasn’t much more happy to see Uncle than Zuko. The other men had seemed a bit less bothered by their presence, but Zuko hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to show his face or announce himself. He knew perfectly well how unpopular he had to be, and he had no desire to get himself into unnecessary trouble when they were only going to be here for a few days.

He could probably manage to stay out of the way for that long. He usually woke fairly early anyway—if he snuck out of camp around sunrise each morning, he wouldn’t have to deal with any strangers. They wouldn’t have to deal with him either. Everyone would be happier that way.

He made his way to the far end of camp by the time that his thoughts finally quieted, and tiredness began to settle over him. With a slow sigh, he came to a stop behind one of the larger tents. He would have to turn back the way he’d come if he wanted to keep properly out of sight—the camp butted right up against the river on one side, and he knew better than to think that he could sneak along the bank without being spotted. From here, he couldn’t see the campfires along the water’s edge, but he’d spent enough of his life around gossipy old men to know that they were probably still down there, stoking the flames and pretending that it wasn’t past midnight. Even if it took longer to edge his way along the forested side of camp, it would be worth it to keep out of the way.

Zuko turned back the way he’d come, eyes turned upward this time, and he froze almost immediately in his tracks. He hadn’t noticed from the other direction, but most of the nearby tents and shacks were adorned with old military banners. That part didn’t surprise him. This whole camp was full of Fire Nation deserters. It was only natural that some of them would have kept mementos of their old lives after they left. The fact that some of the banners were faded and battered to the point that the insignia was almost illegible didn’t surprise him either. Some of them had probably been out here for years. But the one hanging almost directly in front of him turned his blood cold.

Forty-First Division.

The instant that Zuko regained control over his limbs, he broke into a sprint back toward his tent. He didn’t have a choice anymore. He had to convince Uncle to leave as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Katara didn’t make it all the way to the river that night. Once the vision of the boy—of Zuko—dissipated, leaving her alone, it was difficult to summon up the will to do much of anything. She managed to climb up into the fork of a nearby tree to get clear of any hungry animals, at least, but that was as far as she could go.

None of this was fair. None of it was right. All the swamp had done so far was show her flashes of impossible hope, and she refused to play along with its tricks any longer.

Or maybe that was giving herself too much credit. The swamp had already fooled her with two different visions. And in Zuko’s case, the deceit had lasted hours. She’d known all along that it was odd for a little Fire Nation boy to be lost so far out in an Earth Kingdom swamp, she’d known that it was impossible for Mom to be here at all, and yet she hadn’t been skeptical enough to disbelieve her eyes.

She’d been stupid. And now, well after dark, she’d cried herself empty and could barely find the motivation to move.

This was just too much. Everything was. She didn’t really know what she was doing as a sister or a friend, much less as the Avatar. Her only real, concrete goals at the moment were to find Zuko reach Omashu, whichever order those two things came in. Outside of that—frankly, even the idea of training with King Bumi didn’t hold much appeal for her. Not like waterbending lessons had.

Maybe that was just because earth wasn’t her native element. Or, more likely, it could be that learning a second element, that mastering another element would make it all but impossible for her to hide who she really was. There was only one way for a person to learn more than one element, and as much as it sometimes chafed her to go unnoticed next to Aang, losing the ability to hide frightened her a little.

Especially now. How on earth was she meant to help end the war when she’d only mastered one of the four elements, when she couldn’t open the Spirit World without unleashing horrors on the physical world, when she couldn’t even control when or whether she went into the Avatar State?

How was she meant to do anything at all when she couldn’t even find her way out of the swamp without visions crowding her from every side?

She lost track of how long she sat like that, curled into a ball and consumed by something akin to self-pity. Hours, at least. Long enough that the sky turned black, and the air turned chilly, and all the unfamiliar sounds of the swamp went from uncomfortably quiet to inescapably loud. Long enough that though she had no idea how late it actually was, she knew for certain that she ought to have been asleep by now.

Long enough that even when a soft, bluish-white light washed over her, Katara didn’t look up. It was probably just another vision anyway.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, little bug?”

Katara didn’t respond. She recognized the woman’s voice—it was hard not to remember the accent—but she wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone. Even if Sokka and Aang showed up right now, she doubted that she would want to talk to them.

“Never expected I’d find you here in my old stompin’ grounds,” Avatar Haasi continued. “Most Avatars don’t need to visit the Foggy Swamp after trainin’ at the poles. Ain’t you finished your lessons yet? I can feel a real strong waterbending energy in you now.”

Slowly, Katara raised her head just enough to find Haasi standing a few paces away, translucent and glowing. Whiskers’ head protruded ever so slightly out of the water behind Haasi too, but unlike the last time Katara had seen the two of them, she didn’t even flinch.

“What are you doing here?” she asked rather than answering. “I didn’t open the Spirit World to let you cross over this time. Or are you just another one of those visions?”

Haasi shook her head, and the fringe of beaded braids rattled and clacked against one another. “Nah. The Foggy Swamp ain’t like most places. Here, us spirits can at least show ourselves most anytime we please. The divide between the worlds has always been real thin.”

Great. That explained a lot. “So let me guess. When I had visions of my best friend and my mom earlier today, that was just some evil spirit poking its head into the physical world to play tricks on me or something.”

“Now, now. There ain’t no such thing as evil spirits.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to all the people who got eaten by Koh at the North Pole.”

Haasi made a thoughtful humming sound, but she shook her head. “You’re missin’ the point there, Water Bug. Koh may be a mean old bastard, and he may have hurt a lot of good people, but he ain’t evil. None of the spirits ever make their choices to hurt anyone on the other side of the bridge.” With surprising agility for her apparent age—and surprising weight to her movements for a spirit—Haasi swung herself up onto a branch next to Katara. “That don’t mean it won’t ever hurt.”

A shudder ran through her shoulders, and Katara put her head down on her knees again. She’d run out of tears some time ago, but the urge to cry was nearly as strong as ever. “Then what was the point of showing me all that?” she asked, voice wavering. “Mom died six years ago, and my friend—why did I have to see him get hurt like that? He’s not really here. I couldn’t do anything to help.”

“Can’t hardly tell you what that was all about. I didn’t see it myself.”

Faintly, she shook her head. “I didn’t even know it was him at first. He was just a scared little kid, and I was stupid enough to think I could take care of him.”

Once again, her mind replayed snippets of the vision—the wariness in his eyes when she’d first offered to wait with him, the stubborn set to his jaw when he’d insisted that he didn’t need any help walking through the swamp, and the little scowl he’d worn when he was tired enough to cry but too stubborn to admit it. There hadn’t been much chance to think things through, but she’d still managed to convince herself that she could look after him, that if she could just keep the poor, scared little boy safe until Omashu, then everything would be okay. That if they could make it that far, the little boy could have a home and a family with Zuko and the general. With her.

But now that she knew it had been Zuko all along, it was hard to escape the idea that the vision might mean much, much worse. She’d seen Mom back from the dead, after all. Seeing Zuko right alongside her, even in an unfamiliar, much younger form, could hardly bode well for him.

“Your friend’s been on your mind a fair bit,” Haasi said after a few moments. “Is that right?”

Wordless and numb, Katara nodded.

“Well, then I reckon that’s most of it. This old swamp has a way of findin’ what it is that matters most to a person and puttin’ it all together. I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if all them spirits was tryin’ to send you a message.”

“Like what?” This time, Katara lifted her head and shot a blazing look over at Haasi. “Like the fact that something horrible happened to my best friend while I was too far away to help him?”

One of Haasi’s eyebrows quirked upward just a fraction. “Ain’t nobody out here in the Foggy Swamp that direct about anythin’, girlie. They was tryin’ to tell you something, but it’d take someone wiser than me to tell you what they meant.” With that, Haasi hopped down from her branch and spun back with a crooked, toothy grin. “Matter of fact, I think there’s some kin of mine who might know just what to tell you.”

A translucent hand closed around Katara’s wrist, and before she could brace herself, Haasi’s barely-tangible grasp yanked her out of the tree. Ouch. Fortunately, the ground was too soft to cause any real damage, but the half rotten sticks where her hands and knees had landed would probably be enough to cause a few bruises.

Scowling, Katara looked up. “I—what are you even talking about? Kin? I’m just trying to find my brother and Aang so we can get out of here, not—”

Haasi grinned again as she tugged Katara back to her feet. “That’s the beauty of it, Water Bug. Ain’t nobody knows the Foggy Swamp like my kin. Once me and Whiskers take you to ‘em, they’ll find your friends and the meaning of those visions quick as anything.”

Zuko didn’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that Uncle was being deliberately obtuse and uncooperative about this whole mess. Sure, he’d been a bit incoherent when he first burst into Uncle’s tent last night, but his main demand—that they pack up and leave as soon as humanly possible—had been perfectly clear. He’d even managed to slow down and explain himself properly after the first minute or so, but for some unfathomable reason, Uncle still wouldn’t budge. Apparently Uncle’s business with Jeong Jeong mattered more than the fact that there were banners from the forty-first division hanging all over on the other side of camp.

All of that would have been maddening enough on its own. Uncle had already spoken with Jeong Jeong. If there had been any news from Omashu, Uncle should know it already. But after the sun finally rose, Uncle didn’t return to Jeong Jeong’s hut. Instead, he meandered down to where the older men were gathered by the riverbanks to gossip.  

Out of sheer desperation, Zuko went so far as to barge into Jeong Jeong’s hut himself, but even that proved futile. Jeong Jeong wasn’t there, nothing in any of the hut’s sparse furnishings bore any hint that there had been any news from anyone outside the forest in months, and aside from a shabby-looking Pai Sho board in the corner, there was no sign that Jeong Jeong even made time for the people in his own camp, much less devoted any energy to maintaining correspondence with anyone outside of it.

Great. Zuko rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. He couldn’t exactly talk to Jeong Jeong on Uncle’s behalf to get them out of here sooner if he couldn’t work out where Jeong Jeong had gone. And he couldn’t go back to cajoling Uncle into leaving, not when there was every chance that the owner of the forty-first division banner was down by the riverbank too. If there was anything Zuko wanted less than another day out here after seeing the banner, it was meeting someone who might want to talk about the forty-first.

He opted for the next best thing and darted out of Jeong Jeong’s hut into the forest just north of camp. Even if he couldn’t convince Uncle to leave yet, that didn’t mean that Zuko had to stay.

It didn’t take long at all for him to go far enough to lose sight of camp in the distance and for all the noise to die away, leaving him with nothing but soft, distant birdsong and the rush of the nearby river. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he allowed his pace to slacken. With any luck, Jeong Jeong would return to camp to finish his business with Uncle before noon, which would give them enough time to pack up and leave before sunset. Before anyone who knew about the forty-first could get to them and start asking Zuko questions.

He wasn’t certain that he could be that lucky, of course, but leaving as soon as possible was really his only choice. Things would be so much easier if only Uncle could understand that.

Truthfully, it didn’t surprise him much that Uncle was so insistent on staying. Uncle probably thought that since these people were all deserters, they would congratulate and praise Zuko for what he’d done three years ago. That maybe after so much time weighed down by awful memories, some form of approval might lighten the burden somewhat.

The trouble was that Zuko didn’t really want approval right now. He’d spoken out against Bujing. He wasn’t ashamed of that, at least not anymore. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else in the same situation. But he still didn’t want to talk about it. Even three years on, he could still hear the pride and triumph in Bujing’s voice as he outlined his plan to the war council. He could still feel the rush of righteous rage that had coursed through him as he objected and carried on until the Agni Kai. And he could still remember the searing pain consuming the left side of his face and the hollowness that came with banishment. Knowing that someone else approved of what he’d done couldn’t possibly change that. Not when he could also remember the one and only letter that Father had written to Uncle afterward—the letter that had arrived for no other reason than to confirm that Zuko’s protests had been in vain, that the battle had been won and the forty-first division annihilated.

Back when the letter had first arrived, when Zuko had snuck into Uncle’s cabin to read it, the horror had been enough to send him spiraling into incoherence just before the infection growing in the fresh burn took over. Even now, lingering on the memory for too long was enough to keep him up at night and leave him feeling vaguely nauseous.

He couldn’t talk about it. He’d tried with Katara at the North Pole, and if he couldn’t manage the conversation with her, he had no chance with anyone else. He just wasn’t strong enough for that.

The path that Zuko was following narrowed considerably before it opened back out into a bright, sun-drenched clearing along the river. With a slow exhalation, he looked back over his shoulder again. By now, there was no visible sign of camp behind him whatsoever, and fortunately, no sign that anyone from camp made a habit of venturing out this way.

He plopped down on a rock by the bank and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. For all that he hated being stuck here, for all that being so close to other Fire Nation deserters put him on edge, he had to remember that things could still be worse. He and Uncle were making good progress toward Omashu, and so far, they’d been able to stay far enough out of sight that Azula didn’t seem to be on their trail. As much as this little detour sucked, it probably wasn’t the end of the world. Sooner or later—hopefully before the end of the day—Uncle would see reason and they could carry on with their travels.

All he had to do was keep out of sight until then. And ideally, he supposed, keep close enough that Uncle would be able to find him when it was time to leave. He could manage those two things. Even if he didn’t move from this rock all day, he could probably manage it just fine.

He’d been sitting by the side of the river, idly watching the ripples in its surface pass him by for an hour or so when he heard a stick snap behind him. Zuko jumped, but he didn’t turn back. Of course Uncle would sneak up on him like that.

“It’s about time,” he said a little sharply. “Can we leave now? Or do you still have more gossip to fit in before we pack up?”

“Nothing would please me more than to see you leave.”

Uh oh. That wasn’t Uncle’s voice.

Shoulders tensed, Zuko stood and turned on the spot to find Jeong Jeong glaring at him.

The old man narrowed his eyes. “Your uncle has a lot of nerve, bringing you here.”

Zuko’s face heated, and his hands clenched. “Believe me, I’m not happy about it either. I’ve been trying to convince him to pack up and leave since we got here.”

Jeong Jeong looked pointedly around the clearing before locking his glare back onto Zuko. “I’m sure you could be trying harder.”

“I—well—” Words failed him, and he had to clamp his jaw shut until he regained control over his voice. “Uncle is insisting that we can’t leave until he finishes some business he has with you. The sooner you get back there and talk to him, the sooner we’ll get out of your hair.” Stubbornly, he crossed his arms and turned back toward the river.

There was a crunching sound as Jeong Jeong advanced a few steps. “I have already heard of your uncle’s business, and I am not interested in discussing it any further.”

“He just wants to know if you’ve gotten a letter from Omashu. How hard is it to say yes or no?”

“If that were his only business, perhaps I would be willing to oblige. Your uncle has never been that straightforward in his dealings, though.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was Jeong Jeong angry that Uncle had asked for a few more days’ worth of provisions? Upset that Uncle hadn’t dumped Zuko at the nearest village before coming here? Or was it even more ridiculous? Probably, he decided. Jeong Jeong was probably mad that Uncle liked make rambling small talk at every opportunity.

“So what am I supposed to do about that? Go tell him yourself.” Zuko’s voice dropped a bit. “I thought you two were meant to be friends. And adults. Even I’m not this bad at talking to people.”

Jeong Jeong let out a harrumph. “Naïve boy. I have not counted myself as one of Prince Iroh’s friends for quite some time. Our goals and values do not align as they used to.”

“So now you’re telling me that he was lying to me? He said that you two were friends just before we got here.”

“He is stretching the truth at the very least. After everything, Agni only knows what possessed him to think that you of all people would be welcome here.”

The wave of frustration and annoyance that had begun to build inside him seemed to be approaching its peak, and Zuko turned back to face Jeong Jeong. “Then just tell him to leave, would you? Believe it or not, I don’t want to stick around with a bunch of people who hate me. I just don’t have anywhere to go without Uncle, and he’s not listening to me.” Looking away, he allowed his voice to drop. “Even the banners didn’t change his mind.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, Jeong Jeong stared at him.

“What?” Zuko snapped. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the banners. As soon as someone who knows what happened recognizes me, they’re going to—”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The banners!”

Jeong Jeong continued to stare uncomprehendingly.

“Of the forty-first division,” Zuko added, but a slight, questioning edge found its way into his tone. “After I spoke up—I know what happened to them. And what my father did—”

With a deep, disapproving frown, Jeong Jeong shook his head. “You really are a dunce, boy.”

An unpleasant tightness took hold in his chest, and Zuko clenched his fists tighter. “What are you talking about? I know what I saw.”

“Clearly you do not.” Hands clasped behind his back, Jeong Jeong started to turn toward camp again. “Perhaps that is for the best. You are far too eager to stir up trouble, Prince Zuko. To my understanding, that has always been your greatest fault. And it seems that your uncle has become far too willing to accommodate your foolishness.”

Had he? As far as Zuko could tell, Uncle had never exactly accommodated his more foolish impulses. He’d tolerated them, at best. And staying here with all of Jeong Jeong’s minions was definitely more Uncle’s foolishness than Zuko’s.

“My people have left the war behind for a reason,” Jeong Jeong added. “You will not drag them back into the fight.”

What? For a prolonged moment, Zuko was so baffled that all he could do was stare. And that pause, though brief, was long enough to allow Jeong Jeong to vanish back into the forest.

As he exhaled, Zuko felt his shoulders deflate.

That settled it. These people were clearly all out of their minds.

“Hey! You ain’t no possum chicken.”

Even after blinking a few times over, Katara couldn’t be certain that her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Haasi and Whiskers had been real, that much was clear by the fact that they’d taken her as far as a great bend in the river before vanishing. But the canoe bobbing in front of her, occupied by two men, one short and stout, the other gangly, and both dressed almost entirely in leaves—that seemed significantly stranger.

The stouter of the two men looked at the lanky one like he’d grown an extra head. “We ain’t lookin’ for no possum chickens, Due. Weren’t you listenin’ to Huu at all?”

“I heard ‘im just fine. But the last time he told me there was a visitor comin’ to the village, all I could find was ol’ Slim pickin’ through the scrap heap.” Due leaned forward, resting his chin against the blunt end of a spear. “Can’t believe he finally got one right.”

The bow of the canoe bumped lightly against the bank, and Katara instinctively reached out to touch it. This was probably just another vision. It would probably evaporate as soon as she made contact just like Mom and Zuko had done. But then her fingertips brushed against smooth, solid wood, and both men remained, looking as solid as ever.

Maybe that made sense, she realized. She’d never seen these men before. She’d never seen anyone even remotely like them before. If her mind was still playing tricks on her, why would it bother with inventing a couple of half-naked strangers?

“What’s going on here?” she asked, voice small. “Who is Huu, and why would he ask you to look for me?” It would be one thing if Sokka or Aang had found their way to some sort of settlement in the middle of the swamp and asked for help finding her, but it was quite another to hear that two strangers were looking for her because a third stranger had asked them to.

“Huu didn’t quite send us out lookin’ for anyone,” the stouter man said. “But when he come back into town tellin’ everyone that the spirits was stirrin’ like there was someone new out here, it didn’t hardly seem right to ignore ‘im.” He scratched idly at his bare stomach. “I thought we was lookin’ for a stranger all along, but it seems Due here was more interested in fillin’ his belly.”

“Don’t go blamin’ me for that, Tho. Every other time Huu has one of them ‘visions,’ there ain’t nothin’ to find out here.” Due paused long enough to give Katara an appraising look. “Since you are here, do you want a lift to the village? I’m sure Huu’ll want to meet you since the spirits told him you was comin’.”

Wary, Katara wrapped her arms tight across her chest. She wasn’t sure it would be wise to join a couple of strangers to visit a village she’d never heard of in the middle of the swamp, but the only real alternative she could see was to refuse and hope that the boys would stumble across her path sooner or later. That would definitely be unwise. And as odd as these two men were, it seemed that they were the reason Haasi had brought her here.

“I guess that depends,” she said a little haltingly. “If I agree to go with you and talk to this Huu person, could someone help me find my brother and our friend? The three of us—we got separated sometime yesterday, and I’ve been trying to find them ever since.”

“There’s more of y’all out here?” Due looked around as though half expecting one of the boys to leap up behind him. “Well, shoot, we might as well find ‘em. Just imagine ol’ Huu bein’ right three times in one day.”

Though the casual tone wasn’t quite as reassuring as she’d hoped, it was still better than nothing. She was too tired and too muddled to go on looking for the boys on her own anyway, so she gave in and clambered aboard the canoe.

Both Due and Tho, it turned out, were waterbenders. Not especially refined waterbenders by the standards she’d learned at the North Pole, but what they lacked in recognizable bending forms, they seemed to make up for with remarkable control over their canoe. Though the river was shallow and winding and the canoe was too long to reasonably squeeze through most of the gaps, the two men manipulated the water level so seamlessly that they never had to slow in the slightest to slip through tight bends or avoid unusually dense foliage hanging from the banks.

It was almost mesmerizing to watch the trees and vines whizzing past as the canoe glided deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp. So much so, in fact, that although the village was not well-hidden with all its domed huts built right up along the riverbank, Katara scarcely noticed it until Due and Tho ran the canoe smoothly up onto the bank.

“Hey, Lan!” Tho shouted to a passing woman before leaping out onto the shore. “Y’all seen Huu lately? Me and Due just found that stranger he was talkin’ about.”

“Not since this mornin’,” the woman shouted back. “And how do you know that’s the same stranger he was talkin’ about? You know how Huu’s always talkin’ nonsense.”

Due elbowed her lightly. “Hey, that’s a good question, Water Bug. Are you Huu’s stranger or some other stranger?”

Katara shot him a perplexed look. “How am I supposed to know that? All I know for sure is that I’m lost, and I need to find my friends.”

“Right.” Due hopped out onto the riverbank and motioned for her to do the same. “Ah, well. Reckon you’ll have to wait here a while anyhow, so you might as well try an’ talk to Huu when he gets back. He’ll know if you’re the one the spirits was talkin’ about, and he’ll know what needs to happen next.”

Would he? Though Katara didn’t have much choice but to obey and clamber out onto the shore, she couldn’t summon up even a fragment of confidence in this Huu person. How could she when it seemed that everyone who knew him thought he was at least a little bit crazy?

Chapter Text

Between Uncle and Jeong Jeong, it was hard to work out whose stubbornness was the most infuriating. On the one hand, Uncle was still refusing to leave. It was the end of their first full day out here, and since there was still no definite news from Omashu, it seemed that Uncle was still intent on staying for three or four. That was maddening enough. But on the other hand, Jeong Jeong wanted them to leave. He made no secret of that fact, and yet he was still refusing to do much more than glare at the two of them from the entrance of his little shack. If he could just swallow his pride for long enough to give Uncle a definite yes or no, none of them would have to deal with this aggravation anymore.

Okay, Jeong Jeong was probably worse now that he thought about it. He could get exactly what he wanted any time he chose. Zuko, meanwhile, was stuck trying to reason with Uncle all over again.

“Why does it matter so much if Jeong Jeong has heard from your friend in Omashu?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low. Much like last night, the few people still milling around camp were too far away to eavesdrop, but it was probably wise not to take any chances. After all, Zuko would inevitably raise his voice sooner or later. If he was smart enough to start off quiet, that might be less of a problem. “You wrote to him back in Chuanxi, didn’t you? He should know that we’re coming by now.”

“I imagine so,” Uncle said. “It would be extremely unusual if my message had been delayed for this long.”

“Great. So can’t we just go talk to him rather than counting on an angry old hermit?”

By the look that Uncle gave him, Zuko got the sense that there was something funny about calling Jeong Jeong an angry old hermit. “That is—perhaps not the criticism that I would have expected from you, Nephew.”

Zuko scowled. He wasn’t spectacular with people, and he didn’t have any plans to go out and make new friends considering—everything, but he wasn’t a hermit. Those were two very different things. 

Weren’t they? 

Uncle made a visible effort at suppressing his smile and cleared his throat before continuing. “Jeong Jeong does not seek out connections with many people outside of the community he has built here, but he has not severed every connection he has ever known. I understand that he has written to our mutual acquaintance quite recently.” He moved a piece on his shabby, borrowed Pai Sho board. “Had he not told me that himself, I would probably be less optimistic about receiving a reply.”

Somehow, the fact that Uncle had a reasonable explanation just made this whole mess even more frustrating. “That still doesn’t explain why we would need a reply in the first place. Your friend knows we’re coming. Why can’t we just go the rest of the way to Omashu and worry about everything else when we get there?”

“Just because a course of action is possible does not mean that it is wise,” Uncle said. “Omashu is a well-guarded city. While I do not anticipate any trouble entering, it may be more difficult to leave if my old friend has not prepared for our arrival.”

Zuko felt his brows furrow. “Who is your friend anyway? Why would he make it hard for us to leave?”

“I am not especially worried about my friend.” Frowning ever so slightly, he slid another Pai Sho tile forward. “But he does still live in an Earth Kingdom city. I know you understand the value of wariness in our circumstances.”

Great. So Uncle was just going to circle around questions instead of answering them now. “That doesn’t tell me who he is.”

“I know. But a name only means so much when you have not met a person. And if I were to describe this friend of mine—quite frankly, I’m not convinced that you would believe me.” There was a brief pause before Uncle looked up again. “Are you still concerned about the banners you saw?” 

Zuko glared. “What do you think, Uncle?”

“I think that while it is understandable to have some reservations, you have been entirely too eager to leap to conclusions since our arrival here. You must learn not to take things for granted, Nephew.”

“I don’t have to take anything for granted, Uncle! The stupid thing was right there in front of my face. I know what I saw.” 

“I do not doubt that. But it is very possible that you may have misunderstood its purpose.” Uncle gave a weighty pause. “Perhaps you should consider speaking with some of the men. It may prove an enlightening experience.” 

Why? If Uncle knew something about the forty-first that Zuko didn’t, he could just say it. Sure, Uncle had been right all those months ago when he’d pushed Zuko to talk to Katara—in the end, taking that advice was probably the best choice Zuko had ever made. But when it came to the forty-first, it wasn’t like there were any possible friends for him to make. The forty-first was gone. Nothing that any of the deserters could say would make that better.

Clenching his jaw, Zuko shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to them, and they don’t want to talk to me. Let’s just leave it like that.”

“Prince Zuko—” 

“I thought I told you not to call me that anymore, Uncle!” 

“The past cannot be ignored forever, Nephew,” Uncle resumed, unwavering. “I will not force you into anything, but I believe in this instance you have avoided the memories long enough. There may never come a better time for you to confront the past and begin to heal.” 

The retort he wanted to make died on his lips, and for a moment, Zuko couldn’t do much more than uselessly open and close his mouth. He had healed after his banishment. Sort of. His scar wasn’t an open, gaping wound anymore. He was positive that wasn’t what Uncle meant, but it seemed unlikely that any damage from his banishment that hadn’t healed at this point ever would heal.

“They would like to speak with you,” Uncle added. “That is not bias or speculation on my part. Several of the men I spoke with earlier today asked about you specifically.”

A scowl. “And I’m sure those conversations would go so well for everyone.”

“You will never know until you try. If I recall correctly, there was a time not so long ago when you thought the same about Avatar Katara.”

Zuko opened and closed his mouth for a moment, then when he couldn’t find an adequate response, he pushed to his feet. He wasn’t going to win this argument. It was probably better for both of them if he didn’t try.

“I’m going to bed, Uncle. Tell me if you and Jeong Jeong figure out how to talk to each other like the adults you’re supposed to be.”

“So you don’t plan on eatin’ either of the white critters,” Lan said for what felt like the fifth time in a row.

“No. Momo is a pet, and Appa flies us wherever we need to go,” Katara repeated. “They’re not food.”

When Appa lifted his enormous head and rumbled at her, she scratched him under the chin. She wasn’t exactly worried that anyone would try to eat Appa or Momo now that she’d made it clear that the bison and lemur were both with her, but that was very clearly what the swampbenders had intended when they dragged Appa back to the village. It certainly couldn’t hurt to stay close and stay vigilant while the boys were still lost out there in the swamp.

“Hmm.” Lan tilted her head so that the fringe of beaded braids—much like Haasi’s, but only long enough to brush her cheekbones—swung away from her eyes. “Seems a shame. The big ‘un could feed a whole lotta mouths for a long time. Hardly seems like flyin’ around is worth it.”

With a slow exhalation, Katara patted Appa’s nose. In a way, she was almost grateful for the chatter. At least with someone standing over her shoulder and peppering her with questions, she didn’t have very much time to linger on either the visions or her worry for the boys. She hadn’t forgotten either, of course, but they sat a little farther from the surface this way.

“Out here in the swamp, it’s probably not that helpful,” she admitted. “But my brother and I come from the South Pole, and we’ve been traveling all over the world with a friend for a few months now. This is probably the first place we’ve gone where the flying didn’t work out so well.”

Lan started to reply, but a sudden commotion from the riverbank broke Katara’s focus, and she turned toward the new noise instead. Just like when she’d arrived, a canoe ran up onto the shore, and Due leapt out, grinning. “Reckon I found one of ‘em,” he shouted before reaching back into the canoe. “Ain’t sure if this is the brother or the other one, but—”

In a blur of what might have been blue under all the layers of mud, Sokka tumbled from the canoe, and sat on the shore for a few seconds, looking bewildered and rubbing his ear where Due had grabbed him.

“Sokka!” Despite her tiredness and the obvious layers of grime on him, Katara practically launched herself his way. Then, almost the instant that her arms wrapped around his neck, she regretted her haste when the stench of stagnant muck assaulted her nostrils. “Oh, gross, Sokka. How do you manage to turn up smelling this bad?”

He looked a bit affronted at that. “Hey! Don’t give me that, Miss My Clothes Are Dry Because Bending. Not all of us get a choice about that when we get stuck out here in the swamp.” Then, as if to punish her for pointing out the odor, he used her shoulder to push himself back to his feet, then slung an arm around her shoulders when she rose as well. “So, uh—where are we, and what the hell is going on?”

Katara squirmed out of his grasp and fanned the stink out of her face. “The Foggy Swamp, apparently. The third Water Tribe that no one ever bothered telling me about.”

“Ah. I see.” Sokka rubbed his chin in mock solemnity. “That would explain why the guy who found me was waterbending, then.”

Behind him, Due hopped back into the canoe yet again. “Gotta go find that last kid,” he called back. “Did ya say he was covered in oranges?”

“I—no, I said he was wearing orange clothes,” Katara shouted back, but by the time that the words left her lips, the canoe was already pulling away from shore. She sighed. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll just have to hope that Aang decides to follow Due back here when he decides he found the wrong kid because there’s no fruit stuck to him.”

Sokka grunted. “I think you’re underestimating this place if you don’t think there’s a chance Aang will show up covered in fruit.” Then, after glancing around furtively like he was afraid someone might be listening—Due was gone, and Lan must have wandered off while Katara wasn’t watching—he grabbed her shoulder and steered her physically back toward Appa. “For real, though. What’s going on here? Which one of these swampy benders knocked a ten-ton fluffball out of the sky?”

“What?” Katara couldn’t help but glance over her own shoulder to check for eavesdroppers too. Not because she thought anyone would eavesdrop on them, but because the accusation would probably offend anyone who heard it. “Believe it or not, Sokka, I haven’t been going around pointing fingers at the people who were helping me find you.”

“Well maybe you should have! Think about it, Katara. Nothing has ever knocked Appa out of the air like that before. The only thing that even got close was flying a little too close to a Fire Nation ship and getting shot at.” Mercifully, he was keeping his voice low, and they were standing close enough to Appa’s side now that most of his wild gestures were hidden from view. “So this was probably a bender too, and since the thing that knocked us down was basically a big, swirly cloud, and clouds are made of water, it could have been a waterbender who did it.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. As theories went, that was—a little absurd, to be frank. She’d bent plenty of mists and fogs since she’d begun honing her skills, and if there was one thing she knew, it was that mist alone couldn’t exert much force on anything. Certainly not enough to knock a ten-ton bison out of the sky.

“You think the cloud was the problem? What about the wind, Sokka?”

He shrugged. “Move enough water around, and eventually the air will have to move too. Same thing, basically.” Then, when Katara’s skepticism didn’t abate, he tossed his arms out to the sides. “Okay, then, smarty pants. What do you think it was?”

“Not waterbending,” she replied flatly. “And not even close to the most important thing for us to be worrying about right now. Sure, something knocked us out of the air, but we’re on the ground now. Once Aang gets here, we’ll have to start worrying about what to do next, not how we got here in the first place.”

Sokka scoffed. “Yeah, like how to get out of here without getting knocked out of the sky again. You know, it sounds to me like you just want to forget everything that happened out there.”

There was something in his tone, a sort of forced offhandedness that surprised her, and Katara crossed her arms. “That’s a weirdly specific thing to say.”

He froze, then looked pointedly off to the side, craning his neck like he was trying to peer up into Appa’s saddle.

“Hey. Sokka.” She grabbed his shoulder. “What makes you think I saw something I’d want to forget out there?”

With a forced laugh, he shrugged her off. “What? I didn’t say anything like that. And it seems to me like you’re getting weirdly defensive, so—”

He trailed off, and for a few long seconds, they were both silent, staring at one another.

He’d seen something. There was no way around that. Probably a vision like she’d encountered—maybe something to do with Mom or Dad or Gran-Gran. She wanted to ask which it had been, or if his vision had been something even stranger than that. But if she asked Sokka about his visions, he would almost certainly ask about hers.

She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t bear to tell him about seeing Zuko or Mom, and if she wasn’t willing to talk, it was probably wisest not to press him for anything more.

Sokka, it seemed, felt more or less the same. After an uncomfortably long pause, he cleared his throat. “Well—good talk. I’m gonna—I don’t know. Probably change my shirt and take a nap or something. Wake me up when Aang gets here, would you?”

Zuko hadn’t planned on wandering off for a firebending session in the woods the following morning. He still wanted to leave more than anything else, but Uncle was still being stubborn, and Jeong Jeong had apparently left camp well before dawn. Again.

Any guilt that Zuko could have felt for implying that Jeong Jeong was childish yesterday was gone now. Childish was an understatement. Maybe Zuko’s insistence on staying out of camp was childish too, but at least he was only sixteen years old. Old enough to know that running away from the deserters he didn’t want to meet was immature, but young enough that he didn’t feel that bad about it.

Besides, while it might be childish to run off this way, at least he was doing his best to make some use of the time. He hadn’t found any safe opportunities to firebend since the North Pole, and he wasn’t likely to find many more chances once they left. If he wanted to stay in practice, he would need to take every chance he could find to drill himself on his forms. And one of the very few good things he could say about Jeong Jeong’s hermit deserters was that they wouldn’t turn him in for firebending.

After a brief effort at pushing through Uncle’s breathing exercises—he was too annoyed to keep his mind clear for long—Zuko pushed to his feet and slowly, deliberately, started at the beginning of his bending sequence.

His first fireball shot wide and struck a tree a foot or two to the right of where he’d aimed. Fine. He was out of practice. He should have expected as much. Frowning in concentration, he corrected his stance and repeated the motion again, but this time, the flame flew even farther off target to the left.

Brilliant. Maybe out of practice was too generous a description. In a matter of weeks, he’d gone from his strongest, his most controlled bending ever to just plain bad.

With an even, steadying breath, he stretched out his shoulders and started from the beginning again. It had been weeks since he’d last used his bending, he reminded himself. He’d been rusty when he arrived at the North Pole too. Not quite as bad as this, sure, but at least on Zhao’s ship, he’d been able to occasionally manipulate the lanterns. Out here in the Earth Kingdom, he had no such outlet.

It was normal that he would have lost his edge after all that time. He wasn’t a bad firebender just because he was having a little trouble picking it back up.

At least that was what he tried to tell himself. It was becoming harder and harder to believe it as he fumbled through his sequence, though.

“Hey! You’re Prince Zuko, aren’t you?”

Zuko jumped, and as he spun back toward the voice, an unflattering sound somewhere between a grunt and a hiccup burst out of him.

The floppy-haired deserter, Chey, took a step back and held up his hands in something like surrender. It took a second for Zuko to realize that he was still in his bending stance, then another second longer to notice that Chey was flanked on either side by two more deserters, probably each in their mid-twenties.

Wordless, Zuko shook his head. No, he couldn’t deal with the deserters right now. Not even if they were less grumpy and gossipy than the old men that Uncle had been spending all his time with.

Chey tilted his head to the side, forehead creased in apparent confusion. “Damn. If that’s not you, kid, you’d better tell Jeong Jeong. He’s been telling everyone that you’re the prince.”

Zuko blinked. “I—what? I didn’t say—I am Zuko, but I’m not—” 

“Oh. Well, then that’s what I was saying.” With a smile, Chey turned back to the other two men. “This is Prince Zuko. I told you he was really here.”

“I’m not—ugh! I’m not the crown prince anymore. I’m just—I’m nobody.”  

“Aww, don’t think of yourself like that. Jeong Jeong always says that every person here has something to give the world.” 

He did? That didn’t sound like the grumpy old man who Zuko had spoken to. Or, at the very least, it didn’t sound like something that Jeong Jeong was ever likely to say to Zuko. The deserters who lived here were probably a different matter. Still, none of that was important. He wasn’t being self-deprecating, he was being honest.

“I’m not royalty anymore,” Zuko snapped. “That’s all I’m saying, so if you three idiots are hoping I’ll put in a good word with my father or something, forget it. If I’m not dead to the rest of my family already, I will be if I ever try contacting them again.”

Chey shook his head. “Why would we want that? We all left the army. We’re not looking to go back.”

Zuko couldn’t find a good response to that, and for a few seconds, he could only splutter. And unfortunately, those few seconds of wordless spluttering gave Chey’s companions more than enough time to interject.

“Were you the one who leaked Bujing’s plans for the forty-first a few years back?”

Every impulse screamed for Zuko to run. To avoid this conversation at all costs. Father had made it clear three years ago that none of his protests had made a difference—that Bujing’s plans had gone forward, and the new recruits had been slaughtered. He didn’t need to hear it again. But Zuko’s feet had turned to lead, and it was all he could do to look away, hoping desperately that the men might relent and allow the subject to drop.  

“Yeah, I could never work out how exactly the news got out,” the other, shorter man said. “I always heard that someone in the division had a cousin who got word direct from Bujing, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Why would anyone with connections that high up get stuck in with a bunch of expendables? But then we heard that the prince was banished, and—I suppose there’s enough servants around there who could’ve spread the news. It’s hard not to think it was all connected now.”

It took all of Zuko’s concentration just to keep breathing. Had word of the battle plans somehow made it back to the forty-first before the fighting started? And if they had, didn’t that just make everything worse? The whole division had been wiped out. Knowing in advance would have been torture.

Unless the news had made a difference. Unless, somehow, there were actually survivors left after all this time.

But that wasn’t possible. Father had made that abundantly clear in his letter to Uncle. Father wouldn’t have lied about something like that.

Would he? 

“Jeong Jeong still thinks it’s all just a coincidence,” the taller, bulkier man inserted. “Convenient timing or something. But I don’t think I buy that. Jeong Jeong was a brilliant general, but he doesn’t have much in the way of imagination.” 

With an immense force of will, Zuko managed to find his voice again. “How—how do any of you know anything about the forty-first? Father said they were all killed, and—”

A shrug. “I suppose the ones who stayed might’ve been.” 

“The ones who stayed?” Zuko’s voice wavered, and he could hardly bring himself to care.

“Well, you can hardly expect all of us to stand around and wait for the axe to fall. We joined up to send pay to our families back home, but if you can’t make it a year on the lines, there’s no pension for your family. Desertion didn’t sound as bad when I found out I couldn’t buy them any extra meals either way.” The man nodded to his companion. “Isn’t that right, Masato?”

There was a grunt of assent. “That’s the way I see it. I’m no good to anyone dead. At least living in exile, there’s a chance I can still steal a messenger hawk and try to send them a few coins.”

It felt a bit like the ground had dropped out from beneath his feet, leaving Zuko stranded in midair. Like he would fall at any moment, but gravity had yet to take hold.  

It should have been impossible. Zuko’s protests hadn’t worked. No one at the palace had been anything but appalled by what he’d done, and even Uncle had never tried to convince him that he’d helped anyone. That he’d done the right thing, sure. But in the Fire Nation, doing the right thing didn’t usually mean good results. In fact, it seemed to mean the opposite most of the time.

But it wouldn’t have taken much. Zuko had made quite a lot of noise about the injustice of Bujing’s plan before the Agni Kai. And if a single servant, a single advisor had overheard his protests and passed the news about Bujing’s plan on from the palace—maybe it wasn’t so impossible after all. Maybe news had reached the soldiers here in the Earth Kingdom before the battle.

Maybe Zuko hadn’t entirely failed after all.

“You were there?” Zuko asked haltingly. “Both of you? In the forty-first?” 

“Of course we were. Us and a handful more here. Last I heard, there were a few dozen more living somewhere in the colonies too.” A pause. “So it was you who started spreading the word, then? Because if you did—well, I imagine a fair few of us wouldn’t be here without you, Prince Zuko.” 

Zuko couldn’t remember how to speak. He could scarcely even remember how to breathe. A hoarse “I—” crackled its way out of his throat, but his voice refused to go any farther. And with his voice stripped away, Zuko did the only thing he could still find the strength for. He turned on the spot, back toward camp, back toward Uncle, and he ran. 

Chapter Text

There was something wrong with him. There had to be. Though Zuko had sprinted all the way back to camp more than an hour ago, though he was almost entirely hidden from view in the mouth of his tent, he still couldn’t stop shaking.

He shouldn’t be shaking. He wasn’t upset. Not really. There were too many disjointed thoughts and feelings bouncing around inside his head to really be certain what he was feeling, but relief seemed to be mixed in there somewhere. Quite a lot of it, actually.

He wasn’t a failure. Not a complete failure, at least. He hadn’t saved the whole division, but at least a few of the soldiers had survived.

That was a good thing. He knew that. He just wished that his body would listen.

“Do you happen to know whether you spoke with Jiro and Masato?” Uncle asked as he passed a teacup across to Zuko.

He shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know if I heard their names.” Then, before his unsteady hands could send the tea splashing across his legs, he forced down a large swallow and set the teacup down on the ground in front of him.

“I see. I do suspect that it was them.” Uncle settled back with his own teacup cradled between his hands, making an obvious effort not to stare at either Zuko’s unsteady hands or the rippling in his cup. “Of all the people I have had the pleasure to meet here, they seemed the most determined to speak with you. And I may have my biases, but I believe the three of you would get along quite well.”

Zuko frowned, eyes fixed on the unsteady reflections of the sky in his own teacup. His shoulders felt light. Almost too light, with three years’ worth of guilt and regret lifted from his shoulders. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop shaking. For three whole years, he’d carried that weight around, and now that it was gone—or at least significantly lightened—he just couldn’t find his balance again.

“How long have you known?” Zuko managed when his voice decided to cooperate again. “I—I thought they were all dead for three years, and you—”

Uncle shook his head. “Not long at all. I admit that Jeong Jeong became rather cagey in his letters around the time of our leaving the Fire Nation, but he has always been suspicious by nature. If I saw any connection between the two things at the time, I did not spend much time lingering on it. There always seemed to be more pressing matters at hand.” He paused for several long moments before adding, “Had I known of their survival sooner, I would have tried to tell you, Nephew.”

“You would have tried?”

“Would you have believed it without proof?”

Zuko frowned. He didn’t like the fact that Uncle was making sense. It was much harder to dismiss his advice as nonsense if there weren’t ridiculous proverbs dropped into every third sentence.

With a sigh, Uncle took a sip of his tea, then set the cup delicately on the ground. “Even with proof, I do not know how much I could have said. Until very recently, news that might reflect badly on the Fire Lord often seemed unwelcome.”

“Yeah, well—maybe I would have taken it better if anyone bothered telling me the truth in the first place.”

“Perhaps,” Uncle agreed quietly. “But a half truth is often more harmful than any lie. For as long as I have known my brother, he has used that fact to his advantage. For all its drawbacks, silence often seemed the safest way to avoid repeating his mistakes.”

Rather than trying to respond, Zuko forced down another swallow of tea before pulling his knees up to his chest. As much as he wanted to, it was difficult to argue that point. Through the bulk of his banishment, he’d been a bit—intractable, and news about Father’s lies probably would have turned Zuko into an utter nightmare. Thinking back to his time commanding his ship was embarrassing enough already.

“Even if things had gone differently,” Uncle added after a few long moments of silence, “I do not think there would be any reason to be ashamed of how you responded to General Bujing’s plans.”

A slight scoff. “Aside from the fact that I was stupid enough not to realize how angry Father would be, you mean.”

“No. It was natural to expect better from him. A better man would have reacted very differently.” Uncle sighed. “Unfortunately, my brother has never cared for what better men would do.”

Zuko’s hands clenched, and he rested his chin against his knees. For all that he’d gotten used to the idea that Father wanted him dead, it was still uncomfortable to hear anyone talk that way. He wondered why that was. Why, after everything he’d been through and everything he’d learned, it still made him feel vaguely ill to hear anyone speak poorly of Father.

“He’s as bad as Zhao was,” was the best that he could come up with after a few seconds of thought. He hated that that was the strongest criticism he could find, but he didn’t have the energy to wrack his mind for anything more appropriate.

Uncle made a thoughtful noise. “I suppose the comparison is apt enough.” He paused, his teacup raised halfway to his mouth. “As Zhao was?”

Zuko’s face heated. “Uh—yeah. At the North Pole, he—there was a spirit, and Zhao got—eaten.” He did his best to look fascinated with the drab, grayish finish of his teacup.

“I see,” Uncle said, making an obvious effort at holding his tone steady. “Well, that is—quite a thing to have witnessed.”

“I didn’t see very much of it.” Thankfully. Seeing Zhao’s face wiped of all its features had been unsettling enough on its own. If he’d been close enough to watch as it happened, there was a decent chance that he wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to help Katara send Koh back into the Spirit World.

It looked like Uncle wanted to say something else—probably questioning how much he had seen—but there was a footstep somewhere off to the side of Zuko’s tent, and Uncle turned that way instead. “Oh! Good afternoon, Jiro. Masato. My nephew and I were just speaking about the two of you.

What? Zuko’s heart leapt into a frenzy, and he tried, somewhat clumsily, to scramble farther back into his tent. He certainly hadn’t been talking about them. And if Uncle thought this was a good way to get Zuko to open up, he was badly mistaken. There were reasons why he’d run back to camp and ducked into his tent to hide, and the fact that no one had formally introduced him to the men who’d survived the forty-first division wasn’t one of those reasons.

Unfortunately, the frantic scrambling didn’t do much good when his foot skidded across the pebbly ground and knocked against the side of his teacup, sending the remaining liquid splashing across the ground.

“Uh—good afternoon. Are we interrupting something?”

Yes, Zuko mouthed, scowling hard at Uncle. He was grateful that there were survivors from the forty-first, of course, but that didn’t mean that he was interested in talking to them. Not when Zuko was busy with—well, moping sounded a little too uncharitable, but he couldn’t think of a better word for what he was doing. And in any case, he thought he’d earned the right to mope a little. He’d just discovered that the last three years of his life had been a lie, after all.

“No, certainly not.” Uncle gestured warmly to the open space around the mouth of Zuko’s tent. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I believe my nephew was merely startled to hear anyone approaching. We have been left quite alone on this end of camp until now.”

From the shadows of his tent, Zuko glared daggers, but Uncle was too preoccupied with finding two fresh teacups to notice.

“I believe you all met earlier this afternoon,” Uncle said, handing a teacup to each man as they settled on either side of the opening, blocking Zuko in. “Nephew, this is Jiro and this is Masato.”

Both men peered into the tent as if he were a frightened turtleduck hiding in its shell, and the taller one, Jiro, nodded politely. “Sorry if we gave you a fright earlier. Chey insisted it would be a good idea to go looking for you.”

Zuko bristled. “You didn’t ‘give me a fright.’ I’m not a child.” Another glare at Uncle. “Sometimes people just don’t want to talk.”

To his surprise, Jiro seemed perfectly happy to accept that. “Suppose that’s fair enough. Still, I wouldn’t blame you for being a bit shocked if you’d been thinking the whole division was dead for—however many years it’s been now.”

“Three years,” Masato supplied. “I’ve got a little niece and nephew back home who’d just be old enough to start school now. I’m still counting the days for their sake.” He allowed his voice to drop a bit. “I don’t care what Jeong Jeong thinks. When those kids are old enough for conscription, I’m going to the front lines and bringing them back with me.”

Uncle raised his teacup in acknowledgement. “An honorable goal. I only hope that by that time, it will no longer be necessary.”

Masato grunted. “The war’s been going for a hundred years already. What’s another ten to the Fire Lord? As long as there are more kids to recruit, he’s got nothing to lose.”

There was an unpleasant twist in the pit of Zuko’s stomach, and his hands tightened into fists. It was true. He knew it was true, and he would not allow himself to say otherwise. He had to break that old habit.

“Why would Jeong Jeong have a problem with that?” Zuko managed, voice a bit ragged. “This place is already full of deserters. He can’t be surprised if a few more turn up eventually.”

“Oh, it’s not more people turning up that he’s worried about,” Jiro said. “Jeong Jeong just doesn’t want us getting involved in the fighting. Once we’re out, we’ve got to stay out, he says.”

Zuko frowned. That didn’t make much sense. If Jeong Jeong had enough clarity to realize that the Fire Nation was in the wrong, that the war itself was wrong, then surely he ought to realize that the only real solution was to end the fighting altogether. He’d put his life on the line for the Fire Nation in the past. So why, with his following of other Fire Nation deserters, couldn’t he do the same for peace?

“A load of rhino shit if you ask me,” Masato said darkly. “But what do I know? I’m just some fool from nowhere who was unlucky enough to be born a bender in the middle of a war. Even if I knew how to save each and every kid getting recruited, it’s not like anyone would listen to me long enough to help out.”

The knot in the middle of Zuko’s chest tightened, and his voice burst out against his will. “They’re not kids. It doesn’t make things much better, but if they’re going off to fight for the Fire Nation, they’re not kids anymore.”

Jiro gave him a strange look. “We weren’t officers, Prince Zuko. Neither were any of the others in the forty-first.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” Zuko replied, equally confused. “But no one can become a soldier until they’re eighteen.”

“No one can become an officer until they’re eighteen,” Jiro corrected. “Soldiers can be recruited as young as sixteen. Both Masato and I were too young to sign up for officer training when we left home.”

Zuko’s chest tightened even further, and his breath caught in his throat. Neither Jiro nor Masato looked especially old—Masato’s beard was a little scraggly like he was still trying to grow it out properly, and there was no facial hair to cover up the youthful roundness of Jiro’s face—but he would have placed them somewhere in their twenties, not at nineteen. Not just three years older than Zuko himself. He couldn’t imagine being conscripted to fight on the front lines, to die in battle at sixteen.

Or rather, Zuko could imagine himself being conscripted at sixteen. Banishment was different, but not by very much. But if he thought about other people his own age, about Sokka, Yue, even that asshole Hahn, it became completely absurd. Sokka still thought it was funny to startle people by shoving lemurs in their faces. There was no way he was old enough to be fighting on the front lines of any war.

“That’s—it’s crazy. Father shouldn’t let things like that happen,” he said almost involuntarily.

“At the time, I didn’t see it that way. I thought I was more than old enough when I left home.” Jiro paused with a slight frown. “I guess it’s messed up in hindsight, but how surprised can we be? You’re the crown prince, and you got banished at the same time we were sent off to battle. If the Fire Lord is willing to banish his own kid, there’s no way the rest of us ever stood a chance.”

“How old are you anyway?” Masato asked. “It’s been three years now. Seems like you must have been real young back then.”

“Sixteen,” Zuko answered, voice faint.

“Fuck,” Jiro said under his breath.

Masato just shook his head. “Perfect. He banished a thirteen year old. I suppose in a few years’ time, he’ll start recruiting kids that young too.”

Zuko wanted to respond to that. He wanted to say that Masato was wrong, that there was no chance Father would ever take things that far. But he couldn’t. Not when he himself was apparently old enough to be recruited in the Fire Nation military right now.

Uncle sighed. “I would very much like to believe that my brother would never stoop so low. Unfortunately, it is not impossible.”

“Well, can’t you two do something about it?” Masato demanded. “You’re both royalty. People listen to you. That’s more than the rest of us can say.”

Did they? Zuko had had enough trouble convincing his own crew to listen to him when he’d been loyal to the Fire Nation. Now that he was a traitor, even that was probably too much to ask. He certainly couldn’t go back to the Fire Nation and build up a following strong enough to change Father’s mind after everything he’d done. Even Uncle would probably struggle to manage that, and people at least liked him.

Frowning, Uncle shook his head. “As things stand for the moment, I do not believe that would be wise. I cannot in good conscience put my nephew in more danger while we are being hunted. But perhaps when we find a more stable situation—”

Almost involuntarily, Zuko shook his head. A more stable situation was probably never going to happen. Omashu would probably shield them for a few weeks—a few months if they were extremely lucky—but in the end, Azula would find them again. If Uncle wanted to get involved, to try ending the war, there was no use in waiting.

Except for the fact that fighting would mean either splitting up or dragging Zuko back into the war again. Just the thought of that, of either option, was enough to make his pulse race and his palms sweat. Zuko wasn’t one to back away from a fight, but Father still scared him. He couldn’t deny that.

Masato looked utterly disgusted. “I should’ve guessed. Why would anyone care about the rest of us when there’s a banished prince to worry about?”

“Masato—” Uncle began, but he didn’t get any further before Masato stood up and stormed away.

Jiro waited until Masato was out of earshot before leaning slightly in Zuko’s direction. “Don’t mind him too much. Ever since we heard the two of you were here, he’s been getting his hopes up. I think we were all expecting a couple of elite soldiers when we heard about General Iroh and Prince Zuko, not an old man and a kid.” He paused. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Uncle answered lightly. “I consider it a great privilege to have reached my age at a time like this. Not everyone is so lucky, as you well know.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zuko muttered. He’d been called plenty of worse things than ‘kid,’ but he wasn’t a child anymore. Not old enough to envision himself on the front lines, but decidedly not a child. “The strongest bender I’ve ever met is younger than me.”

“Oh?” Jiro tilted his head ever so slightly. “Princess Azula, or—”

With a scoff, Zuko shook his head. Azula was certainly better than him, but he was hardly going to pay her the compliment of calling her the strongest bender he’d ever met. He’d barely even seen her firebend when they’d met at Chuanxi. For all he knew, her progress could have stalled three years ago. He doubted that it had, but it wasn’t impossible.

“The Avatar,” he said quietly.

“You’ve met the Avatar?”

A nod, and Zuko became all too conscious of the beads hanging around his wrist. Hastily, he twisted them out of Jiro’s sight and pushed the twine farther up beneath his sleeve.

Unfortunately, Jiro seemed to notice the gesture, and his brows crept downward. “Were you—I mean, did you fight against the Avatar or with him?”

Zuko cleared his throat. “A little of both, I guess? Bringing the Avatar back home was supposed to be how I ended my banishment, but—I probably shouldn’t talk about it.” Deserters or not, no one here was likely to take kindly to his friendship with a presumed enemy. Besides, he couldn’t manage a conversation about the Avatar without letting it slip that Aang wasn’t the first person that title brought to mind.  

“Well, if you know the Avatar and you’ve fought along with him, that solves everything, doesn’t it? He’s got to be trying to end the war too, and—”

While Jiro was still speaking, Zuko’s eyes drifted slightly upward, and he caught a glimpse of Jeong Jeong standing at the far end of the clearing, staring daggers at him over Uncle’s shoulder. His voice failed him before it could even start, and after a moment, both Uncle and Jiro glanced back in Jeong Jeong’s direction.

“Oh. I guess we’re in trouble now,” Jiro said a little dryly.

Zuko couldn’t find any such levity in the situation, and he wound up half-paralyzed, staring back at Jeong Jeong. Hatred and mistrust were all too familiar to him now, but this, for some reason, felt different. Deeper, almost.

With a tremendous effort, Zuko pulled his eyes away.

It was late by the time that Due and Tho returned to the village with Aang in tow—so late, in fact, that she and Sokka had already taken turns napping in Appa’s saddle. Late enough that they were halfway through a rather unusual evening meal with the remaining villagers. Late enough that even if they weren’t already exhausted from their ordeals of being lost in the swamp, it would have been unwise to set off before sunrise.

That was fine, Katara told herself. Aang was unhurt, and aside from the obvious tiredness, seemed relatively unbothered by his time out in the swamp. Since all three of them were back together, they could just get a good nights’ rest, say their thanks to the Foggy Swamp Tribe, and set off toward Omashu first thing in the morning. There was no healing to be done, no reason to explain her visions to the boys, and once they left the swamp behind, there would be no reason to think about the visions ever again.

She couldn’t wait for that moment. The sooner she could forget seeing a smaller, more frightened version of Zuko and see the real Zuko instead, the happier she would be.

Unfortunately, when morning came, Sokka was decidedly less enthusiastic about resuming their journey than she was. It took all of Katara’s will to keep from grabbing him by the ear and hauling him bodily into Appa’s saddle to leave.

“All I’m saying,” Sokka said, reclining back against one of Appa’s legs, “is that this place is weird. Something knocked us out of the sky the last time we tried to fly over the swamp, and I don’t trust it not to happen again.”

“So how long are you suggesting that we stay?” Katara asked. “We’ve asked, and nobody knows how that happened.”

“That is not the best argument for trying to fly out of here, Katara. I don’t know about you, but just because I didn’t break all my bones last time doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry to test my luck again.”

“Yeah, well something went wrong last time isn’t the best argument for lying around either. We have to get to Omashu, remember?”

Sokka stuck his tongue out at her.

Great. A lot of help he was.

She stuck her tongue out at him in return.

“I bet that’s why everyone wants us to meet that Huu person,” Aang said, dangling backward out of Appa’s saddle so that he could tease Momo by swinging a colorful leaf just out of reach. “If he talks to the spirits and stuff, they probably told him why Appa got knocked out of the air.”

“Maybe,” Katara said slowly. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine getting that straightforward an answer from anyone. Not when even Due and Tho seemed to think Huu was, if not crazy, then at least pretty close to it. And if even she was skeptical of Huu’s mystical powers, she could only imagine how thoroughly unconvinced Sokka would be.

“Believe me, I’m not thrilled about how much this is messing with my schedule,” Sokka said. “But if we try to fly out of here and end up needing another swampbender rescue mission to pull us all out of the mud, that’s even worse for the schedule. I don’t know if anyone here can tell us what happened last time, but it’s probably worth waiting a few extra hours or whatever.” He shot a look at Katara. “So sit down, would you? The pacing is getting ridiculous.”

She refused. Stillness made it too easy to stare out into the trees surrounding the village. Staring out into the trees made it too easy to start noticing odd shapes in the shadows. And those odd shapes always seemed a little too close to transforming themselves into another faint imitation of Zuko or Mom.

“So what happens if we meet this Huu person and he doesn’t know what knocked us out of the air either?” she asked, kicking at a half-rotten stick as she paced. “I don’t think we’re going to get any guarantees even if he does have some idea what happened. Are we just going to stay here forever because you don’t want to take the risk of flying over the swamp again?”

Sokka rubbed his chin in thought. “Well—honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I don’t have a backup plan for every possibility. Not this early in the morning.” He made a show of yawning as broadly as he could, then gave up the pretense almost instantly when Momo shoved a tiny hand into his open mouth.

“We could take the river,” Aang said. “It would be slow, but Appa can float on his belly for a really long time. We’d get out sooner or later.”

 That, unfortunately, sounded like a reasonable option. Reasonable, but deeply unpleasant. Katara frowned. “I guess if we don’t have any other choice. I just—there’s a lot of weird spirit stuff going on out there, and once we leave the village, I’d rather get out of the swamp as fast as possible.”

With a groan, Sokka pushed Momo aside and tossed an arm over his forehead. “Yeah. The last thing we need is more spirit bullshit.”

“Wait.” Aang snapped upright so abruptly that he seemed to nearly lose his balance. After grabbing the edge of the saddle again, he fixed Katara with a stare. “You guys know about the spirity stuff happening here too?”

She clamped her jaw shut. No. No, she didn’t want to talk about this right now.

Sokka looked just as reluctant, but Aang didn’t seem to mind that. He leapt down from the saddle, landing so close to Momo that the lemur screeched in protest and hid behind Katara’s leg. “This is great! I didn’t want to tell you guys right away because it probably sounds a little crazy, but when I was out there, I saw some weird stuff. Like—I thought there was another person out there with me. That kind of weird.”

It took a powerful force of will to hold her expression anywhere near steady. Of course he’d seen something weird out there. Of course he’d seen people who weren’t actually there. At this point, she would have been much more surprised to hear that he hadn’t. But the fact that Aang seemed excited about the visions made her even more reluctant to talk about her own.

After staring at her for a few long seconds, Sokka sighed and sat up straight. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. What did you see out there?”

Aang shrugged. “A girl.”

“Okay. Like a specific girl, or—”

“Well—yeah, but she wasn’t a girl I know.” He frowned, tilting his head to the side as though he were trying to dredge up all the details. “I’m pretty sure she was Earth Kingdom. She looked like it, anyway. Dressed up really fancy, and running around laughing with this little flying boar, and—” Aang stopped, staring first at Sokka, then at Katara. “Wait. You guys don’t seem surprised. Did you see strangers who weren’t really there too?”

For a long, tense moment, they were both quiet before Sokka scoffed and shook his head. “Man, I wish.”

“So you didn’t see anything? Or did you see something bad?”

Again, Sokka glanced Katara’s way before answering. “I saw our dad.”

“Oh. And—was it something scary, or—”

“Just our dad. He wasn’t there but I saw him anyway, and that’s not supposed to happen.” Sokka cleared his throat and jerked his head in Katara’s direction when he’d finished. “It’s really not that interesting. I’ll bet Miss Avatar over there has a much better story than I do.”

Her insides turned cold, and for a moment, all Katara could do was shake her head. No. No, that wasn’t a story she was willing to tell. But unfortunately, the boys had her somewhat cornered here. If she couldn’t admit to something, they would both know she was lying.

“Mom,” she admitted quietly. “I saw Mom out there.”

“Oh. I thought it was going to be something worse than that.”

Bristling, she turned a glare on Aang. “Mom died six years ago, Aang. I don’t want to see some spirit wearing her face as a mask.”

“Well yeah, but I just thought—”

Before he could go any further than that, Sokka scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. “What the hell is that thing?”

Katara didn’t want to listen to him. At the moment, she was a little too irritated with Aang to care about whatever Sokka was blabbering about. How would he have felt if a vision of Monk Gyatso appeared out of the mists only to vanish the moment that Aang tried to reach out? He probably wouldn’t be happy about it either, and it was utterly ridiculous that he couldn’t understand—

Sokka grabbed Katara and Aang each by the top of the head and turned them both forcibly in the direction he was staring.

Just a handful of paces away, a great, greenish-brown lizard with a broad, flat head waddled its way out of the undergrowth and let out a long, menacing hiss.

With an involuntary shriek, Katara wriggled out of Sokka’s grasp and lunged toward Appa’s saddle.

“Hey! That doesn’t answer my question.” Sokka swiped for her arm but couldn’t quite catch it in time. “What is that thing?”

“I don’t know, but one of them tried to eat me the other day, and I don’t want to take my chances again!”

She was nearly up into the saddle with Momo clinging to the back hem of her tunic and the boys scrambling to climb up on either side of her when a familiar shout cut through the commotion.

“Hey there! Slim! You leave them nice kids alone, hear?”

Heart racing, Katara threw herself up over the saddle’s rim before looking back to find Due and Tho approaching from the river again. Instead of scaring the lizard off with bending or sticks, though, they stopped alongside it and looked up at her and the boys like they’d all hit their heads.

“Y’all don’t need to be fussed about ol’ Slim here,” Due said cheerfully. “He don’t bite.”

“Naw, he do bite sometimes,” Tho inserted, stooping to pat the lizard’s nose. “But he ain’t got no teeth. Couldn’t hurt a soul if he tried.”

Katara didn’t believe that. Her hands clamped down on the edge of the saddle. Teeth or no teeth, that was entirely too big for a lizard to be. If she looked silly for staying up here in the safety of Appa’s saddle, she was fine with looking silly.

“Are you sure about that?” Sokka called back. “Katara says one of those things tried to eat her the other day.”

“Oh, them wild ones’ll try it. Not Slim, though. He’s a good ‘un.” Tho scratched beneath the lizard’s chin before straightening back up. “Wasn’t y’all waitin’ to talk with Huu?”

Reluctantly, Katara nodded. If it meant walking past that lizard, though, she would probably be fine with forgetting that part. She wanted to get to Omashu as soon as possible anyway.

“Yeah,” Aang said excitedly. “Why, is he here?”

Due and Tho exchanged a look before Due answered. “Well—naw, he ain’t here. Huu don’t come back to the village that much. But—” He paused a bit dramatically. “The cricket frogs is getting’ real restless just east of here. If y’all want to meet Huu, this might be your best shot. He probably won’t even fight you too much if me an’ Tho take you there.”

Chapter Text

Even after meeting him, Katara didn’t know what to make of Huu. He was a Foggy Swamp waterbender like Due and Tho. He, like the others, was dressed entirely in what appeared to be leaves. And once they finally got close enough to speak with him, he had the same laidback drawl as all the other people in the Foggy Swamp.

But none of the similarities could quite outweigh the strangeness of gliding up to a wriggling mass of vines the size of Appa, just for the vines to separate and reveal a man’s round, smiling face in the middle of the vine-creature’s chest.

Huu was strange. That was the only solid conclusion that Katara could reach. Where the other swampbenders used techniques that were comprehensible, if a little unrefined by her standards, Huu seemed to have a completely distinct set of forms that allowed him to manipulate plants more readily than water. Where the others were outgoing, Huu seemed a bit more reserved, and where the others were almost unreasonably fixated on food at times—at least enough to loudly speculate about the amount and quality of meat they could get from a sky bison and a flying lemur—Huu was apparently far less interested in necessities like that.

“You gotta come back to the village more, Huu,” Tho admonished. “Else how’re we supposed to know if the weird things we find have got anythin’ to do with your visions?”

Huu titled his head ever so slightly to the side. “Y’know, it never occurred to me that they might. Them spirits is real noisy sometimes, but they ain’t often concerned with our world.” With that, he stepped from his tangle of vines up onto the muddy shoreline, apparently oblivious to the fact that bits of leaves and swamp grass were still clinging to his shoulders. “So the Avatar came here after all.”

Aang perked up. “Yeah, we didn’t really mean to stop here, but the wind kind of decided that for us. And now—”

Huu stared blankly at him for a moment or two before his eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh! I was thinkin’ of the other one.” He jabbed a thumb in Katara’s direction with a chuckle. “Can’t say I was expectin’ two of you, but I reckon there ain’t no harm in talkin’ to the both of you.”

For a few seconds, Katara was too stunned to either speak or move. As annoyed as she usually was to see Aang claim the title of Avatar without a moment’s pause, she wasn’t actually prepared for anyone else to recognize or acknowledge her. She’d only just learned enough earthbending to slide a rock around, after all. She hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of practice calling herself the Avatar yet.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sokka’s eyebrows shoot upward, and he glanced from Huu to her and back again. “Uh—I may not be a fancy-pants bender, but I think all three of us need to talk to you. Something or someone knocked a sky bison out of the sky the other day. And since no one back at the village knows anything about it—”

“Sokka,” Katara said.

“Oh?” Huu looked far more curious than Sokka’s speculation warranted. “How d’you reckon that woulda happened?”

“Some waterbender down here messed with the clouds so much that it got really windy up there, obviously!”

That, at least, seemed to poke a hole in Huu’s curiosity. “Don’t think that’s quite how waterbendin’ works. Least not any I’ve ever seen.” Frowning, he looked upward and scratched his chin for a few long moments. Then, “But since y’all are here, there’s a few things I oughtta talk with the Avatar about. The banyan-grove tree ain’t too far from here.” He sidestepped all three of them and began walking farther inland. “Come along, Avatar. And the other Avatar. And the third one, if you want.”

Slow, deep breaths, Zuko reminded himself. If Uncle was telling the truth, they could be miles away from Jeong Jeong and his stupid camp by this time tomorrow. And although he didn’t mind the place quite as much after meeting Jiro yesterday—not that he would ever admit as much to Uncle—Zuko was more than ready to leave it all behind.

From here, he thought, they probably had another three weeks’ worth of walking to get to Omashu. If they were lucky. If Uncle didn’t have a dozen other unpleasant hermit friends to visit along the way.

Somehow, he doubted that he could possibly be that lucky.

Still, he was restless being here, and even an uncertain future sounded better than waiting around here for Uncle and Jeong Jeong to make up. At the very least, they were unlikely to come across another camp full of deserters between here and Omashu. Anything else would probably give them a little less cover, and consequently, give them a little less excuse to sit still for so long.

At long last, he reached the end of Uncle’s breathing exercises and rose into a bending stance. He probably wouldn’t have another chance to practice again for weeks or even months, and considering how rusty he’d been yesterday, he either needed to make the most of his time today or give up on the idea of firebending altogether.  

Though his first few forms pushed him toward the latter, he found his stride after a few minutes, and the flames bloomed from his fingertips like they’d been waiting there all along. It figured. Uncle would probably tell him that the turmoil he’d felt yesterday had been blocking his chi, and now that he’d met Jiro and Masato, his energies could run freely or something. That was nonsense. He was just on his second day of practicing again. There couldn’t be anything else to it.

He was nearly through his basics, nearly beginning to feel competent enough to tackle some of his more difficult forms, when a set of footsteps approached him from behind.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Scowling, Zuko threw another fireball at a nearby tree. At this rate, Jeong Jeong was going to turn up three days after he and Uncle left this stupid place just to ask more annoying questions. “Possibly losing my firebending if people don’t let me practice. Why? Do you actually care what I’m doing?”

“I could hardly care less about your bending practice.”

Zuko scoffed. Of course. That cynical old hermit didn’t seem to care about anyone or anything outside of his precious little deserter camp. Or some of the people inside it, for that matter. How much could he really care if he was unwilling to let the people living here try to help their families?

Jeong Jeong’s footsteps came closer, circling around until Zuko could see him from the corner of his eye. “I imagine you would consider it a great loss were your bending to diminish.”

What? His flames faltered, and Zuko turned to stare. “I—well, I don’t think I’m going to have much chance to use my bending from now on, but—why wouldn’t I consider that a loss?”

“You of all people should know the destruction that fire can bring.” Expression steely, Jeong Jeong advanced by a step. “But I suppose I can hardly expect better from a member of the royal family. Obsessed with power and devastation, all of you.”

Another scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do I not? Tell me, what good has ever come of your family’s firebending?”

It took a few moments for Zuko to form a response—less because he needed the time to think than because he had to take a few breaths to steady his temper. “I’m not the rest of my family.”

Jeong Jeong narrowed his eyes.

“I saved the Avatar’s life,” Zuko resumed, keeping his voice as low, as steady as he could manage. “I shielded her from an explosion that was supposed to kill us both. I pulled her out of a lake at the North Pole and stayed up firebending half the night to keep her from freezing to death. I fought alongside her every step of the way when Zhao’s fleet attacked the North Pole.” Despite his best efforts, the heat began to rise in his tone. “Maybe I’ve messed up before. In fact, I know I have. For years. But I don’t think I could ever regret anything I did after I joined her, whether it has to do with my bending or not.”

“Naïve boy.” The derision in Jeong Jeong’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “Do you not see the harm our flames have caused?”

“Don’t you see that someone has to clean up the mess the Fire Nation made?” Zuko shot back. “Who else is supposed to do it? You were a general, weren’t you? If you’re so worried about the harm the rest of us are doing, why aren’t you out there helping instead of hiding out here in the woods?”

Jeong Jeong’s expression darkened. “This is precisely why I asked General Iroh not to bring you here.”

“What?”

“You are a disrupter. Everywhere you go, it seems that chaos follows. You cannot seem to leave well enough alone, and that is the last thing we need here.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed. “Uncle and I are leaving tomorrow. How much trouble do you think I could possibly cause before then?” He turned away and tried to remember where in his sequence he’d left off. After the interruption, it would probably be wisest to just start over, but he wasn’t sure he had the patience for that.

“I think you’ve done more than enough damage already,” Jeong Jeong retorted. “Meddling in things you don’t understand, stirring up Jiro and Masato—”

“What?” Zuko repeated, spinning back. “I barely even talked to them. Uncle called them over, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t stir anyone up.”

“Well, they are certainly stirred up now.” An undercurrent of rage in his voice surged up toward the surface, and Jeong Jeong gestured wildly back toward camp. “Masato is out there right now asking all the men about their families back home. Telling them that their children and all the children in the Fire Nation are about to get pulled into this war. That if they want things to change, all they need to do is step back into the world and make their voices heard.”

For a few seconds, Zuko could only stare. Really? That plan sounded oversimplified—and he wouldn’t put it past Jeong Jeong to deliberately distort what Masato was telling the others to make it seem absurd—but if Masato was genuinely trying to agitate the other deserters into action, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Was it? Zuko wasn’t exactly in a position to lead anyone, and he doubted anyone would want to follow him anyway, but someone had to do something about the kids being sent to die on the front lines. If Masato had some idea how to accomplish that, Zuko wouldn’t stand in the way.

“I didn’t tell them anything they couldn’t figure out on their own,” he said. “Just how old I was when my father banished me. I can’t control what they’re going to do with that. If Masato wants to fight back now, he was probably always going to do it sooner or later.”

Jeong Jeong glowered at him. “Perhaps if you had not interfered, he might have been wise enough to consider the consequences. To think about the sorts of men that he will come up against if he goes forward with his foolish plans. Men like your father, General Bujing, Admiral Zhao—”

At that, Zuko shook his head and turned away again. That was all the proof he needed that Jeong Jeong didn’t know what he was talking about. “Zhao is dead,” he said flatly, sinking back into his bending stance. “I was there when it happened.” He shot one more look over his shoulder. “I’m leaving with Uncle tomorrow morning. Whether all your deserters decide to go out into the world and end the fighting isn’t up to me. But if you’re so scared of them getting themselves into trouble, maybe you should try helping them rather than hiding in the woods because you’re too afraid of your own element.” With that, he drew in a deep breath and swung back into his forms.

Although Huu had explicitly told them all that they were heading toward something called the banyan-grove tree, it took Katara a few minutes longer than she cared to admit that they were, in fact, climbing up the side of a tree. The slopes were gentle enough, and the roots blanketed in thick enough layers of moss, that it was remarkably easy to mistake the lower section of its trunk for a series of oddly-shaped hills. It wasn’t until they reached a series of mossy vines woven into a ladder leading up to an enormous, gnarled branch that the realization sunk in, and she understood that they had already reached their destination.

“Go on an’ shimmy on up here,” Huu called down to them. While he had hoisted himself up by bending a load of sodden vegetation from the swamp floor, he apparently knew better than to engulf other people in vines and swamp grass without asking. He jostled the vine ladder a bit. “It ain’t as bad as it looks.”

The ladder wasn’t quite as steady as she would have liked either, but Katara scrambled to the top all the same, trying her best to ignore the way that the vines creaked beneath her weight. She wondered how often this ladder was used. How often anyone but Huu climbed up into the branches of this massive tree. Probably not much, she guessed. But she’d come this far already. As much as she wanted to leave the swamp behind, it didn’t make much sense to turn back now.

The view from the top of the branch, she had to admit, was impressive. Daunting too, when she looked out over the rest of the swamp, at the canopy of trees below them—the same trees that had seemed so enormous when she fell from Appa’s saddle. From here, the swamp stretched on for miles and miles in every direction, and she could only imagine how staggeringly long it would take to cross that whole length without Appa.

“Have a seat,” Huu said warmly, motioning her and the boys to sit in a semicircle in front of him. “Ain’t no use in visitin’ the very heart of the swamp if you don’t sit down and feel it.”

Katara obeyed, then almost immediately regretted the spot she’d chosen. She was getting used to the fact that the swampbenders mostly wore leaves—it wasn’t like they had to worry about frostbite out here—but she hadn’t really considered the potential drawbacks of sitting across from a crosslegged man wearing what amounted to a leafy loincloth. As subtly as she could, she angled herself to the side so that her view was a bit less direct.

Huu didn’t seem to notice. “All the life out there in the swamp, every plant and animal, it all ties right back to here. Once a person finds enlightenment, they can sometimes even feel what the spirits is up to out there. That’s how I get the idea ya’ll could be somewhere close in the first place.” He studied Katara for a moment. “I reckon if anyone can feel an’ understand all that energy movin’ around, it’s gotta be the Avatar.”

Beside her, Sokka shifted from one side to the other. “I don’t know about spirit energy, but I can feel the water in this moss seeping into my underwear.”

Katara elbowed him. “Then find a dry spot to sit, smart guy.”

“I would, but that doesn’t solve the damp-underwear problem.”

“I can’t tell if I’m feeling the spirits’ energy,” Aang said, just a bit louder than necessary. “But I do feel something. Kind of like the tingly feeling I always get before I go into the Avatar State.”

Huu looked briefly confused, then chuckled. “That’s right. I keep forgettin’ that’s both of y’all. You’re right, little fella. That’s the energy of the swamp speakin’ to you.”

Aang scratched the top of his head. “Well, if it’s speaking to me, it’s not speaking very clearly. The spirits I’ve met usually talk just like normal people.”

“Sometimes they do. I imagine hearing ‘em through the banyan-grove tree is a mite harder than talkin’ face-to-face, though. But you’re just startin’ off. Still got lots of blocked-up chi sittin’ around inside you. Once you’re all trained up and in touch with all the other Avatars, they’ll probably make more sense.” Huu turned his attention back to Katara. “How about you? Seems you’re a bit farther along than your friend.”

Her hands clenched. Farther along how? She knew less bending than Aang did, and she was stuck with roughly half of the other powers that came with being the Avatar. “Oh. Uh—I’m not sure I feel anything at all,” she said haltingly. “But I can’t go into the Spirit World either, so I wouldn’t be surprised if all that spirit energy stuff just doesn’t work for me.”

“That don’t seem right.” Rubbing his chin, Huu studied her closer. “Ain’t you ever talked to a spirit before?”

“I guess so,” she conceded after a pause. “I’ve met Avatar Haasi a few times, and a few other spirits made it out into the physical world. I’ve never been to the Spirit World, though. And I don’t really get the tingly feeling that Aang is talking about either.”

“Ah. Guess I don’t know much about goin’ into the Spirit World myself. But you oughtta be close to connectin’ with the spirits. There’s only one big blockage that I can see in you.” He pointed vaguely toward his belly button. “Somewhere in here, I reckon.”

“My stomach?”

“Naw, a bit lower than that. Where your waterbendin’ comes from. I can sense a real big tangle in your chi right there. Get that one opened up, and you’ll be close to gettin’ a handle on the Avatar State and everythin’ else.”

Katara’s hand went involuntarily to the point just below her belly button. She could feel the energy there. She always could. She couldn’t understand how that could possibly be a problem, though. Like Huu said, that was where waterbending came from. Why shouldn’t she have a lot of energy sitting there?

“That’s not my point,” she said, forcing her hand back to her side. “Aang and I are both the Avatar, but that doesn’t mean we both have all the Avatar’s powers. I can’t go into the Spirit World, and a lot of this other spirit stuff—it’s just never going to work for me.” She stopped herself there. The last bit, the part that Haasi had told her back on Crescent Island all those months ago, was still more than she was willing to say aloud. If none of the past Avatars had told Aang that his waking up after being stuck in the iceberg was the reason their powers had split, she wasn’t going to be the one to break the news.

Again, Huu stroked his beard. “That ain’t what I gathered from Avatar Haasi. She spoke with you out there in the swamp, didn’t she?”

Reluctantly, Katara nodded.

“And you saw more than that, didn’t you?”

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away. They should have left when they had the chance. At least then she might not have to think about the visions so much.

“She told us she saw her mom,” Aang piped in. “Not very much else, though.”

Katara shot him a glare. “That’s because I don’t want to talk about it, Aang.”

Huu, though, didn’t seem to need any more detail. He nodded knowingly. “Ah. So that’s why all that bound up energy is just sittin’ there.”

“What?”

“You’ve lost people before. The swamp showed you their faces, didn’t it?”

Mom’s smile flashed through her mind again, followed almost instantly by Zuko’s scream and his wide, terror-stricken eyes. She did her best to shake both images out of her head before finally nodding. “Yes, I saw them, but—”

“You reckon you coulda stopped it if things had been different? Maybe they’d still be here if you’d been ready?”

Katara’s throat tightened so badly, so abruptly, that she didn’t think she could respond if she wanted to. Of course she did. She knew that things could have been different. If she’d just planned a little better, Zuko never would have had to leave the North Pole. Or if she’d trained a little harder, she could have been ready to leave with him straight after the battle. They could still be together right now if she hadn’t been so fixated on keeping him hidden from the Northern Tribe. And when it came to Mom—Katara was the Avatar. Even as a little girl, she ought to have been able to do more. Mom should still be here too.

“That’s it, then,” Huu said, a little quieter than usual. “All them faces of people you lost are still followin’ you around. Someday, you’re gonna find a way to leave all that regret an’ guilt behind, and when you do, all that energy tied up inside you is gonna bust loose. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that was all it took to open up all the other pathways to get you talkin’ with the spirits all you like.”

She still couldn’t answer. That just wasn’t possible. Even putting aside everything that Haasi had said—which didn’t make sense, because Haasi was another Avatar, and as far as Katara could tell, knew better than almost anyone how all this Avatar stuff worked—she could never set aside that guilt, that regret. Or maybe she could feel better about leaving Zuko behind someday after they’d finally reunited, but nothing could ever change where Mom was concerned.

Mom was never coming back. Nothing that Katara could do now would ever make that okay.

When she was quiet for a few seconds, Sokka cleared his throat. “So, uh—that’s not the only thing the swamp visions show people, is it? Because I saw our dad, and he’s alive. Right?”

“I saw someone I never met before,” Aang inserted. “I don’t know for sure, but it would be pretty weird if the swamp only showed people who are gone, and it picked a stranger for me. I was born a hundred years ago. I know lots of people who died.”

Huu gave a slight, perplexed frown. “I’ll be honest, little fella, I ain’t got the slightest clue what the swamp mighta been tryin’ to tell you. It don’t help that Avatar Haasi didn’t say nothin’ about you, but ain’t any one thing blockin’ your chi that I can see either. Guess you’ll just have to find that person you saw out there for real and see what lessons you can learn.”

Aang pouted. “That’s not fair. Why do I have to figure everything out myself just because I’ve never met Avatar Haasi before? It’s not my fault she wasn’t in the Spirit World when I went there.”

Sokka clapped him on the shoulder. “Look on the bright side, bud. You’ve met Avatar Roku, right? Maybe what you need is a loony old man from the Fire Nation to interpret all of Roku’s nonsense.” He paused dramatically. “Someone like General Iroh, for instance.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

If Huu was bothered by the implication that he was also a loony old man, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he gave Sokka a nod. “The little fella’s right, though. Not everyone we see out there is gone. Some of ‘em is just lost.”

Katara glanced back just in time to catch Sokka grimacing. “Thanks. That sounds—possibly even worse.”

Chapter Text

When the sun finally rose the following morning, Uncle seemed apprehensive about leaving. The letter he’d been waiting for still hadn’t arrived, and Jeong Jeong was still—himself. Even if he knew anything useful, it didn’t seem likely that he would bother telling them.

None of that bothered Zuko. They were moving again. With every step that took them farther from the deserters, he felt just a little lighter. So much so that after an hour or so of walking, he almost didn’t notice the weight of his pack. His tent, sleeping bag, and more than half of the other provisions and supplies were nothing in comparison with Jeong Jeong’s constant, looming presence. And at least the supplies were helpful.

“All things considered,” Uncle said as they picked their way southward, following along the riverbank as much as they could, “I do think that was quite a pleasant and productive visit. Wouldn’t you agree, Nephew?”

Zuko raised his eyebrow. He could think of plenty of ways to describe their time in Jeong Jeong’s camp, but ‘pleasant’ wasn’t one of them. Neither was ‘productive.’ At best, it was enlightening to see just how dysfunctional a pair of grown men could be after an old friendship descended into weird, one-sided animosity. “The only way I could call Jeong Jeong ‘pleasant’ is if I was comparing him to Father.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose I can see why you would say that.” There was a pause, and Zuko could feel the eyes on the side of his face. “But it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“Leaving was okay, I guess.”

Uncle let out a harrumph. “I meant meeting Jiro and Masato, Nephew. After all these years of uncertainty and regret, was it not pleasant to discover that they are alive and well?”

Eyes fixed on the overgrown path ahead, Zuko clamped his hands around the straps of his pack. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the answer that Uncle wanted. It wasn’t like it would be a lie either. There was very much a part of him that felt better, more at ease, knowing that his protests hadn’t been entirely in vain. He was grateful to know that Jiro was free to live his life in an Earth Kingdom forest, and that Masato was free to—probably foment a revolution, if he got his way. All of that was good. Even Zuko’s usual, gnawing pessimism couldn’t do much to diminish that.

But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t just be happy, couldn’t just be grateful that he felt like less of a failure than before. Father had lied to him. Father had ignored all his protests, sentenced an entire division to die, failed to have all those new recruits wiped out, and then lied about it, all apparently to make Zuko feel miserable and helpless. The deception had worked for three long years, and yet somehow, Zuko still couldn’t just be angry at Father. Somehow, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t been able to save more of the forty-first. Why, after all he’d been through and everything he’d learned, he was still too afraid to dive headfirst into helping the next batch of soldiers escape Father’s wrath.

Aside from Azula, of course. From a strictly practical perspective, it wouldn’t be wise to throw himself into any new causes with Azula on his trail. But somewhere deep down, he had a feeling that even without her pursuit, he would still be running.

He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I guess they weren’t too bad.”

“That is not the sort of conviction I would normally expect from you.” Another sly, sidelong look. “I don’t suppose it’s possible that meeting them stirred up some old desires to agitate amongst the Fire Nation ranks.”

“You’re starting to sound like Jeong Jeong.”

“Am I?”

Zuko nodded. “He kept accusing me of trying to start a revolution or something.” As he turned to avoid a downed branch, he shot a pointed look back at Uncle. “Between him and Master Pakku at the North Pole, I’m beginning to think that I could give you advice on how to find better friends.”

Uncle chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do have a habit of acquiring unusual acquaintances. But at my age and with my history, it’s difficult to be picky. There are only so many people in this world who are willing to put up with an old fool like me, and as it happens, many of them have spent decades solidifying their own quirks.”

A grunt. “Great. So what kind of quirks does this next one have? Do I have to get ready for another grumpy old hermit, or a horrible, stubborn old bending master, or—” He couldn’t think of a way to describe Mi Cha, so he cut off there. She had seemed marginally less miserable a person than either Pakku or Jeong Jeong, but Zuko himself had been so miserable in Chuanxi that he hadn’t paid much attention.

Uncle seemingly ignored the jabs at Pakku and Jeong Jeong. Instead, he just stroked his beard a few times. “I don’t believe that Omashu will be our next real stop. There is a flower seller within a week’s journey from here who will likely allow us to stay a day or two. From all I have been able to gather, she is quite a friendly person.”

Fine. A week of travel followed by a day or two of rest didn’t sound too terrible. Zuko had lasted longer than that with Jeong Jeong, and he was fairly certain that Uncle never described him as friendly.

“And as for my friend in Omashu—” Uncle paused, and it was hard to tell whether he was thinking or just trying to pick his way through the patch of brambles lining their path. “He is most certainly unusual. Eccentric, I think, would be the kindest description.”

Great. Zuko made a face before following Uncle’s path through the brambles. ‘Eccentric’ sounded like a delicate way of saying that the man was insane.

“I think Omashu will be good for you,” Uncle continued. “As a matter of fact, I am almost certain that your friends paid the city a visit on their journey north. And if I recall our correspondence correctly, I believe my friend mentioned knowing them as well.”

Zuko’s heart skipped, and he felt his mouth go dry. “What are you trying to say?”

“Well—nothing certain so far. The last reliable information I received was in Chuanxi when the Avatars had just begun their training in Bei Haian.” Uncle emerged on the far side of the bramble patch and turned back to give Zuko a searching look. “But my friend in Omashu could certainly contact them if you like. It may mean a slight delay in their training, but I have reason to suspect that their current arrangements in Bei Haian may be less than ideal. Perhaps they would welcome a chance to complete their training in Omashu instead.”

A sudden, painful tightness took hold in his chest, and Zuko stopped in his tracks. “How—how long have you been planning this?”

“It has never been a definite plan,” Uncle said evenly. “Only a possibility. But I will admit that the idea has been in the back of my mind since we left Chuanxi.”

Of course. Zuko should have guessed as much. He should have known that Uncle wouldn’t choose a destination at random—there was always another reason. Always another plan lying just beneath the surface, and Zuko was always too stubborn or incurious to dig that far.

“It would be difficult not to see how much the separation has affected you. And since it seems clear to me that befriending Avatar Katara and all her friends was beneficial for you, I would be hard-pressed to find any reason to avoid a reunion. Unless, of course, there is something I have missed.”

Slowly, wordlessly, Zuko shook his head. No, he was fairly certain that Uncle knew all the important bits. That he’d made friends, that he’d fought alongside them with everything he had, and that leaving felt a bit like tearing his own chest open. Of course he wanted to see them all again. The hollow ache that seemed to blossom every time he thought of them—of Katara in particular—was more than enough to confirm that.

But that deep, aching loneliness was precisely the problem. He wanted to see them all again. He wanted it so badly that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be strong enough to let them go. And with Azula chasing him, that desperation to hold on would just make him a liability. Azula didn’t know about the others. She wasn’t chasing them, at least for now. How could he possibly justify drawing that much danger their way?

“I just—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he managed after a pause.

“How so? You all seemed to be getting along very well when I arrived at the North Pole. I can hardly imagine that they would be unhappy to see you again.”

Frowning, Zuko twisted the beads around his wrist and ran a thumb over the smooth blue ivory. Maybe Uncle was right about that. Maybe the others would be just as happy to see him again as he would be to see them. He couldn’t entirely discount the possibility that they cared at least that much.

Uncle’s eyes went down toward his wrist, and Zuko hastily let go of the beads and scratched the back of his neck. By now, Uncle had almost certainly noticed the beads at some point, but Zuko didn’t want to encourage any questions about them if he could help it.

“Finding them won’t change the fact that Azula is chasing us,” Zuko said, voice low. “And if finding them again just means putting them in danger—if I’m just going to have to leave anyway, it’s easier not to get my hopes up.”

He could feel Uncle’s gaze on the side of his face as he picked his way through the rest of the brambles, but thankfully, no further questions came. Then, when he caught back up and Uncle began walking again, Zuko allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

Good. So long as they could leave the conversation here, there was at least a small chance that he could keep his resolve from breaking.

“Certainly, certainly.” The woman behind the counter rustled through an overcrowded shelf for a few seconds before she managed to find a scuffed and stained ink bottle tucked behind a mound of stubby scrolls. “Goodness, I must say it’s been quite some time since I had anyone in here to send a letter. Most people around here don’t have much to say unless it’s harvest time, and Baiyu doesn’t see many visitors for the rest of the year.”

When the woman shot a smile in his direction, Zuko did his best to unobtrusively angle his scar away. He’d tried to convince Uncle to leave him at the edge of the village, but since they’d been walking for three days already, Uncle insisted that such a small detour couldn’t do any harm. And maybe Zuko could have agreed with that if only the shopkeeper were a little less intent on getting him to join in on the conversation.

Uncle let out a warm chuckle as he accepted the ink. “I had gotten the impression that my nephew and I had stumbled across some less-frequently used roads. But this is a lovely area. I could not be more pleased with the detour that brought us here.”

“Oh? And where might you be headed to end up on a detour through Baiyu? We aren’t exactly on the way to anyplace important.”

That’s the idea. Frowning, Zuko turned just far enough away to pretend he was engrossed by a shelf stacked high with paper-wrapped bundles of herbs. According to Uncle’s map, this was practically the nearest scrap of civilization to Jeong Jeong’s hermit camp, and from here, it was still a few days’ journey to anywhere larger than a farming village. If they were lucky, that might mean that news traveled slower out here.

“Perhaps not anywhere important by most standards.” Uncle smoothed the paper that the woman handed him and opened the ink bottle. “But I have an old friend in Senlin. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to visit since my nephew and I were headed south anyway. Besides, at times like these, I often find that the quieter roads make for much safer travels.”

“I suppose that’s true enough. The Fire Nation doesn’t seem to bother us too often.”

As quietly as he could, Zuko meandered away from the counter, doing his best to keep Uncle in his periphery and his scar out of sight. For now, their provisions were holding out reasonably well—enough so that they could probably make it as far as Senlin before running low—but since Uncle had insisted on coming here to send one last warning letter ahead to Omashu, it couldn’t hurt to at least pretend he was looking for food.

The chatter at the front of the shop quieted a bit as Zuko moved farther away and Uncle grew more focused on his letter. He was probably telling his friend something about Zuko’s friendship with the Avatars—probably either urging an invitation for Katara and the others to come to Omashu or doing his best to slow a previous invitation. Zuko didn’t have the heart to ask which it was. Right now, he didn’t know whether the urge to see Katara was stronger than the urge to protect her or not. And even if he did, Zuko doubted that he’d be brave enough to say it.

“Now let me see.” The woman turned to study a small, slightly crude map tacked to the wall. “Senlin is the village by that grand old forest, isn’t it? It’s been years now, but I’m almost certain I’ve seen the place.”

Uncle nodded. “That is precisely the place. I don’t suppose you are at all acquainted with Madame Nuwa, the florist?”

“I can’t say that I am. My husband and I used to take all the grain harvests to Omashu for trade every year, but since I lost him, it’s been simpler to hire the young men around Baiyu to make the journey instead.”

“You have my deepest condolences.”

The woman gave a small hum of acknowledgement. “I suppose those days are gone as well. It’s a shame. I always meant to see the city again once my daughter was grown.”

Although Zuko wasn’t trying to listen in, something in those words gave him pause.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Uncle said gravely, lowering the brush for a moment. “Losing a child is—”

“No, no, no. My daughter is perfectly well,” the woman amended hastily. She paused, brows furrowing. “You two aren’t—were you planning to go on from Senlin to Omashu?”

“Indeed we are.” Uncle looked back over his shoulder at Zuko, but there was something apprehensive in his expression. “I’ve done quite a lot of travel in my time, and Omashu seems like an excellent place for my nephew to grow up.”

Zuko didn’t like this. There was a growing tension in the air, and the shopkeeper kept looking from him to Uncle and back again with something akin to pity in her eyes. What was that about? His pulse quickened, and his hands clenched into fists.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unwise?”

Uncle gave a small, forced chuckle. “Moving anywhere in wartime is probably unwise. I certainly wouldn’t have chosen it if there had been another option, but we are at least fortunate enough to have an old friend willing to help us settle in.”

Again, the woman looked long and hard at Zuko, then at Uncle. “So you haven’t heard the news, then.”

Frustration got the better of him, and Zuko took a step forward. “What news?”

“It’s just that—King Bumi isn’t on the throne anymore.” She paused for a few beats as though hoping that she wouldn’t have to say the rest. Then, when neither Zuko nor Uncle responded, she added, “The Fire Nation conquered the city.”

Shit.

Slowly, Sokka lowered the spyglass from his eye. He’d only scanned over a single segment of the city wall, but he didn’t need to see much more. He didn’t even need the spyglass, frankly. He remembered Omashu well enough to know at a glance that this was bad.

“Give me that.” Without waiting for a response, Katara snatched the spyglass out of his hand.

He shot a glare her way. “You know you could ask, right?”

She ignored him.

With a sigh, Sokka looked out to the city walls again. Shit. There weren’t quite as many banners here as there had been at the invasion fleet at the North Pole, but it wasn’t far off. If he looked away and unfocused his eyes, it almost looked like the city was bleeding.

On his right side, Aang crouched as close to the ledge as he could, wide-eyed and stock-still. On his left, meanwhile, Katara couldn’t seem to stop moving, to stop searching every inch of the walls. It looked very much like she was planning to leap up and make a run for the city as soon as she could find an opening between the soldiers.

Sokka jabbed her with his elbow. “I don’t think staring is going to help scare them off,” he hissed. “There’s way too many of them. You shouldn’t need a spyglass to tell that we need to go.”

Katara lowered the spyglass just long enough to glare at him. “Okay then, plan guy. Since when do you like charging into things without any information?”

“Charging in? Uh-uh. No way. I’m saying that we need to leave. Nice work guys, we tried, but Omashu is off the table.” He snatched the spyglass back from her and slapped the ground before backing away from the ledge. “Come on. I don’t want to camp this close to that many firebenders.”

It was a bit of a shame, really. The beds in King Bumi’s fancy prison cell had been surprisingly nice. The actual guest accommodations were probably incredible. Plus there was the earthbending master thing to worry about. They’d wasted an awful lot of time by not asking around for bending masters in all the towns they’d passed, and starting that search from scratch would inevitably suck.

Still, sleeping on the ground and occasionally bothering the locals had to suck less than a city filled with firebenders. Even the Foggy Swamp sucked less than that, and the Foggy Swamp was mostly a big pit of suck.

“What?” Katara shot to her feet. “We just got here, Sokka. We can’t just leave.”

“Sure we can! See? Flying bison, right there. All we have to do is climb on up and get out of here before anyone sees us.” He turned to Aang for support. At least he had the sense to be scared. “Right, Aang?”

“I don’t really think that—”

“Our friend could be down there,” Katara interrupted, voice sharp. “I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and run just because things got a little dangerous. I’m not saying that we have to stay here, but I’m not leaving without him.”

Nodding vigorously, Aang pulled himself back from the ledge at last. “Yeah, that’s right. Bumi needs our help.”

For a second, Katara seemed stunned. Then, “Right. Of course. Him too.”

Liar. Sokka crossed his arms. “That’s not who you were talking about, and you know it.”

“So? Now there’s two people down there who need our help. Three, if we include the general. That’s three very good reasons to find a way in and try to help.”

A long, aggravated sigh. One problem at a time. “Katara, Zuko isn’t down there.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I can too!” He threw his arms out to the sides. “He’s traveling on foot. The note said it would be two months, but if I’m being generous, he could probably walk this far in six weeks. And it hasn’t been six weeks yet.”

Katara planted her hands on her hips. “Just because they left Chuanxi on foot doesn’t mean that they had to walk the whole way. The general has friends scattered all over the Earth Kingdom. Any one of them could have given him and Zuko an ostrich horse or something, and they could be here way sooner than they planned.”

“Balance of probabilities says that didn’t happen,” he shot back. “If they wanted to move faster, they’d have to be out in the open on roads and shit. We killed enough time looking for them to know that they’re counting on staying out of sight.”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that?”

“Yes!” Sokka threw his arms out to the sides. “When the alternative is running blind into a city packed with firebenders, the answer is always going to be yes.” Spirits, it wasn’t like he was being unreasonable about this. They could even resume their search for the fire jerk while they were looking for a new earthbender. It might even be easier this time, since there were only so many directions that Zuko and the old guy could approach Omashu from. All they had to do was zigzag just outside of the Fire Nation’s reach, and they’d cross paths sooner or later.

“It doesn’t matter.” There was an uncharacteristic gravity to Aang’s voice that made Sokka’s jaw clench. “We have to go save Bumi either way.”

It wasn’t just his jaw clenching now. Sokka’s stomach did an uncomfortable twist. “Buddy—he’s the king, and the Fire Nation invaded the city. I don’t know what they did to get him off the throne, but I can promise you it’s nothing good. For all we know, there might not be anything left to save.”

“I don’t care. Bumi’s my friend, and—and if you don’t want to come with me, then I’m just gonna go down there and help him myself.”

Katara took a step closer to Aang. “Don’t worry about that. You won’t be going down there alone.” Scowling, she jutted out her chin. “Try and stop us if you want. Sure, there’s a lot of firebenders down there, but there are people who need our help too.”

“You guys are just—ugh!” Sokka pressed the heels of his hands to either side of his head and squeezed in a vain hope that he could maybe find another way out of this. Another way to convince them that their stupid, half-baked, and likely pointless rescue plot was in fact, stupid, half-baked, and likely pointless. There were plenty of things he could say, but the trouble was that neither Katara nor Aang seemed interested in listening. “This sounds like a really dumb way to get killed.”

“Okay. So stay here and hang out with Appa and Momo if that makes you feel better.” Katara turned on her heel, angling toward the path that led into the city. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

When Aang turned to join her, Sokka let out an enormous, lengthy groan, then a string of half-coherent curses. This was a bad idea. Possibly the worst idea.

“Oh, for the love of—” He jogged a few steps to grab them each by the collar before they could step out into plain view. “Not right now. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right. Or—you know. At least not in broad daylight.” He released them both when they stopped walking and shot a scowl first at Katara, then at Aang. “Now sit down so we can try to come up with a plan, would you?”

Chapter Text

Omashu looked different by the faint, watery light of the moon. The streets felt narrower and more circuitous than Katara remembered, but the city itself felt larger, like every block stretched on for miles.

Of course, it was possible that entering the city through the sewers instead of the main gates had thrown her off a bit. It was dark, and when they reemerged just inside the city wall, the shadows were long and dark enough to consume everything from the second-story windows down. Between the darkness, the unfamiliarity of this end of the city, and the firebenders lurking unseen in the shadows, it may as well have been a different place entirely.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Sokka hissed when they dodged around a corner to avoid an approaching set of footsteps. “With all this twisting and turning, I’m starting to think you’re going to take us right back to the main gates.”

“The palace is right in the middle of the city,” Aang whispered back. “As long as we keep moving up, we’ll get there eventually.”

They weren’t moving upward at the moment. At best, they were skirting alongside the slope, but Katara strongly suspected that they might have turned downward instead. Still, there was only so much that they could do when Fire Nation soldiers could ambush them from any direction at any moment.

Sokka gave a displeased grunt. “I still say that the palace is the last place we should go. Where do you think the Fire Nation set up their new headquarters?”

“Well—yeah, but where else would they have taken Bumi?”

“I dunno. Someplace with fewer rocks for him to throw around, probably?”

Though he couldn’t possibly see it in the dark, Katara made a face. “In case you haven’t noticed, the whole city is made out of rocks. I’m sure the palace is just the easiest place for them to guard.”

“Again, I’m not seeing how that’s an argument for going there first. If we mess up getting into the palace, that’s it. We’re done.”

Because that’s the only lead we have. As much as Katara wanted to devote herself entirely to looking for Zuko, she had to admit that the city was a little too big for that to make sense. There were hundreds of houses to search, each with a dozen nooks and crannies for people to hide in. If he was here somewhere, he could be anywhere. Bumi, on the other hand, was almost certainly imprisoned if he was still alive. There couldn’t be too many places in Omashu strong enough to hold him, so it couldn’t take long to narrow down his location.

And once they’d managed that, Bumi might be able to point them in Zuko’s direction. Until then, Katara would just have to test the limits of her own patience.

“I think I remember a secret way in,” Aang said. “Kind of like how we got into the city.”

“So more sewers, then?”

“Well—not exactly. When we were kids, Bumi said that it used to be a—”

There was the faintest flicker of light along the right side of the street, and Katara grabbed Aang’s arm with one hand while fumbling for her waterskin with the other. She was fairly sure that the light had come from one of the houses, but with firebenders swarming all over the city, that wasn’t reassuring. The boys, it seemed, thought the same thing, and Aang brandished his staff in front of him while Sokka reached back for his boomerang.

A door creaked open just ahead of them, slow enough to give Katara time to prepare a water whip before an old woman poked her head out, squinting and holding a candle in one hand.

“Hmpf. I should have known it would be a bunch of children. Anyone else should have the sense not to make so much noise.” For all the harshness in her tone, she did manage to speak remarkably softly, and she squinted even harder to scan them all up and down. “Haven’t you heard what they do when someone breaks curfew?”

Katara shot a bewildered look at the boys and hastily fed her water back into the waterskin. The old woman didn’t seem to be Fire Nation, at least. “Who exactly are they?” she ventured, lowering her voice as much as she could.

“The firebenders, child. Spirits, have you been living underground or something?”

Sokka shrugged. “Sure, why not? Let’s go with that. We’ve been living underground.”

Katara elbowed him. “I mean which firebenders are they? The Fire Nation has a lot of soldiers, and some of them are worse than others.”

The old woman made an annoyed-sounding grunt. “Of all the silly questions—fine. If you insist on being absurd, at least step inside before those thugs come along and see you.”

“I must thank you again, Madame Iseul,” Uncle said as they made their way down the street. “I certainly could never have expected such a generous offer from a stranger.”

It was later than Zuko had realized—after the news about Omashu, Uncle hadn’t been in any fit state to walk for an hour. It felt like an hour, at least. And as much as Zuko would have preferred to get out of town as soon as possible, even he couldn’t be too upset about the shopkeeper offering them shelter for the night. Not when Uncle was clearly in shock over the sudden evaporation of their plans. For Uncle’s sake, he could deal with being around strangers for one night.

“Nonsense.” Iseul gave a dismissive wave. “Strangers you may be, but leaving you without a roof over your heads would have been cruel. Especially when your travels have been so unceremoniously disrupted.” There was a soft creak as she pushed a gate open to reveal a small, neat garden encircling a modest little house. “After all, a day may come when my daughter and I need to run from the war as well. It wouldn’t seem right to ask others for help if I made a habit of turning travelers away.”

“I will do my best to pass the favor on once we find someplace to settle,” Uncle said. “After we find some way to repay your generosity, of course.”

Zuko hung back as much as he could on the way through the garden. There was already a light burning somewhere inside the house, and in the faint glow that made it out to the windows, he could make out the shadow of someone moving around inside.

His stomach clenched. On second thought, maybe he was a little less prepared for dealing with strangers than he’d realized. It probably wouldn’t be fair to change his mind entirely and ask Uncle to leave town now, but maybe Zuko didn’t have to stay. Maybe he could take advantage of the pleasant weather and pitch his tent just inside the garden gate rather than imposing on Iseul. Maybe it would be better if Uncle did all the talking, all the socializing for both of them.

But before he could make a move that way, before he could pull Uncle aside and explain that he just wanted to keep out of the way as much as possible, the front door opened, and a girl stepped out.

“Ah, you’re home,” Iseul said cheerfully as she mounted the front steps. “Mushi and Lee, I would like you both to meet my daughter. Song, these two gentlemen will be staying with us for a day or two.” She leaned like she meant to whisper in Song’s ear, but she did a poor job of lowering her voice. “They were hoping to move to Omashu after the Fire Nation took their village, the poor dears.”

“That’s terrible.” Song’s gaze locked on Zuko a little too quickly, and he did his best to angle his scar away. He really ought to start wearing a hat or something. Maybe then he would attract a little less attention. “I’m sorry you had to come so far before hearing the news.”

Uncle bowed low. “You are both too kind. I hope that my nephew and I do not impose too much.”

Hands clenching the straps of his pack, Zuko pretended to be enthralled by the neat rows of newly-sprouted crops, by the trellises waiting for vines to begin climbing up toward the sun. The girl was still staring at him. He didn’t have to look her way to know that. The weight of the gaze on the side of his face was confirmation enough.

Ugh, this had definitely been a bad idea. Of course Uncle could blend in perfectly well, but Zuko stood out too much. For all he knew, there could be wanted posters circulating by now. Song might have seen a sketch of his face, and it was only a matter of time before she figured out where she remembered him from if she didn’t already.

“I just got home a few minutes before you,” Song said after Uncle and Iseul had gone through another cycle of thanks and reassurances that no thanks were necessary. “The clinic was a little busy today, so I’m afraid there’s nothing started for dinner yet. But it shouldn’t take too long, and then—”

“We have food,” Zuko said almost involuntarily, his voice harsher than he intended. “You don’t have to worry about Uncle and I starving or anything like that.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Iseul waved the suggestion off like it was nothing. “I won’t hear of my guests eating travel rations when a hot meal is so little trouble. Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

The tunnels under the city, it turned out, were more extensive than Aang had told them. Which was probably a good thing. Whether or not this section of tunnels connected with the ones Aang remembered leading in and out of the palace, the fact that there were more tunnels meant that they would have to spend less time on the surface. And if they spent less time on the surface, they should have an easier time getting into the palace.

If the firebenders hadn’t found the tunnels, anyway. There seemed to be plenty of barely-concealed entrances scattered around the city, and Katara wasn’t convinced that all those hatches and trapdoors could have gone unnoticed for long.  

The old woman studied them closer under the torchlight. “You’re the Avatar, aren’t you?”

Katara had to pinch herself to keep from responding as Aang nodded. Not right now. She’d have to start admitting her own identity sooner or later, but a city swarming with firebenders probably wasn’t the right place.

“You’ve got no idea how right you are, lady,” Sokka said flatly.

“Hmpf. You’re lucky we’ve all got more important things to worry about now. I haven’t forgotten all the fuss you caused sliding around the mail chutes.” She turned, waving for them all to follow her.

They didn’t have to go far before the tunnel broadened into a chamber of sorts where a few tunnels branched off from one another. Crates and barrels lined the walls, and a handful of green-clad people sat or sprawled across them like they were benches and cots.

“The Avatar is here,” the old woman announced. A young man sleeping atop a row of crates stirred, and several of the others jerked to attention. “Full of questions too, so look alive.”

The flood of introductions and questions that Katara expected came, but it was quieter, more subdued than she anticipated. Like these people weren’t just tired, weren’t just keeping their voices down to keep from alerting any of the firebenders on the surface. Like they really weren’t that interested in either meeting or talking to the Avatar. Like the invasion of their city had squashed any hopes they might have once held for things to get better.

“It’s been almost a month,” a middle-aged man lamented. “But nothing changes. That Ukano bastard is still acting like he’s done us a favor moving in and taking over the palace. And what’s King Bumi done about it? Not a single thing.”

“That’s not fair.” Aang jutted out his chin. “I’m sure Bumi did everything he could. You can’t blame him for what the firebenders did after they locked him up.”

“I can if he didn’t do anything to stop them in the first place.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.” Sokka stepped up between them and placed one hand on Aang’s shoulder and the other on the stranger’s. If he noticed the way the man was looking at him, he didn’t seem to care. “Bumi did what now?”

“Nothing. He didn’t do shit.”

The old woman nodded. “Just opened up the gates and let the whole army in. Our men were ready to fight, but they never got a chance.”

Katara shot a sideways look at Aang, who seemed too shocked to speak. She could hardly blame him for that. “Do you know why he did that?” she asked.

The man shrugged. “Damned if I know. No one’s been able to talk to him since the Fire Nation moved in.”

“I’m guessing it would’ve had something to do with the army,” Sokka said. He leaned one shoulder up against a wall and crossed his arms. “Like—maybe there were way too many soldiers to fight or something. That’s assuming that Bumi would do something that made sense, though.”

A grunt of agreement. “He should’ve said something if that was the plan. Seems more likely to me that the old man’s finally lost his edge. He should’ve passed on the throne while he still had the chance.”

At long last, Aang seemed to shake himself out of his shock. He squared his shoulders and clamped his hands into fists. “No. No, Bumi knows what he’s doing. He has to. As soon as we get to him, Bumi is going to have a plan to get rid of the firebenders. You’ll see.”

“When you get to him?”

“Well—yeah. We’re here to save Bumi and help get the firebenders out of the city.”

Sokka’s eyes widened until it looked like they might pop. “Whoa, slow down there, buddy. Get the firebenders out of the city?”

“Yeah. We made it this far. We should be helping.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that singlehandedly taking on a Fire Nation army is going to be much help.”

Katara had to agree with Sokka there. Having a place to stay in a city like Omashu would certainly be better than constantly running from the nearest group of Fire Nation soldiers, but if that possible safety and stability came at the cost of fighting back an entire invasion force that even Bumi had been unwilling to fight, maybe travel wasn’t so bad after all. At least when they had the general and Zuko—and maybe Bumi too, if Aang got his way—traveling along with them, they would have a better chance at fighting off any possible ambushes.

“I think we need to know what exactly we’re dealing with before we make any decisions,” she said hastily. The last thing they needed was for Aang to run off and try taking on the firebenders himself, especially when there were so many. “How many of them are there, and who’s in charge?” Then, after a pause, “Did any other strangers show up around the time that the Fire Nation came in?”

She caught an exasperated look from Sokka, but none of the others seemed to think there was anything wrong with the question. The old woman frowned. “Can’t say I noticed anyone special around that time. A few hundred or thousand soldiers coming in to take things over seemed more important than any other strangers coming through.”

Right. That figured. Besides, if Zuko and his uncle had arrived, they probably would have been disguised well enough to more or less escape notice. Katara folded her arms and did her best not to look too disappointed.

“The person they’ve got in charge now is a bastard called Ukano,” the man added. “As far as anyone can tell, he’s not a soldier himself. Probably wouldn’t know a sword from a hole in the ground, but he showed up a week after all the others and took over like it was nothing.”

“So do you have any idea who was leading the soldiers?” Katara didn’t know many Fire Nation commanders by name, but the few she did remember could say a lot about the soldiers they led.

“Does the name Shinu mean anything to you?”

She shook her head. It wasn’t the man who’d gotten Zuko banished, at least. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was another matter entirely.

Sokka let out a great, long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we need to give our original plan another shot. Somehow, breaking into the palace to find Bumi is sounding less and less crazy by the minute.”

Zuko exhaled, long and slow. Dinner had been nice. The roast duck was easily better than anything else he’d eaten in days. Iseul and Song were nice too. Or they seemed to be, anyway. It was a little hard to judge when Song spent more than half the meal watching him. But it all seemed nice. The conversation wasn’t too invasive, Uncle was more than happy to do most of the talking, and despite the staring, neither Iseul nor Song said anything to indicate that they doubted Uncle’s story.

But after what felt like hours of sitting around, pretending that he belonged, Zuko couldn’t stand the feeling of being watched any longer. He needed some air.

Under the soft glow of the moon, the garden looked larger than it had in the afternoon. Or maybe the fact that no one could see him out here was just a relief after the almost claustrophobic sensation of sitting through so much chatter—it was hard to tell the difference. In any case, Zuko didn’t realize just how tense he’d felt until at last he stepped outside and the tension began to recede.

With another sigh, he sank back against the wall and tilted his head back toward the sky. The breeze was cool enough that if he let his eyes unfocus and his mind wander off, he could probably convince himself that he was back at the North Pole, lying in the snow after another night of sparring. That if he just reached a little to the side, he could find Katara’s hand somewhere just out of sight.

He wished she was here. That still hadn’t changed. In fact, the longing seemed a bit deeper tonight than most nights. Tonight, the future lay shattered in front of him all over again, and as familiar as that uncertainty was, he wished that he had someone to talk to about it right now. Someone who would listen and know exactly what to say, even if she didn’t have any answers. Someone like Katara.

He worked the beads out from under his sleeve and rolled them over between his thumb and forefinger. As reluctant as he’d been to even consider Uncle’s plan to reunite with all the others in Omashu, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness that had moved into his chest now that the possibility was so thoroughly extinguished.

I promise that I’ll come looking for you as soon as I can.

Something wrenched at the hollow in his chest, and Zuko leaned forward, briefly burying his face into his knees. She’d meant to keep that promise. He was positive about that. Maybe she’d even meant to find him in Omashu—if Uncle wasn’t mistaken about his friend knowing her and Aang, it was entirely possible that she could have eventually found her way back there all on her own. But that couldn’t happen anymore. Without a plan, without a place to meet, he would probably never see her again.

He wondered how long it would take before Katara came to the same conclusion.

“Lee? Would you mind if I joined you?”

Zuko jumped and reflexively shoved the beads back under his sleeve. Agni, either he was entirely too lost in his own thoughts, or Song had a knack for stealth that he didn’t like at all.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Song perched beside him without waiting for an answer. “Mom always tells me that she’s going to sew bells into all my clothes if I keep scaring people like that.”

From the corner of his eye, Zuko shot a brief glare her way. “That’s one of the best ideas I’ve heard.”

His tone was probably harsher than he intended. Almost definitely, judging by the way that Song folded her hands in her lap and looked away. Damn it. Just because he wanted to be alone didn’t mean that he should be antagonizing the people who’d taken him and Uncle in for the night.

“Oh.” Unsurprisingly, she sounded hurt. But then, before Zuko could find anything to say to her, before he could even try, Song shook herself and resumed. “I actually just wanted to apologize. You seemed a little uncomfortable during dinner, and if that had anything to do with me, I’m very sorry. We don’t have guests very often, and I may have been a bit too eager.”

Shit. He wasn’t expecting an apology. He didn’t want an apology.

When Song started to stand, Zuko stopped her. “You—you don’t have to do that.”

She looked at him, head tilted a bit to the side, and settled back down. “Okay. I’ll stay if you like.”

“No, that’s not what I—” He exhaled sharply. Song hadn’t done anything wrong. If he couldn’t think before he spoke, he was just going to upset her more and get himself and Uncle kicked out. “I meant that you don’t have to apologize to me. Or pretend to be friendly, for that matter. I know what I look like. I’m used to it by now.”

“Oh, no. Did you think—” She pressed a hand to her mouth briefly. “Lee, I’m sorry if you thought I was staring at your scar. I really didn’t mean to.”

He raised his remaining eyebrow. “I don’t care. I just—I don’t like talking about it.”

“I understand that.”

A scoff. Yeah, right.

“No, I do understand,” she insisted, her tone a bit more forceful. Without warning, she drew one knee up to her chest and began rolling up her hem. 

“Wait. What are you—”

“Mine is easier to hide,” Song said as the fabric pulled back enough to reveal a red web of scars twisting around her leg. “But it’s still there. I understand how these things happen.”

His mouth went dry, and he forced himself to look away. He was not going to start staring just because he was unaccustomed to seeing other people with burn scars. “Sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“You couldn’t have known.” She let her hem drop again and wrapped her arms around her knees. After a brief pause, though, she shot a sideways look at him, just the faintest teasing glimmer in her eyes. “But I don’t think you can deny that I know how it feels to be hurt by a Fire Nation soldier now.”

“Mine wasn’t technically a soldier,” Zuko said reflexively. Then, when he felt Song’s gaze land on the side of his face again, he cleared his throat. “But it’s close enough. Sorry. I’m not really thinking clearly right now.”

“I can’t blame you for that. It must have been upsetting to find out that you couldn’t settle down in Omashu anymore.”

He shrugged, doing his best to ignore both the beads hanging from his wrist and the hollowness in his chest. “Uncle was the one who really had his hopes up. It was his friend we were supposed to meet. I—I didn’t know anyone there.” Just people who could have come to meet him in a few weeks’ time if Omashu had proven safe. People who he would probably never see again.

Song was quiet for a few moments. Then, “Well, I hope that your uncle’s friend is able to make it out safely. It may be just a rumor, but I’ve heard that very few people were hurt in the invasion.” She paused again, and something in her voice shifted. It went warm and friendly—almost too friendly. “And in the meantime, I just hope you know that you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

Chapter Text

Finding their way into the palace was, in fact, just as easy as Aang said it would be.

The tunnels running through the rest of the city helped. With the locals’ help, they were able to get within a block of the palace completely unseen, darted across to the outer wall when the Fire Nation guards stepped away, and clambered up into another, much narrower tunnel behind what Katara would have sworn was just an oversized decorative stone. The tunnel, Aang informed them in a whisper, was a long-forgotten and disused trash chute that he and Bumi had rediscovered as children. Fortunately, that meant that while the air was stale, there wasn’t too much foul-smelling sludge to deal with. Unfortunately, it also meant that the tunnel was incredibly steep and crisscrossed with cobwebs along its entire length.

She was doing this for Zuko, Katara reminded herself. Or—well, they were breaking into the palace for Bumi, but Bumi knew the general, and it stood to reason that if anyone would know if Zuko and his uncle had arrived, it would be a friend of the general. The promise of some useful information was enough to keep her crawling forward, finding handholds in the sides of the old stone chute, and ignoring the unpleasantness of cobwebs sticking to her hands and face until at last they emerged into a cold, dark room where she could brush herself off.

“I think we’re in one of the cellars,” Aang whispered after pacing once around the outer walls. “But I don’t think Bumi and I ever played in here when we were little.”

“Any chance that has something do with the fact that it’s a wine cellar?” Sokka hissed back, rapping his knuckles against a barrel.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s probably it.” If he heard the sarcastic edge to Sokka’s voice, he pretended not to. “So I think that means that the kitchen is just down the hall, and the dungeons are on the other side. That’s probably where they’re keeping Bumi. Right?”

Katara nodded. In a stone palace, there probably weren’t many places suited to imprisoning earthbenders, but it wasn’t like Bumi was the first earthbender who would have ever been held here. She had to assume that someone would have taken precautions at some point.

“Oh, good. Kitchen means cooks, and dungeon means guards. I’m sure this will go great.” With a long sigh, Sokka clapped Aang on the shoulder with one hand and pulled out his club with the other. “Fine. Lead the way buddy, but you’d better be ready to bend like all our lives depend on it.”

The cellar door let out a prolonged creak as it swung open into an empty corridor, and Katara uncorked her waterskin. Whether Aang was ready or not, Katara was willing to fight. One waterskin wouldn’t go far, especially when the air felt so dry, but that wouldn’t stop her.

As if to prove the point to herself, she whirled into motion almost as soon as the kitchen door opened, catching one red-clad servant around the waist with a waterwhip and threw her bodily into the next closest man. Only then, when Katara was already winding up to snag a third cook, did either of the boys catch up and aim toward the few remaining servants.

Thankfully, no one in the kitchen seemed especially well-trained, and none of them had time to raise an alarm before Katara turned back from her pile of three unconscious servants to find Aang and Sokka relaxing back out of their fighting stances, the other three servants likewise lying motionless on the stone floor.

“Holy shit, Katara,” Sokka hissed, slinging his club back over his shoulder. “Maybe you could consider warning us the next time you’re gonna run into a fight like that.”

One eyebrow raised, she glanced up at him as she gathered up the water she’d spilled in the midst of the fight. “I’m sorry, what did you expect me to do? Walk in and introduce myself?”

“I could be wrong, but I think there’s some middle ground between making friends with the firebenders and trying to take on six people by yourself.”

“Well, then we should probably come up with some kind of hand signals or something, because if we wait around long enough to come up with a plan, people are going to hear us and call for reinforcements.” She funneled her water back into her waterskin, then let out a grunt of frustration when that left the pouch only halfway full. The rest, unfortunately, seemed to be sinking deep into the porous stone floor faster than she could pull it back.

“How’s this?” Sokka held a hand up in front of her face. “This means stop.”

Scowling, she pushed his hand away before making one last effort at retrieving the water she’d spilled. A small flurry of droplets obeyed—enough to form an orb roughly the size of her fist—but the rest was already beyond her reach.

She shook her waterskin in his general direction. “Unless there’s more water somewhere around here, I might not have a choice about that. I swear, this floor is like a sponge.”

Aang frowned. “I don’t remember there being a sink in here. There’s a great big cistern under the main hall, and I think the water pump is outside the kitchen.”

That explained why she couldn’t sense any water pipes running through the walls or the floor, at least. “Great. I guess that means I won’t be getting any more water, then.” She might be able to fight off one or two more firebenders with what she had left, but if the stone kept soaking up the droplets she spilled at the same rate, she would be left unarmed sooner rather than later.

Sokka pushed one of the unconscious servants over with his foot, then rubbed his chin in apparent thought. “Sure, sure, sure. Do what you’ve gotta do.”

“What?”

Aang looked equally confused. “Are you even listening, Sokka?”

“Should I be?” Crouching, Sokka untied the sash around one man’s waist and fumbled around, rolling the limp form from one side to the other until he finally managed to free the crimson overtunic. Without looking up, he tossed it vaguely in Katara’s direction and moved on to the next, slightly smaller figure. “Put that on and see if you can find anything to tie these people up with.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Disguises?”

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

A shrug, and she threw the tunic over her shoulders. “Not necessarily. I’m just not sure if the kitchen staff is supposed to be in the dungeons.”

“If you see any soldiers’ uniforms around here, by all means, point them out.” With a great deal of grunting and wiggling, Sokka succeeded in freeing another tunic and tossed it toward Aang before looking up again. “Until then, we’ve gotta work with what we have.”

Zuko wasn’t great at gardening.

That, at least, was to be expected. He remembered his mother occasionally pruning some of the bushes in the gardens back home, but as far as he knew, the servants had always done most of the work. And after leaving home, it wasn’t like Zuko had much opportunity to bother with plants. His ship probably could have accommodated a few plant pots, but at thirteen, he wouldn’t have had the patience for gardening. In a matter of weeks, Uncle probably would have commandeered the plant pots to grow his own tea.

But now, despite his lack of skill, despite his usual, persistent impatience, Zuko found that he didn’t really mind gardening. Or he minded it less than sitting inside, listening to Uncle chatting with Iseul instead of poring over their map like he was supposed to. Gardening—or at least the part that involved uprooting weeds from between the newly sprouted bean plants—was soothingly mindless work.

It wasn’t quite enough to make him forget that Song kept looking at him from the opposite end of the row, unfortunately, but at least the staring was a bit easier to ignore while his hands were occupied.

“You and your uncle seem very close,” Song said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “Has it always just been the two of you?”

He fought back the impulse to slip into sarcasm, to tell her that yes, Zuko had somehow sprung into being with no parents whatsoever. Instead, he shrugged. “Not always. Uncle traveled a lot when I was little. But about three years ago, he came back home, and—yeah, it’s mostly been the two of us since then.”

“I’m sorry. It must be difficult to lose the rest of your family.” She glanced back toward the house. “My father was taken a few years ago too.”

For all that Song was decent at stopping before her questions got too deep, too personal, she seemed to have a knack for landing on all the wrong assumptions. It probably wasn’t unfair, considering how little she knew about him, but it was still jarring to hear that anyone thought he was anything but a disgraced firebender.

“Sorry about your father,” he said, then grabbed hold of a small, pointy-leafed weed. “But for me—leaving with Uncle was probably the best thing that could have happened. My father—he’s never been a very good father.”

“What about your mother?”

Another shrug. “She went missing years ago. She’s probably dead now.”

“Oh.” There was a thread of mortification running through her voice, and when Zuko glanced up, her cheeks were tinged with pink.

“It’s been a long time,” he repeated. “I’m used to it by now.”

“I know that. I’m just—I’m sorry for prying.”

With a heavy exhalation, he shifted a bit farther down the row. The round, waxy leaves of the new bean spouts were small enough that even some of the scragglier weeds overshadowed them completely, and he had to focus to avoid uprooting the wrong plants. “It’s fine,” he said anyway, not looking up. “I’ve been lots of places and met lost of people nosier than you.”

That, she seemed to think, was a safer topic than family, and all of Song’s usual ease came back into her voice. “What sorts of places have you visited? I’ve never had much opportunity to travel myself.”

A small shrug. “Lots of places. More villages than I can count at this point, mostly along the coast. And about a month ago, there was a city—” He trailed off there, eyes locked onto the sliver of pale blue ivory poking out from beneath his sleeve.

“And what was the city like?”

Hastily, Zuko shoved the beads back out of sight and shook his head. “Just—bigger. I got to stay in one place for a few weeks, which was nice. But other than that, it was just—normal.”

For a few long seconds, Song went quiet, and Zuko could feel her eyes on the side of his face. Then, at long last, “I’m sure she’s beautiful.”

His head snapped upward, and he felt his forehead crease. “What?”

Song turned pink. “Your girlfriend.”

Zuko stared.

“Or—or boyfriend. I guess I don’t really know, but it’s obvious that whoever gave you that bracelet means a lot to you.”

Oh. So apparently Song’s assumptions could occasionally hit a little closer to home than he liked. Zuko’s face went hot, and he turned his eyes down. “No, she’s not—I mean, we weren’t—” He had to pause to clear his throat. “The beads are just from a friend. I don’t think—even if we felt that way about each other, it wouldn’t matter. I’ll probably never see her again.” There was a pang in the middle of his chest, and he took a long, slow breath to push past it. “She’s better off without me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Zuko scoffed. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

Song made a small, thoughtful noise. “No, I suppose not.”

“But?” Zuko prompted after a pause. The slight, upward lilt to her voice made it clear that she wasn’t finished there.

“But,” Song resumed, speaking slowly, carefully. “I imagine your friend does. Why would anyone who cares enough to leave behind a token of friendship ever believe that they were better off without you?”

Zuko’s heart skipped, and his face went even hotter. She wouldn’t. He knew Katara well enough to understand that. She would never say that she was better off without him. And if things were different, if Azula weren’t chasing him, maybe he would even agree. He wasn’t useless. He just couldn’t offer enough help to outweigh the danger that Azula presented.

“Either way,” he said, voice a bit gruff, “we’ve been apart long enough that I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for her.”

“Maybe so. But destiny has a funny way of bringing people together sometimes. If your friend is still out there somewhere, I don’t think it’s too late to have hope.”

All Zuko could offer by way of an answer was a grunt, and he wrapped his hand firmly around the base of a prickly weed. She could believe that if she wanted to. She didn’t know who Zuko really was, much less the odds that he was up against. And frankly, he had neither the energy nor the desire to tiptoe around the truth to find a way to explain it to her.

Song went quiet for a minute or two, and all he could hear for a while was the soft rustle of leaves as she went on clipping sprigs of herbs and bundling them together into her basket. But then, of course, just when Zuko had managed to relax back into his work, she spoke again.

“Have you ever been to Omashu yourself?”

He did his best not to jump at the suddenness of the question, but he probably failed. Frowning, he shot her a sharp look. “No. I said my uncle had friends there, not me.”

“I know. But I’m sure you don’t find friends everywhere you travel.” If that was meant to be a comment on his social skills, she moved on too quickly for him to tell. “Then I suppose you’ve never heard the story of Oma and Shu either.”

“Guess I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s how the city got its name,” Song continued, keeping her eyes fixed on her own work this time. “A woman named Oma lived in the village to the west, and a man named Shu lived in the village to the east. And even though they came from different places and lived very different lives, they somehow found one another and fell in love.”

That sounded a bit like every play he’d ever gone to see with his mother back in the Fire Nation. “Let me guess—then they got married and named the place where they settled down after themselves.”

This time, there was clear annoyance in her eyes when she looked up. “No, they never got married. Their villages were at war, and after Shu died fighting, Oma’s grief was so great that she was able to earthbend the battlefield into a peak so steep that no one could go on fighting. She brokered peace between the villages in the name of her lost love, and in time, the two villages came together to build a new city around the peak where Oma brought an end to the war.”

Oh. Zuko looked back down and went back to work pulling weeds. He would probably be better off if he just stopped talking. His assumptions weren’t turning out much better than Song’s.

“When I was little, that was why I wanted to go to Omashu. A city founded on love—especially love strong enough to end a war—just sounded magical to me.”

The beads had slipped out from beneath his sleeve again, and Zuko found his eyes locked on them all over again.

“I suppose I’ll never get my chance to see it now,” Song added, softer. “But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe—maybe a love like that doesn’t mind where two people find one another.”

For an instant, he could see Katara’s eyes again, brilliant blue and shining with tears. He could feel her hand cupping his cheek, impossibly soft and warm despite the snow and ice of the North Pole. He could hear his own voice breaking as he begged to stay.

If you were in my place, what would you do?

That’s different.

How?

Because you have people who love you.

He could hear her start to answer, see the flash of confusion in her eyes as she cut herself off midsentence, as though the words had gotten stuck somewhere in her throat. He’d never allowed himself to wonder what those words might have been—he still didn’t dare to think about it too much, but a spark of instinct still burned somewhere inside him. He’d never heard how she meant to reply, but he knew that she had meant to say something. He could almost feel the shape of the words she’d never said.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said involuntarily, barely above a whisper. Maybe he’d already found feelings that deep.

“Either of you feel up to giving us some light?” Sokka hissed. “I can barely see anything.”

The dungeons, unsurprisingly, were dark and musty. Much closer to the sort of place that she’d expected Bumi to keep them when they were imprisoned during their first visit to Omashu than to the actual cell they’d slept in that night. She couldn’t decide whether or not she was surprised to find such a normal set of dungeons beneath Bumi’s palace.

“I don’t know how,” Aang hissed back. “I haven’t learned any firebending yet.”

“Okay. So what about you, Katara?”

Frowning, she pushed her waterskin farther back on her hip before turning her palm upward. It had been weeks since she’d so much as tried to meditate the way Zuko had showed her. She hadn’t forgotten how this was supposed to work, but she wasn’t exactly optimistic about it either.

After a few slow breaths, she could at least feel the pinprick of warmth and light in her core rising and falling along with her breath the way she remembered. Unfortunately, when she tried to let the energy out as a flame, all she managed to produce was a few crackling sparks before darkness closed back in.

“I don’t think I could hold a flame if I tried,” she said before reaching for her waterskin again. She half expected Aang to ask where she’d learned even that much firebending, or when she’d had the time to practice with Zuko, but instead he pulled away and poked his head through the open door of a nearby cell.

“Bumi’s definitely here,” he said, voice echoing just the slightest bit inside the cell. He pulled back into the hall again, nearly bumping into Katara in his haste. “Everything’s lined with metal in there. It’s definitely meant to hold earthbenders.”

“Oh, good. So happy to hear that we’re definitely going to have to bumble around in the dark to find him, then.” Sokka took a small step forward as though to confirm what Aang had seen in the cell.

Katara rolled her eyes. “Just give it a minute, Sokka. Your eyes will adjust.”

“Yeah, yeah, but a little firebending could’ve gone a long way toward helping us blend in, you know? There’s bound to be guards down here if they’ve got Bumi locked up.” With a sigh, he spun back around to face them both. “Fine. Let’s make this quick. Where do we start?”

There didn’t seem to be any indication of where Bumi might be, no larger or smaller cells, no broader or narrower corridors, so in the end, the best they could do was start at one end of the dungeons and weave up and down the halls toward the other. The dark helped them, though—the glow of a distant flame was easy to see through the darkness, which meant that it was easy to change directions and duck into open cells to hide from passing guards. And since Bumi was almost certainly the most important prisoner here, it didn’t take long to figure out that picking their way toward the guards would probably bring them close to Bumi.

Sure enough, after a good deal of ducking and dodging from one cell to the next, they finally reached the end of a long corridor, and this time, the firelight was accompanied by voices. One by one, they poked their heads out around the corner just long enough to confirm that there was only one guard in the hall, that his back was turned, and that he was apparently too occupied with his conversation to have noticed any approaching footsteps.

Sokka raised his club ever so slightly for the others to see and mouthed the words, I’ve got this one before sprinting out around the corner. There was a thump, then a grunt, then a few beats of silence before Katara dared to poke her head back out again.

“Now that wasn’t very polite, young man,” a creaky old voice admonished from one of the nearby cells. “If you insist on knocking everyone unconscious, who am I supposed to discuss the silk-spider trade with?”

Uncle, thankfully, didn’t take long to make up his mind. With Omashu out of the question and no friends influential enough to shelter them for more than a day or two, their best option was to keep moving until they found someplace big enough to disappear, to hide from all the rest of the world. And in the Earth Kingdom, there was really only one city that could come close to that.

“But Ba Sing Se is such a long way from here,” Song said, not for the first time. “Traveling that far would be difficult with an ostrich horse and cart. I can’t even imagine making the journey on foot.”

As hard as he tried, Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised that Song had volunteered to come with him on one last stop for supplies before leaving Baiyu. The fact that Uncle had leapt at the opportunity to stay behind so that Zuko would be alone with Song was, if possible, even less surprising.

With a sigh, he shifted the bundle of provisions from one arm to the other. It was almost over. Song was nice, but it was impossible to relax around her. In a few hours, he would be back on the road with Uncle, and while travel certainly wasn’t relaxing either, it was at least a familiar sort of stress. Not like this.

“Do you have any better ideas?” he asked a little flatly. “Uncle and I aren’t exactly equipped to fly there.”

“You could stay here.” Song answered quickly enough to make it obvious that she’d been planning her response for some time. “I know that Baiyu isn’t the most exciting place to live, but it’s safe. The Fire Nation doesn’t usually bother with us.”

Zuko wasn’t surprised by the suggestion, not really. Still, the certainty in her voice took him off guard, and he stopped in his tracks. “You—you don’t want that. You really don’t want that.”

“Why not?” Song stopped too, turning back to meet his eyes. From anyone else, he might have expected anger or petulance, but somehow, she managed to just sound curious. Like he was a puzzle to be figured out rather than a hasty, overly blunt jerk.

“Because—” He exhaled, shifting from one leg to the other. He couldn’t tell the truth. Of course he couldn’t. But with her staring at him like that, it was hard to think of a lie that didn’t flood his chest with guilt. “Because trouble has a way of finding me anywhere I go,” he said lamely. “I don’t want you and your mother to have to deal with that.”

“And what if I say that I wouldn’t mind a bit of trouble?”

With a slight scoff, he shook his head and started walking again. “Then I’d say that your mother probably wouldn’t agree. And that you don’t know me well enough to actually believe that.”

“Maybe not, but I can guess.” Song trotted for a few steps until her pace matched his again. “You said that you came from somewhere along the coast to the north, didn’t you?”

A nod.

“And that your uncle traveled a lot when you were a child and that your father wasn’t a good man?”

Zuko shot a glance at her from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. So?”

“So—” She paused, apparently taking her time to choose the right words. “I think there’s a decent chance that you came from one of the Fire Nation colonies along the northern coast. Maybe your uncle was a soldier, and while he was away fighting, his sister met someone—maybe another soldier, maybe not an Earth Kingdom soldier—and then one day, you came along.” Her gaze pierced the side of his face. “So? Am I anywhere near the truth?”

It was hard to tell whether he was more surprised by the bits where she’d gotten close to the truth or by the bits where she’d missed the mark entirely. Either way, his breath caught in his throat and his pace slackened again. “It’s—no. No, not really.”

With a soft laugh, she stepped in front of him and grabbed hold of his free hand, forcing him to a stop. “See? I may not know the truth, Lee, but I don’t mind that. Whatever it is, it couldn’t be any worse than what I can dream up.”

It could. It is.

As he fumbled for words, his stomach sank lower and lower. It was worse than she thought. So much worse, and she already thought that he was at least half Fire Nation. What was he supposed to do now? Deny it? He’d probably already hesitated too long for that, even if he thought he could lie well enough to deceive her. Worse, if Song suspected that he was Fire Nation, the rest of the village probably thought as much too. And that meant that the second anyone talked, word of a scarred firebender would begin to spread, and then—

“I understand that you probably don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you,” Song continued, her eyes and voice both soft. “Considering your—friend, whoever she is. But I have to believe that it’s possible to care about people and find happiness in the middle of a war.”

He felt his brow furrow. Was that why she’d told him the story about Omashu? Was she hoping that he would turn out to be the Shu to her Oma or something?

Before he could ask, though, there was a screeching sound from somewhere behind him, distant enough that it might have come from the market square. Then, as he turned back toward the noise, a quiet, distinctive roar followed along with a flash of brilliant blue-white light.

His grip on the bundle of provisions slackened so much that he nearly dropped the whole thing. Shit. He could probably run. If he turned tail now and fetched Uncle from the house right now, there might be a chance that they could flee in time to disappear into the forest. Maybe, if they moved extremely quickly, they could make it out of Baiyu soon enough to keep entirely out of Azula’s reach. They might be able to scrape out enough of a head start to be miles and miles away before Azula knew for certain that they’d ever been here.

But even as the glow of the flames died out, the noise continued. The single shriek—he had to assume it came from some kind of animal—gave way to a flood of shouting which, in turn gave way to what sounded very much like Azula’s voice. His heart sank even further. The blue flames had been confirmation enough, but the sound of her voice turned all his veins cold. Shit. He couldn’t run. Not even if he wanted to.

“Lee?” Song’s hand closed gently around his arm. “I think we need to go. We’re not too far from home. If we can just get there—”

He shook his head, numb from head to toe. No. He didn’t like it, but he knew exactly what he had to do. Azula was his problem, not anyone else’s. “You need to go. Get back to your house and stay out of sight until the firebenders are gone.”

“But we don’t even know who that is,” Song protested.

“I do.” He wasn’t positive where the steadiness in his voice was coming from, but he pressed on before the certainty could abate. “I know exactly who she is, and I think I can guess what she’ll do to this place if someone doesn’t get her out of here quickly. Here.” It took a bit of fumbling to shake her hand off and hold the bundle of supplies her way. “Would you do me a favor and take these back to my uncle?”

“I—of course I could, but don’t you think it’s better if you—”

A decisive shake of his head. “No. That girl out there—that firebender is the reason I can’t see my other friends again. She’s the reason I can’t stay here. She’s chasing me, and I’m the one who has to get her out of here.”

Song stared up at him, wide-eyed and wordless.

Shit. Something wrenched inside his chest, and he swallowed hard, looking away to regain his composure. Shit. If his cover was blown, what did that mean for Uncle? “Please, just—just tell my uncle that Azula is here, but I’m taking care of it. He doesn’t need to be involved in this.”

He made it a few steps before Song broke free of her shock. There was a soft fwump as she dropped the bundle of provisions, and her hand closed around his elbow again, pulling him to a stop.

“Lee—” Her grip slackened almost the instant that he looked back, like she had been shocked by the force of his gaze. “Are you one of them? A—a firebender?”

He couldn’t do much more than grimace. “I tried to tell you that you didn’t know me well enough to trust me.” Taking a step back, he shot another look toward the square, toward the place where Azula had to be waiting for him. “I’ll try to keep her from hurting anyone. I can’t promise much more than that.”

Before he could back away, Song tightened her grip on his arm one more time and stretched upward to plant a small, hasty kiss on his right cheek. Then, as though frightened that he might turn into some kind of firebending monster, she took several quick steps back.

“Please—don’t make me regret trusting you,” she whispered.

Too baffled to speak, Zuko gave a single, almost expressionless nod. Then, before Song could try to stop him again, he turned on his heel and broke into a run.

Chapter Text

Considering the fact that Bumi was locked up inside his own palace—in a coffin-sized steel cage, bound up in steel chains, and locked inside a steel-lined cell—he seemed remarkably chipper about his situation. In a way, the cheerfulness was almost more unnerving than all the Fire Nation soldiers swarming around the city.

“How did all of this happen?” Aang asked, sounding almost frantic. The firebender’s torch had nearly gone out when he fell unconscious, and it took all of Katara’s concentration to keep the flames flickering high enough to illuminate the space around the door. And in that pale glow, Aang somehow managed to look younger than usual.

“The steel cells?” Bumi said. “Oh, I think that was done long before our time, Aang. I’ve heard that my ancestors used wood to insulate against any unwanted earthbending, but the trouble with wood is that anyone with a stick and enough determination can start a fire. Not to mention the mold when we get an especially rainy year.”

“No, I mean how did the Fire Nation take over Omashu? You’re the best earthbender in the world. I’m sure you could have stopped them.”

Bumi chuckled. “Best in the world. Aang, you flatter me, but I haven’t had that kind of ego since I was ninety. Most experienced, sure. But once you run out of fingers and toes to count your own great-grandchildren and their children, it’s hard to consider yourself the best at anything at all.” Though his face could barely poke out of the little grated window, he managed to cock his head slightly to the side as though in thought. “I think they’ve been here about a month. Very friendly people, most of them.”

“And how?”

“And how,” Bumi agreed, then after a few moments of silence, he chuckled again. “Oh! That was a question, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Bumi. I want to know how they took over the city.”

Again, Bumi paused, apparently deep in thought. “Well, I let them, of course. But who’s really in charge when one person hands over power to another?”

Sokka glanced up, eyebrow raised, from where he’d crouched to try his hand at picking the lock. A quick search of the firebender’s uniform hadn’t turned up any keys, and while Katara could probably cut through the lock with what water she had left, this seemed like a quieter option.

“I think they are,” Sokka said before leaning in to squint at the lock. With one hand, he grabbed Katara’s wrist to bring the light closer. “I thought all the layers of steel keeping you in here made that pretty clear.”

“Ah, but if they believed I were truly powerless, they hardly would have bothered with such precautions. Say what you will, young friend, but they fear me far more than I fear them.”

One of Katara’s eyebrows shot upward. Did Bumi fear anyone? In her admittedly limited experience, he seemed positively gleeful far more often than he seemed even the slightest bit worried.

“Hey,” Sokka said crossly. “I still need that light, you know.”

Frowning, she tried to force the flames to burn a little higher. Though firebending was proving a bit easier with fuel, the torch was nearly burned down to nothing already. “I’m trying. Maybe you could try picking the lock faster.”

With a grunt, he waved her off and went back to poking around inside the keyhole.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” It sounded a bit like Aang was trying to reassure himself. “We’ll get you out of here, Bumi. Then we’re going to find some way to get the city back.”

Sokka’s pin slipped, and he swore aloud. “Seriously, dude? I thought we talked about this. At least let me get the door open before you start talking about fighting off a whole army.”

“I have to agree with your friend, Aang,” Bumi said, voice significantly more solemn than usual. “You see, the trouble with fighting back is that no victory can come without cost. And some fights can’t be won at all. We must choose our battles carefully, or someday we won’t have any fight left to give.”

“So? This is a fight you can win. I know you.”

Bumi shook his head. “Nothing is quite that simple, old friend. I can’t fight whole armies on my own like I could in the old days. It would have taken every bender in the city to slow the soldiers down. And if we’d tried—well. At least this way, we can live on to fight another day.”

“Yeah, but—” Aang seemed to be struggling for words. “But the Fire Nation has taken over the city. For all we know, they might try to tear it all down.”

“Feh. What is a city? A bunch of artfully stacked rocks? A city can be rebuilt. And someday, I think, it will be.”

Sokka wedged his pin back into the lock and wiggled it around until something clicked. “Cool. So it sounds to me like our original plan—or whichever plan number we were on before fighting a whole army came up—is gonna be perfect, then. See, Aang? I told you we just had to stick with the plan.”

Bumi frowned. “And what exactly is this plan?”

“Easy. We break you out of here—” Sokka paused just long enough to allow them all to hear a second, deeper click before the door swung loose. “Then we either use the mail chutes or Aang’s glider to get out past the city walls and fly like crazy until we’re far enough ahead for you to start teaching these two how to earthbend.” With a flourish, he stuck the pin into his wolftail like a lopsided antenna and stepped back far enough to allow the door to open the rest of the way.

There was a flash of something like displeasure on Bumi’s face, and without so much as a word of warning, he jerked his head to the side. The stone in the walls shifted in response, closing in tighter around the steel lining and pinning the door shut.

With a yelp, Sokka leapt backward. “Holy shit! You can bend with your face?”

Katara felt her eyes widen and her pulse quicken, though she couldn’t tell whether it had more to do with Bumi’s bending or Sokka’s reaction to it. It was certainly a little strange that Bumi could bend with so little space to move around, but the fact that he was still here when he could clearly cause more than enough damage to free himself was much, much stranger.

Aang stepped a little closer to the barred door. “Um—Bumi? I think you accidentally bent the wall the wrong way.”

Bumi shook his head. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Aang. I’ll be staying right here until the time is right.”

“What are you talking about? The time is right now. We’re here, and we can get you out of here. And Katara and I really need an earthbending teacher, so—”

“No, Aang.” Again, Bumi’s voice was calmer, steadier than usual. “I am not the teacher you need. Not anymore.” He nodded as if to gesture to the entirety of the palace, of the city. “After all these years, I’m a silly old man well past my prime. I think you know that too. And traveling with me would be a nightmare. Do you have any idea how long I’ll be groaning about my back once I get out of this box?”

“Yeah, well—then we should get you out of there as soon as possible. We can deal with a little groaning.” There was a slight, petulant edge to Aang’s voice, and Katara thought she recognized that tone as a sign that he was getting close to tears. “The firebenders are probably gonna do something bad to you if you stay here.”

Bumi scoffed. “They’ve had all the chances they could want. If I was meant to be gone, they’d have made their move sooner.”

“Yeah, but—”

Growing solemn again, he added, “I’ve lived my life, Aang. More than most people ever will. And don’t think that I’m deceiving myself. I’ve seen armies like this before.” Bumi tilted his head as though gesturing to the world beyond the wall outside his cell. “They came to conquer. If we had put up a fight, they would’ve fought to the last man, woman, and child. But because we stood down, no one had to die, and no one had to leave if they didn’t want to. If my being locked up in this old cage is what keeps things that way, it’s a price I’ll happily pay.”

By the faint, flickering light of the torch, Katara thought that she could see Aang’s eyes welling up with tears. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and as if on cue, he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

“If you won’t come with us, then who’s gonna teach us earthbending?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Bumi answered cheerfully. “But isn’t that the most exciting part? No more grouchy old-timers to slow you down. Unless you pick another old fart to teach you earth or fire, but I wouldn’t suggest that. A handful of decades and we all get a bit too set in our ways.” Then, when Aang continued sniffling, he added, “Someday, my friend, you will face your destiny, and the Fire Lord will fall. When that happens—assuming I’m still here—I’ll see to it that my city falls back into the right hands.”

Aang refused to answer.

After a few seconds of silence passed, and it became clear that there were no more arguments to be made, Katara finally spoke up. “King Bumi—there was something else that we wanted to ask you too.”

Sokka sighed audibly, but Bumi nodded. “Go on, then.”

“A friend of ours was supposed to meet us here in Omashu,” she said, doing her best to ignore Sokka’s expression. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. He wouldn’t have been with the soldiers or anything, he just—needed someplace safe to go, I guess. Have you heard from him at all?”

Bumi’s wrinkled face screwed up in thought. “I can’t say that the name rings any bells.”

“General Iroh, then?” Sokka interjected. “That’s his uncle. It sort of sounded like the two of you knew each other.”

“Oh! The old tea dragon himself.” Bumi chuckled again. “I seem to recall hearing something a day or two before the firebenders took the city. But from what I remember, they weren’t meant to be here for another few weeks. I don’t imagine they’ll make it all the way to the city now, what with the Fire Nation banners everywhere.”

Katara felt herself deflate a little. As badly as she wanted to believe that Zuko was here, that she would be able to find him before nightfall, she wasn’t entirely surprised to hear otherwise. She’d gotten her hopes up, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t see the logic to all of Sokka’s shouting about how long it would take to travel here on foot. She just didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want this search to drag on any longer than it had already.

Maybe it was better this way, she tried to tell herself. Maybe Zuko was safer where he was right now.

“Well, there’s another wild goose chase for us,” Sokka said with a sigh. “Sooner or later Zuko’s stupid tracking skills have to kick back in, right? I’m sick of us chasing him after all that time when he wouldn’t stop chasing us.”

Bumi looked like he was about to say something more, but before he could, there was a distant clang that sounded a bit too much like a steel door slamming shut.

“Oh, shit,” Sokka said under his breath, pulling his club back out. “Well, it’s been nice catching up, Bumi, but I think we’ve gotta get going.” With that, he grabbed Aang by the elbow and started off in the opposite direction.

“No, not that way,” Bumi hissed after them. “There’s a guard post at the end of the hall. They’ll catch you for sure if you go that way.”

Katara stopped in her tracks at almost the same instant as the boys whipped back around, but that wasn’t quite enough to keep them all from colliding in the middle of the hall. Then, by the time that they’d managed to disentangle themselves, two pairs of footsteps and a corresponding set of voices were rapidly approaching from one end of the hall.

Oh no. In her panic, Katara allowed the torchlight to wink out, leaving the three of them cornered and practically blinded by the dark.

“Are you sure this is a shortcut, Mai?”

“Did I say it was a shortcut? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just sick and tired of that gaudy main hall. All the gold and green—”

“I like it. It looks like springtime up there.”

“Ugh, you would. It gives me a headache.” Mai sighed one of her signature sighs and tucked her hands back up her sleeves. “This place is so oppressively dull that I’m almost offended Azula left us behind. I don’t care how useless her lead was. Anyplace has to be better than here.”

Briefly, she considered pointing out the fact that Mai seemed more interested in avoiding her family than anything else. But that probably wasn’t a good idea. She was really trying to use her words more carefully right now. “Well, most places are better than the dungeon to begin with. Yuck. It sort of smells down here.”

Mai stopped walking and looked her up and down in that uncomfortable way where she didn’t move her head at all, just her eyes. “Ty Lee. You can’t seriously be suggesting that you like this dump of a city.”

Hmm. Even more careful than that, it seemed. Ty Lee didn’t remember it being this hard to keep the others from putting words in her mouth back when they were all in school together. She shrugged. “No. I’m just saying that the dungeons are always the worst part of any city. They’re always so dark and gloomy.”

It wasn’t like she was scared of dungeons—no, Azula had dragged the two of them into the Fire Nation dungeons too many times as children for the dark to hold any real terrors anymore. And Azula wasn’t even here right now, which automatically made the dungeons much less scary. But it did smell. And the only real reason Ty Lee hadn’t ditched Mai to take the shorter path through the main hall was because she didn’t know her way around here yet.

“Better than the fake luxury everywhere else. At least the shitty dungeon knows it’s a shitty dungeon.”

For a second, Ty Lee considered asking what sorts of places Mai did like. To her recollection, Mai considered home, school, and the Fire Nation palace boring. Dungeons were gross, and outside was too full of bugs, and now, apparently, Earth Kingdom palaces were fake. Wasn’t it really unpleasant to be so pessimistic about every place they’d ever visited? But fortunately, Ty Lee’s newfound caution told her not to say any of that. Asking silly questions was a good way to get called an airheaded poodle monkey, and Ty Lee didn’t want that.

“Are you sure we have to leave right away tomorrow morning?” she asked instead. “I traveled a lot with the circus, and I don’t think we’ll need two whole days to get to the meeting place. Mongoose lizards move a lot faster than circus carts.”

She felt Mai’s steel-sharp gaze on the side of her face. “What? Scared Azula is going to pull your hair like when we were little?”

No. Or—okay, maybe a little. Azula pulled really hard sometimes, and Ty Lee had been trying to take extra-good care of her hair ever since she started performing for people, and Azula’s sharp fingernails could probably ruin that after a few good tugs. But more than getting her hair pulled, Ty Lee was afraid of Azula setting her safety net on fire again. Not that there were safety nets out there on the road. Still, Azula could probably find an equivalent. She was good at stuff like that.

“No,” Ty Lee answered, probably a little too slowly. “I just don’t think all my clothes will be back from the laundry before then.”

Mai scoffed. “Liar.”

Setting her jaw, Ty Lee shot a glance out of the corner of her eye. “What about you? I don’t think you’re actually excited to help hunt Zuko down. Not with an aura like that.”

There was just the faintest flicker in Mai’s expression, and when she spoke, her voice was a fraction more forceful than usual. “I just want to get out of here. If we help Azula, then I’ll finally have a good excuse to get out of this stupid country. Mom and Dad can’t refuse to send me back if the princess insists on it.” A pause. “I don’t care about him one way or the other.”

That sounded like a lie. There was a bit too much heat in Mai’s voice for her to be sincere. Hmm. There was a shift in her aura, but it was a little hard to tell whether that had anything to do with a lingering crush or not. Both Mai and Azula seemed more adept at lying now than they had been years ago, which didn’t bode well for Ty Lee’s ability to pick out the truth from either of them.

Just as Ty Lee was busy musing over what else she could possibly say to get a clearer response, the two of them rounded a corner to find an unconscious guard lying spread-eagled in the middle of the hall. Ty Lee let out a small, involuntary gasp of alarm, and from the corner of her eye, saw the briefest flash of light as Mai drew a blade from her sleeve.

Realistically, hiding in the next empty cell down from Bumi’s was the best option that they had. With guards blocking one end of the corridor and someone else approaching from the other, they could either hide or fight, nothing in between.

But realistically, hiding wouldn’t shield them for long. There hadn’t been time to move the guard’s unconscious body, after all, and soldiers didn’t tend to faint of their own accord.

Breathing as slowly, as steadily as she could, Katara felt around the cell for any spare droplets of moisture that might be hidden in the cracks. No such luck, unfortunately. The dungeons seemed to be carved from the same porous stone as the kitchen, and the air was dry enough that very little moisture had settled anywhere on the steel lining the cell. With one hand, she weighed her waterskin. If she was lucky, she might be able to pull together one more solid water whip. After that, though, any water that met with the stone instead of her target would inevitably be sucked away from her reach.

In a space so cramped, with so little water at her disposal, she might be better off earthbending. She just wished that she had a bit more concrete training behind her.

Sokka elbowed her in the ribs, and she looked his way just in time to catch him gesturing wildly at the hallways and mouthing words so broadly that she almost swore that she could hear his voice.

As soon as they go past, he mouthed, we sneak out behind them and run.

She felt herself grimace, then gave a small nod. Beside her, Aang did the same. If they waited much longer than that, it seemed far too likely that whoever found them hiding here might simply lock the door behind them.

Outside in the hall, the footsteps slowed.

“That doesn’t look like a very nice place to sleep.”

The voice was high and almost cheerfully bright. Startled, Katara leaned just far enough to the side to watch through the bars as two girls advanced on the unconscious man, the first tall and pale, dressed in dark, flowing silks, and the second a bit shorter, dressed all in pink, with a long, jaunty braid swinging from the top of her head.

The taller girl turned her head just enough to fix her companion with a glare. “How many times did you fall off of that tightrope?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t possibly be this stupid.” Her voice was so flat that she sounded almost bored, but there was a distinct calculation to the taller girl’s movements. She stepped forward just far enough to nudge the man with her toe. “Nobody sleeps on the ground like this.”

“Well—I guess not. But I never fell off the tightrope. I don’t get—”

Sokka chose that moment, just as the second girl stepped past their hiding spot, to shove Katara, then Aang out into the corridor. “Now, guys! Run!”

Katara stumbled, nearly regained her footing, then felt something—probably Aang—collide with her back. Run where? Back toward the kitchens? She wasn’t positive she remembered the way back there, and even if she did, she wasn’t certain that she could outpace the two girls without also running headfirst into yet more guards. And if she could make it back to the kitchen, then—

Something small and metallic whizzed past her ear, and Katara whipped back around to see the taller girl brandishing a small blade at the three of them. “Make another move and the next one is going right through you.”

With a wild swing of his club, Sokka knocked the blade from her hand. Then, before he had a chance to retreat, the girl in pink landed a quick flurry of jabs on his shoulder, and the club clattered to the ground an instant after the blade.

“Uh—guys?” Sokka squeaked. “Your turn.”

Katara shot a bewildered look his way as he scuttled backward, dragging the club along the floor with his foot. She couldn’t see anything wrong with him. The jabs from Pink Girl’s fingertips certainly hadn’t drawn blood or hit him hard enough to dislocate anything, and yet his arm hung limp at his side.

While she was distracted, Aang blasted both girls back with a gust of air. Pink Girl tumbled away with a yelp, but her companion managed to catch herself on a nearby door before reaching into her sleeve for yet another blade.

Dragging her eyes away from Sokka’s weirdly floppy arm, Katara turned her concentration to a floor tile just in front of Knife Girl. With the amount of water she had left, she couldn’t count on blocking more than one or two blades—probably not enough when Knife Girl had a seemingly inexhaustible supply to draw from. Stone, on the other hand, was absolutely everywhere. The tile creaked and groaned in protest at the movement, then finally broke loose and flew upward just in time to knock another blade from the air.

A grin broke involuntarily across Katara’s face even as Knife Girl shot her a positively scathing glare and reached up her sleeve again. This was manageable. Sure, she didn’t know much earthbending yet, and her instincts weren’t much use in an unfamiliar element, but stone moved a bit like ice. And ice was familiar.

As Aang wound up for another blast of air, Katara did her best to hoist the tile again.

“All clear!” Bumi bellowed from inside his cell, and before she had a chance to guess what on earth he could be shouting about, the wall just across from Bumi’s door blasted outward, bathing the corridor in sudden, blinding daylight.

Katara staggered sideways, and her hand met briefly with the cold, untouched stone of the cell.

“Off you go now, kids.” There was an odd sort of cheerfulness in his voice again. “Don’t forget to visit when the Fire Lord falls.”

Another few blinks cleared most of the spots from her vision, and Katara squinted out into the daylight. Although the dungeons were woven throughout the base of the palace, the palace itself was high enough above the rest of the city that there was nothing but clear, open air between them and the city wall.

“Oh, for the love of—” Sokka snagged his club off the floor with his left hand, then elbowed Aang as he straightened. “Glider, buddy. Come on, we’ve gotta go.”

Though Aang looked back toward Bumi one more time, he did at least give his staff a twirl to open the wings. There was a flurry of movement as Katara rushed forward to grab onto one shoulder while Sokka took hold of the other. From the corner of her eye, she saw Knife Girl scrambling to her feet, then just as the three of them stepped out to the edge overlooking the city, there was a blur of pink as well. Katara kicked blindly in Pink Girl’s direction before she could grab hold and try to drag them back inside, but a sharp jab landed near her hip all the same.

The wind picked up beneath the wings of the glider, lifting all three of them into the air, but Katara couldn’t feel her feet leave the ground.  

There were too many soldiers.

That was practically inevitable. Unless Azula decided to travel across the Earth Kingdom with a single bodyguard, there was no chance Zuko would ever be able fight to his way out. And he still knew Azula well enough to understand that she would never travel without a much larger entourage.

She’d proven him right, at least for now. From his hiding place by the corner, he could count the shadows of about a dozen men, all sitting astride komodo rhinos, while Azula rode back and forth in front of them, practically pacing. She, however, hadn’t opted for a komodo rhino. Based on the smoothness of its stride and the long, low shape of its shadow, he guessed that it might be a mongoose lizard.

That wasn’t surprising either. For all that Azula liked the trappings of power, she wouldn’t be caught dead riding a creature as brutish and unrefined as a komodo rhino. Speed and agility were far more important to her, and if allowing herself that luxury meant that the rest of her entourage had to push their mounts to their limits for days just to keep up with her, she would do it.

“Now,” Azula called out over the square, “if you’ll just tell me what I need to know, none of you will have anything to worry about. My sources tell me that the person I’m looking for is right here in your dingy little town.” She paused to allow a few seconds of terrified silence to hang over the villagers’ heads. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. He’s a traitor and a dangerous firebending criminal. Make no mistake—he may have caused some headache for his own nation, but he certainly isn’t any friend to you.”

Zuko leaned back against the wall and let out a long, slow breath. He wasn’t going to fight her. He couldn’t fight her. And in a way, that was better. Right? At least if he couldn’t fight, he didn’t have to waste any time strategizing for that possibility.

“Where has he gone?” Azula demanded, but the cloying tone didn’t leave her voice. That forced, saccharine edge unnerved him more than he cared to admit. “You can’t miss him. Stupid, gravelly voice, huge, ugly scar—”

If she thought that Zuko was nearby and wanted to goad him into revealing himself, she was succeeding. Really, he should probably wait until he had a plan before revealing himself, but every word made him itch until at last, he had no choice but to burst out into the open.

“You’re lying,” he shouted. “You don’t know anything about me anymore, Azula.”

The way that her expression shifted seamlessly into a self-satisfied simper sent chills down his spine. “Oh, there you are, Zuzu.” Her mongoose lizard advanced by a step, and she scanned him up and down. “Funny. For someone who doesn’t know you anymore, I certainly didn’t have much trouble finding you.”

A slow, even breath. She was trying to provoke him. That much was obvious. He couldn’t afford to fall for it. “You know what my face looks like,” he said as evenly as he could. “That’s not a high bar.”

Azula laughed. “That’s adorable, Zuzu. So much confidence with so little reason.” With an almost imperceptible movement, she urged her mongoose lizard into motion and began circling him. “This could have been a pleasant reunion, you know. I had one of the finest cabins on my ship set aside for you. You could have had all the time you needed to put this foolishness behind you and prepare to meet Father again. It would have been the homecoming you’ve always dreamed of.” She paused there, glaring hard at him. “You can’t blame me now if things become decidedly less pleasant.”

They’d passed that point long ago, as far as he was concerned. Without turning his head, he did his best to get a look at the soldiers lined up along the far side of the market square. His initial count wasn’t far off—there were ten men sitting astride komodo rhinos, and behind them, a string of heavily armored mechanized carts, probably the very newest innovation that the Fire Nation had to offer its soldiers. It was only natural that Azula would be the first to get her hands on resources that Zuko could have only dreamed of. The only mercy he could see was that the new carts seemed far too heavy to travel any faster than a komodo rhino.

“Do you know what the best part is?” Azula continued. “Before you ran off in Chuanxi, I didn’t really know how far your loyalties had strayed. I had my suspicions, of course. You didn’t hide it well, but even I was astonished when I started to hear more of the details.” She turned her mongoose lizard slightly, stalking around him like a hungry predator. “You should have come along quietly while you still had the chance. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have needed to dig so deep to see what you were hiding.” Another pause. “I need you to understand, Brother. From this day on, I own you.”

Bait. It was only bait. If she had new blackmail information, surely she wouldn’t feel the need to speak so vaguely.

Zuko let out a slow breath. He couldn’t fight. There were far, far too many soldiers for that. He couldn’t trick Azula the same way he had in Chuanxi. She was smart enough to see that coming. As far as he could tell, that only left one option. He had to run. He needed to find some way to move faster than Azula or her soldiers or their fancy new carts.

He needed the mongoose lizard.

It took all his restraint to keep from leaping into motion the instant that the thought crossed his mind. If he could unseat Azula, he could take her mongoose lizard. If he could take the mongoose lizard, her only option would be to follow him on the much-slower komodo rhinos and carts. And if she had to follow him on a komodo rhino, it wouldn’t take long before he had enough of a head start to shake off her pursuit.

That, at least, sounded possible. Not easy, and almost certainly not wise, but possible.

“So,” Azula said, coming slowly up on his right side. Though she was spiraling in on him, she was still keeping a bit more than an arm’s length away. “Now that you’re feeling a bit more cooperative, tell me. Where has Uncle gone?”

Hopefully nowhere yet. Unless Song had sprinted all the way back to the house, Uncle probably wasn’t even aware that anything was wrong. “I don’t know,” he lied, keeping his head down. “We got separated a while ago.”

“Oh, did you? Come now, Zuzu. Even if that’s true, we both know that you have some idea where he is. So just tell me.”

“Why do you want to know?” he countered, still motionless, still keeping his voice low. “I always thought that you hated Uncle.”

“Hate is such an ugly word. I think that Uncle is a disgrace and a disappointment. I think that he’s been a horribly corrupting influence on you over the past three years. And I think that it’s about time that he comes home so he can finally stop embarrassing our family and our nation. Does that sound like hate to you?”

“Yes.”

Though she still hadn’t circled far enough for Zuko to catch a glimpse of her expression, he could sense her smirk. “Then perhaps I do, Zuzu. And you’re still going to tell me where to find him so that we can all go home together.”

He glanced ever so slightly upward, just enough to check that the soldiers weren’t advancing. He had to time this perfectly. If Azula kept circling, there would be a few seconds when he could move, when he could reach up and try to yank her from the saddle while the mongoose lizard shielded him from the soldiers’ flames. But waiting for the perfect moment was torture.

“If you hate him so much, why do you want to bring him home?” he asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Brother. All you need to know is that if you don’t cooperate, I’ll tell Father everything.”

“Everything?”

“Of course everything. Why? Are you worried, Zuzu? Because if you are, then you had better give me a very good reason to hold some things back.”

She was nearly in position now. Zuko paused just a few seconds longer until the mongoose lizard had almost completely blocked him from the soldiers’ view before he raised his head far enough to meet Azula’s eyes. “How do you think he’ll feel about you putting yourself to sleep in Chuanxi?”

Azula whipped her head around to face him so quickly that he wouldn’t have been too surprised to hear an accompanying snap. “You little—”

The blast of blue-white flame that followed missed its mark by mere inches, and Zuko only just managed to catch her by the wrist with one hand while reaching for the saddle with the other. Then, before she could do much more than sink her clawlike fingernails into his arm, he gave an enormous, heaving yank.

There was a shriek, and in the flurry of flailing limbs as Azula flipped over his shoulder, something that felt like a foot or a knee slammed into his back. Something popped, and a gust of air rushed from his lungs, but Zuko was already moving, already pulling himself up into the saddle and reaching for the reins.

In the confused rush of noise and heat and light that followed, Zuko was vaguely aware of flames rushing past him, occasionally catching a fold of his clothes or a lock of his hair, of komodo rhinos thundering down the road after him, of shouts for him to stop. Through it all, Zuko didn’t look back once.

The only thing that mattered was the road ahead.

The only thing he could think about was escaping.

Chapter Text

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” With his good hand, Sokka pinched his own sleeve and flopped his limp arm through the air. “It’s like I slept on my arm for a week. Isn’t moving around supposed to help with the tingling?”

From her place in Appa’s saddle, Katara raised an eyebrow. “You tell us, smart guy. I still can’t feel my leg at all.” At this rate, she would probably have to spend the whole night up here. As long as she couldn’t feel her leg, she couldn’t walk. And if she couldn’t walk, it probably wasn’t wise to venture away from Appa. At least up here, she wouldn’t have to worry about being left behind if they had to flee.

“Argh! Nope, moving makes it worse.” Sokka let his limp arm drop again, then winced when his hand smacked uselessly against the log he was sitting on. “So much for thinking that that pink girl was kind of cute. I like a girl who can fight, but this is just cruel.”

“You thought she was cute?” Katara demanded, twisting herself around to face him as directly as she could.

“I mean, I have eyes, don’t I?”

“I don’t have an opinion on that. I’m just worried about your priorities.”

Sokka made a face at her, then turned sideways so that he could flop onto his back across the length of the log. “Priorities are hard. We’ve burned through—what, four different plans at this point? I do all this work to figure out where to go and what to do, and every single time, it falls apart.”

“Looking for a new earthbending teacher is probably a good start,” Aang said, his voice unusually subdued.

With a groan, Sokka tossed his good arm over his face. “Dude, I don’t want to think about going anywhere or meeting anyone right now. Give me a day or two to wallow first.”

Aang leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“We’ll find someone, Aang,” she said softly, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. “Bumi’s right. There are other great earthbenders out there. It might take a little while, but we’ll find someone who’s right for both of us.”

“That doesn’t help Bumi at all.”

Sokka sighed. “What else did you want us to do, buddy? He made up his mind, and he didn’t want our help. Bumi is a grown man. Possibly the most grown man in the entire world. It’s not like we’re in any position to tell him what to do.”

When Aang’s expression didn’t shift in the least, Katara spoke up again. “I think he’s right, Aang. Bumi is a great earthbender, but he’s also really old. It would be one thing if we all could have stayed in Omashu together. Out here on the road—I just think that things would be a lot harder.”

A scowl flashed briefly across his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Bumi’s not too old to travel.”

“He said it himself, Aang. I know it’s not a nice thing to hear, but I think he made up his mind a while ago. If we want to help him, I think the best thing we can do is try and stay focused so we can end the war as soon as possible.”

Aang scoffed bitterly. “Obviously you don’t know what it’s like to leave a friend behind like this.” He shoved to his feet and turned away from both of them.

“Aang!”

She watched him march a few steps away, showing no sign of turning back, before she twisted forward again and crossed her arms with a huff. He had some nerve to talk like that to her. To Sokka too, for that matter. And as much as Zuko still occupied her mind sometimes, she was still willing to push her search aside when other priorities arose. Reluctantly, of course, and not without complaint, but she’d done it.

Was Aang really so oblivious that he hadn’t seen how hard it was for her?

After a few seconds of silence, there was a rustling sound from Sokka’s direction, but when he spoke again, it was clear that he hadn’t moved from the log. “You’re not going after him either?”

Not turning back, she shook her head. “Numb leg, remember?”

What she didn’t say was that even if she could walk, she wasn’t sure if she would attempt to follow him.

He hurt.

The realization took hours to sink in, and when it did, it came in dizzying, unpredictable waves. He hurt. As the wash of adrenaline finally subsided, that became undeniable. There was a long, shallow burn across his left forearm and hand, and a few surprisingly deep scratches from Azula’s nails on his right. But those were nothing in comparison with the spot just below his right shoulder blade where she’d kicked him as she toppled from the saddle. Something had to be broken. Anything less couldn’t possibly hurt so much when he tried to breathe.

But despite the pain, he had managed to escape. Half an hour of riding had taken him out of sight and earshot of his pursuers. An hour had taken him far enough to risk veering off the main road and onto a narrower, rocky path where he was less likely to be seen. And after a few more hours, when the sun began to slip into the western half of the sky, Zuko finally began to believe that he might have gone far enough to escape. That he might finally have slipped through Azula’s fingers again.

Still, he didn’t so much as slow down until sunset, and he didn’t stop until well after dark, probably near midnight, when the mongoose lizard began fighting his directions and pulling off toward a nearby stream. He still didn’t want to stop. He was tired, he could barely see the path ahead, and the longer he rode, the farther the pain in his back seemed to radiate, but stopping felt like giving up. Like giving Azula a chance to catch up.

But if he kept pressing onward, he would probably fall asleep in the saddle sooner or later. As sore as he was already, he couldn’t bring himself to risk falling off the mongoose lizard as well.

Reluctantly, he turned off into a cluster of trees by the side of the stream and dismounted as carefully as he could. The landing still jarred the painful spot in his back badly enough to make him gasp, and Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. Ow. He knew the feeling of broken ribs well enough, but a fractured rib in his back was new.

“Couldn’t let me go without a parting gift, huh?” he rasped at no one when he’d recovered his breath enough to speak. The mongoose lizard turned its head his way, and all he could manage in response was a grimace. “What are you looking at?”

A tongue flicked out at him, and the mongoose lizard turned impassively back toward the stream.

With a sigh, Zuko leaned back against a tree for a moment before he pushed himself upright again to rifle through all the pouches and compartments in the saddle. There probably wouldn’t be much of use to be found there—knowing Azula, the bulk of her possessions would have been packed neatly away inside the carts to keep off the dust from the roads—but the few coins he had left in his pocket wouldn’t take him far. He needed every scrap he could find.

It took more time and more pained wincing than he anticipated, but Zuko’s searching eventually produced a small pouch of coins—possibly enough for a week’s worth of food if he could find anyone willing to accept Fire Nation coins—a canteen, a half-eaten package of fire flakes, and a foul-smelling bag of what he could only assume were lizard treats, based on the way the creature reacted to the odor. There was no tent, no sleeping bag, and no blankets, but the eelskin cloak that he found tucked in the bottom of the saddlebag was large enough to provide at least some shelter. There was a spyglass and a map and bundle of wanted posters bearing his face—Zuko set those alight as soon as he found them—and a small, ornate case of writing supplies. There were a handful of golden, bejeweled trinkets, mostly hairpins, tucked into another pouch, and then—nothing. That was all.

Zuko let out a long breath, then winced when it sent a jolt of pain clear through his chest and out through his back. He had to steady himself against a tree for a moment, and the flame he’d been holding flickered.

A few smaller, shallower breaths brought his composure back, and he studied the assortment of supplies laid out on the ground with what little, unsteady light he could manage. There were no knives, no swords, no weapons at all. Which was probably fine—he didn’t feel up to a fight right now, and so long as he could keep ahead of Azula, he probably wouldn’t need to fight anyone. What he really needed to worry about was food and water, and between the money he had and the trinkets he could attempt to sell, it might be possible to keep himself fed for a few weeks. Enough time to allow his ribs to heal, if he was lucky.

This was manageable. Right? He was still in one piece. All he really needed to worry about was keeping it that way. All he needed to do was keep himself fed and hydrated, and rest enough to begin healing, and keep out of sight, and move faster than Azula, and—and then—

The flickering worsened as his pulse and breathing quickened until the flame winked out entirely, and his resolve faded into nothing. His knees buckled, and the landing sent a blinding jolt of pain through his back and chest. Shit. Who was he kidding? He didn’t have a plan. Not even close. If he somehow managed the impossible, if he could keep himself alive and safe long enough for his ribs to heal, there wasn’t anything better waiting for him on the other side. He had to keep moving to stay ahead of Azula, but keeping out of her reach would also keep him from Uncle. Without Uncle, there would be no friendly acquaintances to turn to along the way, no messages trickling in from far-flung places. No news to be had of Katara or any of his other friends.

Without Uncle, there was nothing.

Zuko was alone now. He’d lost everything all over again.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, knees drawn up to his chest and shaking as he struggled to silence his tears before the mongoose lizard finished drinking and returned to curl up in the grass behind him. He was even less certain how long it was before the exhaustion sank in so deep that he could barely think, much less remain upright. At long last, though, Zuko leaned back against the mongoose lizard and dropped off to sleep.

The night that followed was long and uncomfortable. Sokka, it turned out, hadn’t been kidding about the tingling sensation, and once the feeling began to come back into Katara’s leg, it didn’t stop for what felt like hours. This, she imagined, was probably a bit like how it felt to be on fire. Even holding healing water against her hip didn’t help much, and as tired as she was, she didn’t manage to get more than a few hours’ worth of restless sleep.

But by morning, her leg was better, and judging by the noises that reached her from camp after she’d gone down to the stream to clean herself up—grumbling from Sokka and chatter from Momo, mostly—she could only assume that Sokka was back to normal as well.  

When the cold water running through her hair finally came away clear, she let out a long, slow breath. She wasn’t happy. Now that she was awake and clean and mobile again, she certainly felt better about everything, but she couldn’t pretend that she was happy. In fact, as much as the pessimism normally grated on her, she had to admit that Sokka had had a point last night. Every plan that they came up with, every path that seemed to promise a way forward kept crumbling right before their eyes. It made her itch to even think it, but maybe Sokka’s grumpy pragmatism was right. Maybe they all needed a break from all the frantic planning and hoping.

Maybe, for just a day or two, she should try to put Zuko out of her mind.

Crouching by the edge of the stream, she turned her attention toward scrubbing the sludge and cobwebs from yesterday’s clothes. She wasn’t happy. She hated the idea of abandoning her search, even temporarily, even if there were no leads left for her to follow. But the fact of the matter was that she didn’t have the faintest idea of where to begin looking anymore. And as miserable as she felt knowing that Zuko was out there somewhere, probably somewhat aimless now that Omashu was unsafe, she could hardly imagine herself any less miserable chasing shadows from one end of the Earth Kingdom to the other.

Maybe it would be good for her to take a step back. Maybe if she did, waiting for news of Zuko’s whereabouts might be a little less painful.

Or maybe nothing would change. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to keep her mind off of him regardless.

She finished scrubbing the stains from her clothes and draped them over a nearby branch, then, frowning, took a step back. Really, if she meant to keep her resolution and put Zuko out of her mind to focus on more immediate concerns, she should probably return to camp as soon as possible. She should probably do whatever she could to force her mind onto other topics before worry and guilt could move in and take hold of her heart. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to face the boys yet, so instead, she turned back toward the stream. Waterbending might not clear her mind, but it might at least shake some of the anxious tension loose.

She’d only made it through four or five of her forms when a bright voice cut through her concentration.

“Good morning, Katara!”

With a yelp, she spun to find Aang standing just at the edge of the trees. “Aang? What are you doing, sneaking up on me?”

“I’m not sneaking up. I thought it was time for our waterbending lesson.”

She blinked. He thought so, did he? Slowly, deliberately, she turned back toward the stream and tried to remember where exactly she’d left off. “I didn’t think you wanted a waterbending lesson after last night.”

“Oh. Because of what you said about Bumi? I’m not mad about that anymore.”

The unpleasant tightness that had begun to build in her stomach last night returned. “What I said about Bumi?”

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, and I’ve decided that I forgive you.”

Katara allowed the water to fall back into the stream and turned back toward Aang, crossing her arms. He forgave her?

“Everything is fine now,” he added, smiling. “Or—I mean, everything’s fine with us. Bumi won’t be fine until after we win the war and get him out, but we’re working on that.”

“You think so?” she retorted, her voice positively icy. “You think everything is fine with us now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The tension that had been building inside her snapped, and she brushed past him to retrieve her half-dried clothes from the branch. “All Sokka and I said was that you should listen to your friend, and you completely blew up at us. Have you considered the possibility that I might not be in the mood to teach you after that?”

“Well—I had to leave my friend locked up in a dungeon yesterday. I can’t help being upset about that.”

Tunic draped over her arm, Katara whirled back to face him. “And I can’t help being upset that you used that as an excuse to tell Sokka and I that we didn’t know what it was like to leave friends behind! Being upset is fine, but that—” Her voice broke, and she had to look away.

“Oh.” Aang seemed taken aback, but when he resumed a moment later, a slight, petulant edge had crept into his voice. “Is this about Zuko again?”

She glared. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Well—” A few beats of silence passed before he straightened. “Yeah, kind of.”

“So how am I supposed to feel about watching my best friend leave, then? And how is leaving Bumi behind like he asked any worse than losing a friend who wanted nothing more than to stay?”

If Aang heard the questions, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he said, “Your best friend?”

Her breath caught, and in an instant, she became painfully aware of just how fast her heart was beating. Oh. She’d never said as much to anyone aside from Zuko before, had she?

Inhaling slowly, she steeled herself. It wasn’t any less true just because she’d never said the words aloud since he left. “Yes.”

“But—I thought we were best friends.”

He sounded hurt, and for the first time, Katara felt a slight twinge of guilt. “I guess we might have been, once,” she said, a little haltingly. “But—sometimes, things change. They have changed. I really thought you’d noticed.”

“I guess.” He crossed his arms, and a bit of the childish petulance crept back into his tone. “I noticed when you started spending all your time sparring with Zuko at the North Pole.”

“That wasn’t—” She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “I mean—that was when things changed with Zuko. That’s when we became friends. But everything else—Aang, things between you and me changed ages before that.”

His forehead creased. “What are you talking about?”

“The map? The one that was supposed to take us back to our dad? You hid that from us, Aang. And ever since then—”

“I apologized for that,” he retorted.

“Not to me, you didn’t! Sokka told me what happened, but when you apologized, I wasn’t there.” She crossed her arms again, but this time it wasn’t in anger. This time, it felt like she had no choice but to hold on tight so that those wounds that should have closed months ago wouldn’t break her into a thousand pieces. “I never heard another word about it from you after I found my way back. But you’d both moved on, so what was I supposed to do? Dig it all back up again?” She looked down and briefly bit her lip. “The last time we’d all talked about it, we had such a big fight that we split up, and I ended up—I didn’t see you or Sokka for weeks. And nobody even mentioned that you’d talked about it until after we left Bei Haian. How was I supposed to know what would happen if I brought it up?”

Aang looked a bit perplexed. “Well—you know that I apologized now. Isn’t that good enough?”

No. Not even close. Not when she’d had to hear his apology secondhand from Sokka, and especially not when Sokka hadn’t seemed convinced that Aang understood why they were upset with him.

But how was she supposed to explain that now without sounding horribly petty? He had apologized. He’d apparently tried to make things right by trying to rescue her from Zuko’s ship as well. And he’d handed over the second map to Dad’s location after only a little hesitation. So what was the problem? Why was it still so hard to convince herself to trust him?

“I guess it’s a start,” she said, voice small.

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t know what it was like to lose friends,” Aang added a moment later. “I guess I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”

With a small frown, Katara nodded. “I’m sorry we had to leave Bumi in Omashu. I know you really wanted him to be your teacher.”

At that, Aang broke into a grin. “So can we do our waterbending lesson now?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I think I could still use a break today. I think all of us could.” Then, turning to gather her half-washed clothes back up again, she added, “And I think you might still owe Sokka an apology for what you said last night.”

“He’s mad about Zuko leaving the North Pole too?”

“No.” She had a feeling that Sokka had been exaggerating his dislike of Zuko for some time, but she could hardly imagine that he was upset to see Zuko go. “But I’m sure he still misses Yue. You saw how upset he was when we had to leave her behind.”

“Sure, but Sokka and Yue were—” Aang cut himself off midsentence, and his cheeks flushed. Scratching the back of his head with one hand, he gestured back toward camp with the other. “O—okay, I see what you mean. I’ll go see if I can talk to Sokka before he decides we need to get moving again. See you later!” With that, he turned and fled toward camp like he was being chased by a dozen hungry platypus bears.

For a second or two, Katara remained in place, staring after his retreating back. Part of her wanted to stop him, to ask him what exactly he’d been planning to say about Sokka and Yue. To ask why he couldn’t finish the sentence, and what it had to do with her and Zuko. But another part of her—equally large, if not quite as loud or assertive—didn’t need to ask. Sokka and Yue had been in love. Katara and Zuko—well, she still couldn’t be sure how far her own feelings went, much less Zuko’s, but she wouldn’t be terribly surprised if Aang imagined it was all the same.

Maybe the fact that she wasn’t surprised ought to tell her something. Maybe her own feelings weren’t as opaque as she thought if she could imagine why Aang might reach that conclusion.

But the thought of it, the idea of being in love with Zuko sent waves of uncertainty coursing through her veins. Her hands clamped down on her still-damp tunic until droplets of moisture gathered on her fingertips.

Maybe puzzling out her feelings would have to wait until after she’d found Zuko again.

And maybe her resolution to set her search aside had come just a bit too soon.

Chapter Text

“See? I told you that this was what we all needed.” Sokka held a violently green bag over his head like a trophy. “This is why I’m the leader!”

Raising an eyebrow, Katara placed a hand on her hip. Sure, the trip into town had been Sokka’s idea. And yes, a day of relative idleness did feel necessary after their awful trip to Omashu and the fight with the Fire Nation girls in the dungeon and the argument with Aang. It was a relief to get out and goof around without worrying that Fire Nation soldiers were going to pop out around the next corner. But right now, Sokka was acting a little too ridiculous to credit him for much of anything.

“The bag?” she asked. “You think that bag is the solution to all of our problems?”

“Well—not necessarily, but it goes great with my outfit. Look. Look how great this is!”

Aang cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think that’s the right color to go with your outfit, Sokka.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Sokka dropped the bag back onto the shelf. “You guys are really pooping on my parade here. I go out of my way to take you out for a nice day of shopping and you’re not even happy for me when I find a bag that brings out my eyes.”

“It doesn’t really go with your eyes either,” Aang said, almost under his breath.

Sokka stuck out his tongue.

“You can still buy it,” Katara said. “You just—don’t ever have to worry about either of us trying to secretly borrow it for a trip into town.”

A frown. “Somehow, I think that’s worse.” Turning on the spot, he made for the street, though not without a long, mournful glance back at the bag. “Fine. I’m ready for lunch anyway.”

It wasn’t noon yet, not even close, but Katara opted not to mention that.

 “Oh! Can we get dumplings? I think I saw a place a few blocks back that way,” Aang said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hmm.” Sokka rubbed his chin. “I was really hoping for something nice and meaty.”

“Ugh, meat again? You guys have jerky all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s different! Jerky is dried. You try chewing on uncooked rice sometime and let me know if it’s the same experience as freshly cooked.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “You guys said we were spending the whole day here. I think we can manage to have two different meals before we leave.”

Sokka pursed his lips briefly, then shrugged. “Okay, fair point. Where is this dumpling place? If we can’t find it in half an hour, we’re gonna find someplace that serves meat instead.”

They made it a few blocks through the steady bustle with Aang giving vague directions toward where he thought he’d seen the dumpling place before Katara grew bored with the conversation and allowed her eyes to wander. This town—Gaoling, she thought she remembered from the sign above its gates—was nowhere near the size of Omashu. At the same time, it was large enough, sprawling enough that hardly anyone spared her or the boys a second glance. Newcomers, it seemed, were a common enough occurrence here that they didn’t warrant any notice.

It was nice. Noisy, but still calm. Welcoming, but not overbearing. And the buildings, for the most part, were uniform in their tidiness. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Fire Nation had made it nearly this far into the Earth Kingdom, she might have liked to stay longer.

As it was, she was happy enough to take in the brightly colored tiles on the roofs and the patterns painted around the doors and windows until the three of them passed by a great, arched gate. At the sight of it, Katara stopped in her tracks.

“Oh, what now?” Sokka said. “Don’t tell me that you have a special meal request too. I’m not giving up my meaty dinner, no matter how much you beg.”

Scowling, she elbowed him before gesturing to the sign by the gate. “Look. Is that interesting enough for you?”

Master Yu’s Earthbending Academy. Training the finest earthbenders in all of Gaoling for more than fifty years.

“Well?” she prompted after a few seconds of silence, craning her neck to get a look at Aang on Sokka’s other side. “What do you guys think?”

After a brief frown, Sokka shook his head. “I think this is a problem for full-belly Sokka. Dumplings first, figuring out if this Master Yu is the person Bumi foretold later.”

This was her idea. Katara had to keep telling herself that. It was her idea to stop and speak to Master Yu, to at least look into resuming earthbending lessons with a new and hopefully better master.

It was her idea. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for the fact that Aang had been swept off into a fussy-looking earthbending uniform and straight into a trial lesson from there. And as much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, from where she sat on the sidelines, the lesson didn’t seem promising.

“Broaden your stance,” Master Yu called out to Aang. “You need a solid base in order to block their attacks.”

Aang looked from Yu to the line of other students and back again. “That’s it? I just have to block them?”

“That is the best place to start,” Master Yu said cheerfully. “Go on. I’m sure the Avatar, of all people, will have no trouble at all.”

Katara did her best to offer a supportive smile when Aang glanced her way, then dropped her head into her hands when he turned back toward the row of earthbenders. This was a bad idea. In just the few minutes since they’d arrived, she’d seen enough of Master Yu’s personality—pompous and presumptuous—to feel the seeds of dislike already taking root. The word ‘Avatar’ alone had been enough to set him off into a fit of boasting, and he’d been in such a hurry to drag Aang off as a presumptive new student that he hadn’t even listened long enough to hear that Katara needed lessons too.

Not that it seemed to matter. Though Master Yu hadn’t said it aloud, the fact that each and every student in his class was a boy spoke loud enough on its own. He was Pakku all over again, only with less solemnity, more greed, and, if the boasting she’d seen so far was any indication, practically no scruples that could keep him from announcing to the whole world that the Avatar was training with him, right here in Gaoling.

Sokka elbowed her in the side. “Aren’t you going to watch this?” he hissed.

“I’d really rather not.”

“Wasn’t this your idea?”

Scowling, she angled her head just far enough to the side to meet his eyes. “I messed up, okay? How was I supposed to know that this guy would be—”

“On my mark, boys!” Master Yu shouted. “One. Two. And strike!”

She heard a crunch as each of the students pulled their own stone from the ground, then succumbed to curiosity just in time to see Aang land on his backside, half buried in rubble.

“Oooh,” Sokka said with a wince. “That made my tailbone hurt.”

“Excellent work!” Master Yu crowed, patting the nearest boy on the shoulder. “Excellent, excellent. Now boys, you all know what you need to practice tonight. We can’t have you falling behind now that Avatar Aang will be joining us. An hour of drills every night should do the trick.” With that, he dismissed them all with a wave.

Avatar Aang will be joining us. He had a lot of nerve to make an assumption like that without even asking.

As the other students filed out, Katara and Sokka both rose, and Aang wriggled his way out from under the rubble, dusty and looking a little dazed.

“Aang are you okay?” she asked.

“That landing looked rough on the backside,” Sokka added.

Aang shook his head like he thought he could shake the dust out of his nose, sneezed hard enough to lift a few inches off the ground, then shrugged, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I made a little airbending bubble around me. It didn’t hurt too bad.”

“Of course it didn’t,” Master Yu said. He strode across the courtyard to give Aang the same friendly clap on the shoulder. “A remarkable first try, if I do say so myself. The Avatar is a natural talent.”

One of Katara’s eyebrows shot upward, and Sokka barely managed to stifle a scoff.

“How do you know?” Aang said. He smacked at his tunic to shake more of the dust loose. “I didn’t do any earthbending.”

Master Yu waved his hand dismissively. “You stood your ground beautifully. Everything else will take time, but it seems that you have an excellent foundation to build upon.” He nodded to Sokka, then Katara. “If you and your friends would like to step inside for a moment, I believe I can spare a few minutes to discuss the details of your enrollment before my next lesson begins.”

His next lesson? How many people were paying this guy to teach their children?

“Um, no thanks,” Aang said. “I appreciate the free trial lesson, but we’re going to need something a little more—”

“We?” Master Yu’s eyes lit up, and he turned toward Sokka excitedly. “Of course. How foolish of me not to ask. You are in need of lessons as well?”

Affronted, Katara crossed her arms. “No. He’s not a bender. I am.”

To his credit, Master Yu didn’t seem upset or offended by that. He chuckled. “Of course, of course. You’ll have to forgive me. It’s not every day I have a chance to meet such an illustrious figure as the Avatar himself. I’m in a bit of a flutter.”

“We need someone who’s willing to teach us both,” she said, stony-faced. “Not just Aang. And if there aren’t any girls allowed in your classes, we’re going to have to move on.”

Another chuckle. “I have no objection to teaching young ladies. Although—I suppose there are not any enrolled in group lessons. How unusual that I’ve never noticed that before.” Then, after a moment staring thoughtfully across the courtyard, he resumed, “I have had several female students, but I’ve found that most parents prefer their daughters to be educated away from any roughness or prying eyes. Private lessons serve that purpose perfectly well.”

Sokka made a face. “Yeah, there’s no way we can afford private lessons.”

“Ah, but for the Avatar and his friend, I’m sure I can make arrangements. Where did you say that the two of you were from?”

“We didn’t, but Kyoshi Island,” Sokka lied.

“Wonderful! Then if your family is willing to consent—or if they are not in Gaoling to raise any objections—then I could almost certainly allow the young lady to join group lessons alongside the Avatar.” Master Yu looked entirely too pleased with himself. “For two such esteemed guests, I can offer the very special price of two silver a week!”

Her eyes involuntarily widened. What? He had to be insane. They weren’t that short on money—at least not yet—but what money they still had wouldn’t last long if they had to pay that much for lessons.

Before the boys could protest, she grabbed them both by the arm. “Thank you for the offer, Master Yu. I think my friends and I are going to need the evening to discuss it.” Then, as smoothly as she could, she aimed them all back toward the street.

“Holy shit,” Sokka hissed once the gate closed behind them. “Are all earthbending masters nuts? Because I’m starting to see a pattern here.”

“Hey!” Aang protested. “Bumi’s an earthbending master too, you know.”

Sokka blinked. Then, “Like I said, I’m starting to see a—”

“Oh, come on,” Katara said, grabbing him by the elbow again and starting down the street. “He’s not the teacher we’re looking for. Now we know that, so let’s just go. We have to have better luck sooner or later.”

Aang trotted to catch up with them, small swirls of dust curling around him as every movement shook a little more dirt free. “So what are we gonna do now? We’ve already done shopping and had lunch, and it’s still a long time before dinner, and—”

Sokka glanced his way, did a double-take at something in the street behind them, and met Aang’s eyes again. “I think Master Yu is gonna have some words with you for stealing his sample uniform before we can do anything else.”

A groan escaped from Katara’s throat before she could stop it, and she turned back just far enough to catch a glimpse of Master Yu’s silhouette before Sokka swatted the side of her head.

“Don’t look. It’ll only encourage him.”

She rubbed the spot where his hand made contact. “Well, if he’s already following us—”

“Shh, shh, shh!” Frowning, Sokka kept staring back over his shoulder, apparently unconcerned with the possibility that his staring might encourage Master Yu as much as anyone else’s. His forehead creased, and after another moment, he let out a sigh. “Okay, false alarm, I guess. He’s going the other way. Guess when you charge a bunch of people an arm and a leg to teach their kids, it’s not that big a deal if some of your uniforms walk away.”

“Wait,” Aang said. “Didn’t Master Yu say that he had another lesson right after he was done talking to us?”

Slowly, Katara nodded. “I think he did.”

“So then where is he going?”

She glanced Sokka’s way, and he quirked an eyebrow upward. “Anyone else in the mood to snoop? I, for one, can’t think of anything better to do.”

When Master Yu disappeared through an enormous, ornate gate, Katara began to understand why he thought he could charge so much for his earthbending lessons. She didn’t like it, but clearly the man had at least one enormously wealthy patron who could pay his rates and inflate his ego.

Sokka stopped in the middle of the path and planted his hands on his hips. “Well, good snooping, guys. I really thought that would take longer.”

Katara gave a small grunt of agreement. “I guess he never said his next lesson was another class. I can’t even imagine how much money he’s charging these people to make house calls for earthbending lessons.”

“Hopefully it’s a big family, at least.” Sokka stretched, yawned, and swung back around. “Well, what do you guys think? Back to camp, or very, very early dinner?”

“What? No, guys, we can’t just leave!” There was a strange sense of urgency in Aang’s voice, and he grabbed them both by the arm. “This place—I don’t know what it is, but it feels really important.”

Sokka looked from Aang to the elaborate gates and back again. “Uh, yeah, I’m getting that too. Like some kind of palace or whatever. But unless you’ve got some old friends from Gaoling who would be rich enough to live here—”

Aang shook his head. “No, it isn’t that.”

Katara followed his gaze to the engraving by the gate. “Beifong? Do you remember that name from someplace?”

Again, Aang shook his head. “No. But I just have this feeling—we have to get inside.”

The gates, unfortunately, wouldn’t yield, and although Katara could have sworn that she saw one of the panels open just far enough for a guard to peer out at them, no one so much as asked them who they were or what they wanted. Aang was undeterred, though, and he half-dragged the two of them around the outer walls until, almost at the opposite end of the estate, he opened his glider and hauled all of them up to the top of the wall.

“Dude,” Sokka hissed. “What are you trying to do?”

If Aang heard him, he pretended not to. “They’ve gotta be here,” he whispered, sprawling on the roof tiles to get a look into the garden without being quite so visible. “I heard earthbending. Didn’t you guys hear earthbending?”

Katara lay on her stomach next to him, but shook her head. “I heard our feet in the gravel. Aang, are you sure that wasn’t what you—”

Before she could get any farther, there was a gravelly crunch from farther back in the garden, and her gaze jerked upward to where Master Yu stood side-by-side with a student who had just lifted a small paving stone from the ground.

Oh. Apparently Aang had heard something.

Carefully, Katara scooted as close to the edge of the wall as she dared. From here, the student seemed to be a girl around Aang’s age, short and sturdy, and wearing a dress that simultaneously made no sense for earthbending lessons and suited the elaborate garden perfectly.

Master Yu gave the girl a quiet instruction, and when she lowered the paving stone back into place, he clapped. “Excellent work, Miss Beifong! One more time, if you please.”

Bemused, Katara watched the girl raise the stone to waist height again, then lower it back into the ground, prompting more clapping from Master Yu. She had to be missing something. Right? Katara could do that much earthbending. Surely a twelve-year-old girl whose parents could afford to pay Master Yu as a private tutor could do something a little more worthy of celebration than raising and lowering a rock.

A scoff came from Sokka’s direction. “Rich people. I hope they know that this is what they’re paying for.”

Pulling her eyes away from yet another cycle of the same unimpressive motions, Katara started, “Do you think he’s the only earthbending teacher in town or something? Because if there’s someone else around, I’m sure—”

“That’s her,” Aang breathed, seeming not to notice that either of them had spoken at all.

Sokka hesitated for a long moment, then poked him in the shoulder. “Come again? Her who?”

“The girl.” Then, after shaking himself back to reality, “The girl from my swamp vision. That’s her! Guys, we’ve gotta talk to her!”

“Do we?” Katara said before she could stop herself. She stood by the question, though. Sure, the girl was an earthbender, but her abilities seemed lackluster at best. And outside of earthbending—she was a little girl from a rich family. Just because their money was starting to run a little low didn’t mean that they had to suck up to a rich family for charity.

Down in the garden, Master Yu gave another instruction, and the girl began sliding the stone around in a careful circle.

“I’m kinda with Katara here,” Sokka said. “I don’t exactly see what we’d even have to talk about with—wait.” Squinting, he leaned forward. “Is she blind? Guys, I think the swamp girl might be—”

There was a sharp plink near his elbow, and he clapped his hands over his mouth as if to stifle a yelp. The tile, which Katara could have sworn was intact just a moment before, lay in a handful of sharp pieces.

“Careful movements, Miss Beifong,” Master Yu admonished. “We wouldn’t want any flying rocks to damage your mother’s lovely garden, would we?”

There was just the briefest flicker of a wicked smile on the girl’s face before she resumed her slow, meticulous movements. “Sorry, Master Yu. I think that one got away from me.”

“I understand,” he said patiently. “Now, remember the stance we have been practicing. You must keep your feet placed—”

As he walked around to correct her posture, the girl gave a single, sharp flick of her wrist, sending two more pebbles whizzing across the garden to impact just in front of Katara and Aang respectively. And though her eyes couldn’t seem to find them, there was a sort of steady watchfulness in her expression all the same. A look that said, I know you’re there. I know you’re watching me.  

“Well,” Sokka squeaked, “I think that’s enough target practice for me. Come on.” He slid backward until he managed to drop into the street. “I think we can pass on talking to a kid who uses rocks to say hello.”

“You two are late.”

This felt very familiar. Possibly because this was the same little room in the armored train-thing where Ty Lee had first joined Azula after leaving the circus. Azula was even sitting in the same spot, lounging on a bunch of cushions while filing her nails into sharp points.

Yeah, that had to be part of it. But also, Ty Lee had the same fidgety feeling as she had back then. It was kind of awful. Normally, when she had this much nervous energy bouncing around inside, she would just do a handstand until all the nervousness worked itself out, but her feet would probably hit the ceiling if she tried that in here.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Mai answered. “We had to take a detour. I was not about to go through the main river crossing. Getting my robes wet is bad enough, but I refuse to deal with mud.”

“And I didn’t mind the mud,” Ty Lee chimed in, “but Mai had the map, so I didn’t want to split up. What if I’d gotten lost?”

Azula raised an eyebrow at them both before turning her attention back to her nails. “I’m sure the local squirrel toad population would have adopted you, Ty Lee. You would blend right in. And Mai—” she paused her filing just long enough to look Mai up and down. “No one would have known the difference if you’d rolled in the mud. I swear, the colors you manage to find—”

Ooh, this was familiar too. There was an odd little twinge in her stomach that had felt nearly inescapable when they were all in school together, the feeling that always came when Azula’s mean side emerged from the shadows. She didn’t like it.

“Your lead must have turned out well,” Mai shot back. “I don’t see why else you’d be talking like you don’t need our help.”

That seemed to strike a nerve, and Azula slammed her nail file down on the little gilded tray beside her. “For your information, the lead was perfectly good. While the two of you were taking your sweet time saying goodbye to Michi and Ukano, I did find my dear brother. Right where my sources said he would be.”

“And?” Mai’s voice remained as calm as ever, and she pulled out one of her blades and twirled it around in her hand. “I didn’t see him on the way in. Li and Lo didn’t say anything about him either. Have you finally trained them to keep their mouths shut?”

Slowly, menacingly, Azula rose to her feet. “And if the two of you had been here, perhaps there might have been something to see.”

Ty Lee’s hand shot up into the air like they were back in school, and when Azula turned a sharp, burning glare in her direction, she did her best to pretend that she was just stretching. Then, when the act didn’t appear to fool either of the others, she said, “Um—but you told us to stay behind in Omashu. Didn’t you? I remember you saying that it was probably just a false lead anyway.”

Azula’s gaze held a few seconds too long, but she eventually gave a slight inclination of her head. Not a nod, exactly, but an acknowledgement, at the very least. “Fine. I’ll admit that my information was a bit shaky at the time.” Smoothing one of the locks of hair that hung by the side of her face, she turned toward a map pinned to the wall. “Zuko and Uncle Iroh being taken in by a pretty little Earth Kingdom village? Absurd. But he was there, and it seems that our sweet Zuzu has been picking up some nasty new tricks since he’s been away.”

“Such as?” Mai asked lazily.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m taking precautions from now on. He won’t get away with it again.”

Hmm. Ty Lee certainly wasn’t an expert, but judging by the tension in Azula’s voice and the angry flickers in her aura, it almost seemed like Azula had been tricked. Like Zuko might not be the same gullible dumb-dumb he’d been as a kid. Like maybe Azula didn’t have the same insurmountable advantages over Zuko that she’d had years ago.

Ugh, Ty Lee really needed to do some cartwheels. All this wondering was making her itch, and if she wasn’t careful, she might blurt out what she was thinking.

“Never mind,” Azula said, switching back to her usual flippant breeziness as she turned to face them again. “We’re going to find him, we’re going to catch him, and then we’re going to bring him home. Nothing could be simpler.”

“Couldn’t it?” Ty Lee asked, then clamped her lips shut when Azula shot a glare her way.

“The Avatar is in the Earth Kingdom,” Mai said, lifting her blade up so that she could study its edges. “Couldn’t that complicate things?”

Azula stared for a few seconds. “I suppose that depends on where in the Earth Kingdom the Avatar is.”

“He was in Omashu the other day. Broke into the dungeons to talk to that nutjob of a king with a couple of other kids—I think it was an earthbender girl and a nonbender boy.” Mai ran her thumb along the edge of her blade before tucking it back up her sleeve. “We would have caught them if the old coot hadn’t knocked a hole in the wall to let them out.”

Again, Azula just stared for a short while before a smile crept across her face. “Well, girls, I think I might have a new idea.” She leaned forward, resting an arm on Mai’s shoulder and the other on Ty Lee’s. “We’re still trying to find Zuko, of course. I haven’t forgotten Father’s orders. But can you imagine how humiliated Zuzu will be when he has to spend his whole journey back home locked in the cell next to his own quarry?”

Chapter Text

“Hey, chuckleheads!”

The shout roused Katara so abruptly and completely that she managed to leap to her feet without climbing out of her sleeping bag first. Or leaving her tent, for that matter. Sleepy and disoriented, she fumbled around in an effort to disentangle herself until at last she managed to poke her head out. Across the clearing, Sokka stared blearily out of the mouth of his own tent, and Aang sat bolt upright on Appa’s tail, his tunic twisted and pulled up high enough to leave his belly button entirely exposed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The girl—the same earthbender from earlier in the day, probably—stood in the center of the clearing, her head angled downward. “Three nosy kids. Not even smart enough to keep watch at night.” She thumped her heel on the ground and gave a small frown. “The big, furry lump is a surprise, though. What on earth is that?”

The girl, for all her brashness, wouldn’t look any of them in the eye. Or maybe she couldn’t. Sokka had guessed that she might be blind, after all. Katara rubbed her eyes. The girl wore far plainer clothes now than she had during her earthbending lessons, she was barefoot for some reason, and she pointed only vaguely in Appa’s direction without actually looking his way. And she was alone. That was probably the strangest thing.

Aang fumbled around, straightening his tunic and dusting his hands off on his thighs. “Oh, that’s just Appa, my sky bison. I’m really glad to meet you! My name is Aang. What’s yours?”

She gave no acknowledgement of the hand that Aang stuck out in her direction. “What makes you think I care about your name? Any of your names? You three are in my town, snooping around my house. I want to know why you were spying on me.”

Katara crawled the rest of the way out of her tent, then stopped short, blinking to check that she wasn’t imagining things. Where there had previously been nothing but a ring of scraggly bushes between them and the trees, there now stood an impressive ring of spiky stone walls nearly as tall as Appa. Frowning, she crossed her arms. Clearly, the girl was a good earthbender. Unfortunately, that almost certainly meant that she was a liar as well. At least where her earthbending master was concerned.

“Well, I’m the Avatar, and my friend Katara is too, and we’re looking for an earthbending teacher who can work with both of us, and—”

The girl raised a hand to cut him off. “Too many details. I don’t care. Why were you snooping around my house and watching my stupid little earthbending lesson?”

Aang still seemed too enthusiastic to slow down. “I was just getting to that! Katara and I were looking for an earthbending teacher, and Master Yu seemed kind of—weird, but then we realized that he was teaching you too, and you’re a lot better at earthbending than you’re showing your own teacher, and since I saw a vision of you in the Foggy Swamp, I thought you might be the teacher we’re supposed to work with!”

Sokka blinked a few times. “Hey, buddy? Maybe don’t lead with the swamp vision angle next time, okay?”

The girl pointed vaguely in Sokka’s direction. “Great point from the sloth boy.”

“Hey,” Sokka said, but his tone was too sleepy for even Katara to take him seriously.

“I’m not here to listen to make-believe stories,” the girl continued, ignoring the protest. “And I’m not looking to make friends or become anyone’s teacher. Understand? I’ve got a good thing going here, and I don’t want anyone snooping around trying to ruin it.”

“Fine,” Katara said slowly. “But in case you didn’t notice, the rock-throwing scared us off already. Why come all the way out here to tell us to leave again?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got the message. Never know what’s gonna happen when a bunch of strangers turn up and start meddling where they don’t have any business.”

“We’re not strangers, though,” Aang said earnestly. “I mean—yeah, I guess this is our first time in Gaoling, but we’ve been traveling all around the Earth Kingdom, and we’re trying to end the war. You could come with us if you want.”

The girl scoffed. “Oh, yeah. Seems like you’re all really living it up out here. I can’t imagine why anyone would have reservations about joining you.” She crossed her arms. “Listen, I’m not interested in blowing up my life to try to help a couple of delusional kids who think they’re gonna singlehandedly save the world or whatever. Take it from me. No one listens to kids. If you want anyone to buy this dumb act, you’d be better off duping someone like Master Yu. At least if he was on your side, you might stand a chance at getting people to listen.”

“But I am the Avatar!” Aang said, frantically patting his pockets until he finally managed to produce his marbles from one of them. “See? Airbending. Everyone knows that the Avatar is an airbender, and I’m the only one left.”

The girl tilted her head ever so slightly. “Shockingly, I don’t see. But whatever you’re doing, I’m sure it’s not that impressive.”

“Oh. Right. Well—Katara, then you try! You can waterbend and earthbend. Maybe she could sense that if you would just—”

Frowning, Katara shook her head. “I don’t think I want to.” Sure, she could prove herself as the Avatar, but for what? The little earthbender was powerful enough—the fact that she’d managed to raise the stone walls around them without waking anyone made that clear—but that wouldn’t necessarily make her a good teacher. She was kind of annoying and stuck up, and the obvious self-centeredness didn’t seem to bode well for her loyalty to any kind of cause. “Frankly, I’m not that interested in impressing anyone who thinks it makes sense to barge into our camp in the middle of the night just to say ‘leave me alone’.”

At that, the girl cocked her head to the side, one corner of her mouth creeping upward in what looked like bemused curiosity. Like appreciation, almost.

She didn’t seem to change her mind, though. Spinning on her heel, she thumped the ground with one foot, and one of the stone columns slid down until it was level with the ground again. “Thank the spirits that some of you know how to listen to reason. Maybe you should try that every once in a while, Twinkle Toes.” Then, before any of them could try to stop her, she marched out into the darkened forest.

Still looking drowsy, Sokka rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “So—I don’t know how to tell you this buddy, but I think your swamp vision might have been confused. She doesn’t really seem like the teacher type.”

“I heard that!” The girl shouted back at them, but she didn’t so much as slow down.

As Katara saw it, there wasn’t much reason to stick around in Gaoling. They didn’t need to resupply yet, Master Yu had proven worthless, and the Beifong girl seemed utterly uninterested in helping them.

Unfortunately, it was proving equally difficult to find any reason to leave. They needed to stay out of the Fire Nation’s sight, and it seemed that the Fire Nation had yet to reach Gaoling. They needed to train, and while Gaoling didn’t seem likely to promise much in the way of earthbending teachers, there were plenty of clear, open spaces to practice, and no likelier prospects anyplace else. And although she tried not to dwell on him too much, Katara couldn’t completely push Zuko from her mind. He’d been traveling toward Omashu. The less that she and the boys strayed from the area, the better her chances of finding him would be.

So after a morning waterbending lesson with Aang and an hour or so of loose experimentation with her earthbending—Aang tried to join her, but couldn’t seem to get the rocks to move—she couldn’t see any harm in another trip back into the city. Wandering around the market for a few hours sounded better than nothing. And if all that wandering allowed them to overhear snippets of gossip, either about a pair of firebenders in disguise or about another decent earthbending master in the area, she could hardly complain.

She could, however, complain a little when the boys got their hands on a flyer for something called an Earth Rumble and immediately decided that, whatever an Earth Rumble was, it would ruin both their lives if they didn’t get to see it.

“Yeah, buddy!” Sokka threw an arm around Aang’s shoulders. “We’re gonna rumble tonight!”

Katara planted her hands on her hips. “Sokka, stop saying that like you know what it means. You’ve never heard of anything called an Earth Rumble before.”

Sokka pretended not to hear her and leaned sideways until his head nearly brushed against Aang’s. “Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble.”

“Stop with the chanting too. You’re going to cause a scene.”

Aang looked like he wanted to join in on the chanting—like he would have if not for the fact that Katara was displeased. “Come on, Katara. The flyer says that a lot of great earthbenders are going to be there. That’s what we’re looking for, right?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure I want to look for a teacher at something called a Rumble. General Fong and Master Yu were bad enough already.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we try,” Aang said brightly. “They can’t all be bad.”

Sokka kept chanting in a whisper, staring as though hoping to hypnotize her with the sheer weight of his gaze. He was excited. Aang was excited.

After a long, long pause, she finally sighed. The Earth Rumble sounded annoying. Based on the flyer’s description alone, she was already dreading the inevitable gushing from Sokka. But if they didn’t go, he would almost certainly make himself more insufferable than ever. “You guys are impossible.”

Sokka threw his hands up in the air. “Yeah, we’re rumblin’!”

She gave him a sour look. “Every time you say that word, I get less excited.”

“Hmm.” For what felt like the hundredth time, the scrawny, stooped old man turned the collection of hairpins and bejeweled trinkets over on his counter. “You say you’re selling all of this?”

As steadily as he could, Zuko nodded. “Yes. Is—is that a problem?”

“Not as such.” With a frown, the pawnbroker looked up just far enough to meet Zuko’s eyes. “Not much of a market for jewelry out here, is all. And not many people willing to permanently part with their valuables either.”

“I’m just passing through,” Zuko rasped. “I won’t have the time to stick around and earn the money to buy anything back. I need to keep moving.”

Maybe more importantly, he needed the money. The few Fire Nation coins he’d found in Azula’s saddle still sat heavy at the bottom of his pocket, but spending those—after he’d ridden into town on a mongoose lizard, with his all-too-distinctive face—felt like too great a risk. He needed money for food. He didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention his way, especially when he was so ill-equipped to defend himself.

As surreptitiously as he could, he leaned against the counter. After two days of what felt like near-constant travel, the ache in his back had spread clear through his chest so that it hurt to walk, to stand, even to breathe. Still, the short breaks he allowed himself felt like too much. Every moment that he wasn’t moving gave Azula another chance to make up for lost ground, to come a little closer to ensnaring him all over again.

Now if only the pawnbroker would get moving, maybe Zuko could restock his food supplies and get back on the road before anyone had a chance to recognize him and send word to Azula.

“Seems more and more people get the same idea every day. Sooner or later, I’ll run out of customers if everyone keeps moving away.” The old man adjusted his tiny spectacles and stooped to examine a clunky, jewel-encrusted brooch that had been pinned to Azula’s eelskin cloak. “Where are you headed?”

“Away from the fighting,” Zuko said, voice as flat as he could manage.

“Gets to be fewer and fewer places like that every day.” A quick, piercing look shot into Zuko’s eyes before turning back to the brooch. “Seen much fighting yourself?”

His stomach clenched, and Zuko averted his eyes. He wasn’t here to make small talk, but unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any good alternatives. Silence would be suspicious.

Not for the first time, he wished that Uncle were here.

“Enough.”

“Hmm.” For a few seconds, that was where the conversation stalled. Then, at long last, the pawnbroker finished his inspection of the brooch, and an odd look came over his face. Letting the brooch drop, he rested his elbows on the counter and looked up at Zuko. “Where’d you come across all this?”

Zuko blinked. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“It is if you’re asking me to buy Fire Nation contraband. I’ve been around long enough to recognize that craftsmanship.” His gaze held firm, and it took all of Zuko’s will to keep from squirming. “I don’t reckon a kid who could get his hands on this kind of jewelry legitimately would be running out of money only three weeks out from the coast.”

Cornered, Zuko shook his head after a few seconds of silence. What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t pretend that he’d had enough money to buy the sorts of trinkets that Azula traveled with, and while he could certainly have inherited it all from some half-forgotten relative, he couldn’t admit to being Fire Nation. He really should have had an explanation prepared before he ever ventured into town.

“Have you been stealing from the colonies, then? Or a Fire Nation regiment somewhere?”

“N—not exactly,” he said, voice weak.

Frowning, the pawnbroker adjusted his spectacles, then rubbed his chin. He looked Zuko up and down, eyes narrowed in something like suspicion.

Zuko should probably run. If he swept all the jewelry off the counter and made a beeline for the door, he probably wouldn’t lose more than a hairpin or two, and the pawnbroker probably wouldn’t be able to stop him. He wasn’t in the best condition to run at the moment, but he could probably still make it out the door and to his mongoose lizard before anyone could stop him. And from there, he could probably manage to ride another day without food before attempting to barter with a somewhat less-shrewd merchant in the next town he came across. It wouldn’t be ideal, and he would almost certainly come away less well-provisioned than if he’d been able to sell the jewelry first, but he could.  

“How old are you, kid?”

“I—” When the words sunk in properly, Zuko broke off and his forehead creased. What? He was clearly old enough to travel alone. “I’m sixteen.”

“Ah.” The pawnbroker’s frown deepened, and his eyes darted around a few times before he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Tell me the truth, kid. Did this all come from your regiment’s confiscated goods?”

“What?”

“The truth. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not above dealing with contraband, and I’m certainly not interested in turning over any teenaged deserters. But deals like this come with risks, and I’m too old to take a chance on getting a beating from your recruiting officer when he comes looking for you.”

Huh? Dumbfounded, Zuko could do nothing but stare for a few seconds before it struck him—the old man thought that Zuko was an Earth Kingdom soldier. A new recruit, a deserter. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t work out why his age would be the determining factor in that conclusion, but the fact that he’d admitted to having seen some fighting before trying to flee the war did have its implications. And if he’d managed to acquire Fire Nation jewelry without any direct dealings with the Fire Nation itself, an Earth Kingdom military confiscation was probably the next closest bet.

“What do you want the truth about?” Zuko asked hesitantly. The last thing he needed was to leap too far ahead, to assume and say too much.

“How far off are they? Your commanders can’t have let you run away too easy.” The old man’s gaze flicked downward, as if to imply that he’d noticed how Zuko was holding himself, trying to take the pressure off of an injury. “I’ll have to move all this on before anyone comes asking questions.”

Briefly, Zuko could hear Azula’s enraged shouts behind him, could feel the flames roaring a bit too close to his skin as he fled. Yeah, that was probably a good idea. Whatever punishment the old man was expecting for aiding an Earth Kingdom deserter would almost certainly pale in comparison with what Azula would do to anyone who’d helped him.

“I’m not sure,” he said truthfully. “I’ve been too busy running to worry about looking over my shoulder.”

A frown. “Do you at least know how long you’ve been running?”

“Almost three days.”

“Hmpf. Ordinarily, I’d ask twice that much to move a set of farm tools.” Despite his apparent displeasure, though, the pawnbroker just straightened a little. “Do they know where you’re going?”

Zuko shook his head. “Not sure how they could when I don’t even know where I’m going.”

The old man gave a grunt, then inclined his head toward the shelves around Zuko. “Fine. Pick out any supplies you might need. I’ll take the jewelry, but I won’t pay more than half in gold on such short notice.”

Slowly, the tension that had built up in Zuko’s chest started to ease. This wasn’t quite the bargain he had envisioned—ideally, he would have preferred the full amount in gold so that he could buy as much food as possible—but he wasn’t particularly well-supplied to begin with. A proper blanket or a tent wouldn’t buy him any extra time before hunger began to drag him downward, but maybe, if he was very lucky, the extra rest he would get with a proper shelter would allow his ribs to heal.

Considering how few expectations Katara had had for the Earth Rumble, it was remarkable how little the whole spectacle surprised her. The underground arena was full of sweaty, shirtless men, both in the stands and down on the stone platform in the center of the arena, which seemed fitting. There were vendors walking up and down the aisles with trays loaded with some kind of meat skewers—Sokka bought enough of those that he tried to pass a handful over to Aang when the next vendor approached with an array of juices—and the shouting and laughing from farther up in the stands was so loud that Katara was surprised the vendors managed to understand what anyone was asking them for. And the event itself was equally unsurprising. A bunch of sweaty, shirtless men, most of them enormously muscular, took turns mounting the platform and throwing rocks at each other.

Her expectations had never been high, but still, Katara was disappointed. She could appreciate a good fight as much as anyone. She’d always enjoyed the sparring matches back at the North Pole—though she preferred participating over watching—and earthbending itself was new enough that the novelty should have been enough to keep her attention. But after the first bulky earthbender knocked his opponent off the platform with a stone almost the size of the man himself, every match seemed more or less the same. Big men, big rocks, and howls of both triumph and defeat when one inevitably threw the other over the side. In terms of sheer power, the bending was admittedly impressive, but the moves were barely more complex than what she’d seen at Master Yu’s academy. Katara could pick a rock up off the ground and launch it into someone’s stomach too. Not with the speed or the force that these men could muster, of course, but then she had only begun to learn the basics a few weeks ago.

With a sigh, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees as yet another man went flying. How much longer was this thing supposed to go on? She probably couldn’t drag the boys away if she tried, but she wasn’t sure how much more of this she wanted to deal with. The repetition would have been bad enough on its own, but Sokka kept flailing his arms around and yelling way too close to her ear with each new contestant.

She was debating whether or not she should excuse herself to retrieve more snacks when the announcer stepped out onto the platform and called for a final round of wagers for the last match of the night. Oh. Katara leaned back on her hands. She could handle one more match. She wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but she’d lasted this long already. How bad could another half hour be?

“And now, everybody stand clear! The match you’ve all been waiting for is about to begin! Please welcome The Boulder and the Earth Rumble’s reigning champion, the Blind Bandit!”

Katara clapped her hands over her ears when Sokka began cheering all over again, but almost before her hands reached her ears, he went silent in shock. And for the first time in the entire night, Katara felt more or less the same.

The Blind Bandit, the champion of the Earth Rumble, and the earthbender who was meant to take on the man Sokka had been cheering for all night, looked very much like the little Beifong girl.

“Guys, go, go, go!” Aang shoved Katara hard enough that she bumped up against Sokka’s back. “Hurry! That’s the same girl. We’ve gotta talk to her before she leaves.”

“Aang, stop pushing,” she snapped back over her shoulder. “Nobody is going to get anywhere if we trip over each other.”

He didn’t seem to care. When she didn’t move fast enough—because Sokka wasn’t moving, because the aisles were filled with other spectators—Aang went up on his tiptoes to shout toward the bending platform. “Blind Bandit! Hey, Blind Bandit! We want to talk to you!”

Over the noise of the crowd, there was no way that his voice could carry far enough, but the Blind Bandit seemed to be taking her time on stage, accepting her prizes, gloating over The Boulder, and basking in the lingering shouts and cheers from the crowd. Enough so that when a gap opened in the crowd below them, and Aang grabbed Katara by the arm and began hopping across rows of seats toward the bottom railing, the Blind Bandit was still there, hoisting her massive prize belt over her head and grinning.

“Hey!” Aang shouted again. “Blind Bandit, it’s us! Remember? From last night?”

Katara still didn’t think that his voice was likely to carry over the noise of the crowd, but the Blind Bandit stopped all the same, turning back just far enough to reveal her bemused expression in profile. After the briefest of pauses, she jabbed a finger at Aang—or at least close enough that it seemed like she was pointing at Aang—then at the open doorway on the far side of the platform.

You three. Meet me there, she seemed to mouth before marching off toward the door again.

Sokka thumped the last few steps down to join the others, and Katara exchanged a look with him just before Aang grabbed her arm again. Before she could resist, they were all moving again, picking their way along the edge of the crowd and down the steps.

A large, burly man—not one of the Earth Rumble participants, as far as Katara could remember—tried to stop them at the threshold, but the Blind Bandit called out from farther back in the shadows.

“Let them be. I asked them to come back here for a little talk.” She made a show of cracking her knuckles, which might have been more effective if not for the fact that she was only half visible in the dimness.

The man shrugged and without any further prompting, thumped off down the corridor.

When the four of them were alone, the Blind Bandit crossed her arms. “Didn’t you idiots hear what I said last night? I asked you not to follow me around anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Sokka managed to sound incredibly offended at that remark. “This is a public rumble, short stuff. I don’t know about these two, but I was here to watch The Boulder.” He put his nose up in the air and gave a haughty sniff. “Did you really have to trounce him that bad? It’s humiliating for all of us who just wanted to see an honest fight.”

The Blind Bandit snorted. “If he really wanted to win, he could just train harder. And if he didn’t want to be humiliated, he could have forfeited. It’s not my fault that these boneheads all refuse to learn.”

Though the smugness was a bit much, Katara had to admit that the Blind Bandit had a point. She had noticed it herself—all the other earthbenders were strong, but their originality was somewhat lacking. The Blind Bandit, on the other hand, had speed and subtlety.

In her bending, at least. Outside of that, she seemed way too blunt and hardheaded for Katara’s liking.

“You know we wouldn’t be like that, right?” Aang said eagerly. “Katara and I would be the best students ever. And you would make a really great teacher! I’m even more sure about that now that we saw your best earthbending.”

The Blind Bandit wrinkled her nose. “You really don’t know anything about earthbending, do you? That wasn’t my best. Better than anything the meatheads can do, sure, but I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”

The casual boasting sent a shiver of irritation up Katara’s spine. Why did it feel worse knowing that the Blind Bandit had all the skill she could possibly need to back up that ego?

Aang opened his mouth to respond, but the Blind Bandit cut him off before he could begin. “Let’s get something straight right here and now, shall we? I’m not anybody’s teacher. I’m not going to be anybody’s teacher. You may be shocked to hear this, but I’m still a kid. The only reason my parents haven’t stopped me from doing this is because it’s late enough at night that they’ve never noticed. And I’m not going to risk screwing this up to do a favor for a couple of weirdo kids.”

“We’re not weirdo kids,” Aang protested. “We’re the Avatars!”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” The Blind Bandit threw her arms out to the sides in apparent exasperation. “There’s supposed to be one Avatar. Everyone knows that!”

With a sigh, Katara rubbed her forehead. “And apparently no Avatar before now has gotten stuck in an iceberg. It turns out that the spirits get a little confused when someone doesn’t die the usual way.”

The Blind Bandit pursed her lips, sightless eyes fixed somewhere near her shoulder. Her forehead screwed up for a few seconds before she threw her hands up in the air. “And what? Are you gonna start begging me to teach you too? I’m hearing a lot of enthusiasm from this chucklehead, but I’m not hearing anything from you.”

At first, Katara didn’t want to answer that. To her, the idea of working with this girl sounded exhausting. She seemed spoiled and egotistical, and very, very young. Katara got the impression that if she or Aang ever messed up in a lesson, the Blind Bandit would happily pin them between a bunch of boulders and then wander off, her patience for them spent.

But her bending did seem exceptional. And that, in the end, might matter more than anything else. Katara had already clashed with one bending master and come out the other side of lessons with mastery of her own. Surely she could do the same again if she had to.

“I think that we really need a teacher,” she said evenly. “And none of our other leads have worked out. You’re probably one of the best earthbenders we’ve seen so far, but it’s really hard to know whether you would make a good teacher or not.”

And if you don’t want to help us in the first place, you’ll probably just slow us down.

The Blind Bandit’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly at the corner. “Honesty. I guess I can appreciate that.” She sighed. “Listen, guys. I know the coolness is overwhelming. Every kid in the Earth Kingdom would love to train with me, but I’ve got my own life to deal with.” She turned farther into the dimness of the long hall, away from the arena. “Nice try. I can’t say I’m not intrigued, but becoming an earthbending teacher isn’t in the cards for me.”

Chapter Text

This was a bad idea.

Although Katara had already made her feelings on the matter absolutely clear—the Blind Bandit wasn’t interested in helping them, and they ought to move on and leave her alone—Aang refused to be dissuaded. The Blind Bandit, he insisted, was their best, their only option for an earthbending teacher. The Foggy Swamp had told him so, and the swamp spirits couldn’t possibly be wrong.

Her jaw tightened and twitched. It probably wouldn’t bother her nearly as much if not for the fact that Aang had managed to forget that he wasn’t the only one who’d had visions in the swamp, that if his visions were to be taken literally, then hers and Sokka’s ought to be as well. But Aang was too full of ideas of his own to bother listening to her. In Aang’s mind, the Blind Bandit had to be their earthbending teacher, and that meant that she had to be liberated from—something.

Which meant that they had to march right up to her house and knock on the front gates until someone agreed to let them in. And as much as Katara wanted to stay back at camp and out of the inevitable mess at the Beifong mansion, she found herself tagging along anyway. Aang wouldn’t take no for an answer, Sokka was too amused by the whole idea to even consider staying behind, and if the boys needed someone to drag them out of trouble, it was probably best that she be as near to the trouble as possible.

“Oh my.” The lady of the house, an elegant woman in flowing green robes, circled around Aang, studying him up and down like he was some sort of exotic creature. “The Avatar himself. I never would have dreamed that we would one day have the honor of hosting such an illustrious figure in our own home.” She turned on the spot to face the servant positioned in the corner. “Fetch Toph as quickly as you can. My sweet girl absolutely must meet the Avatar at once!”

Katara barely had time to feel any annoyance at the fact that ‘the Avatar’ still just meant Aang—she needed an earthbending teacher too, so surely her thoughts on their future master ought to matter a little more than they had so far—before the servant bustled to the door and opened it to reveal the Blind Bandit already on the threshold. Her pale, flowing robes had returned, and her hair had been swept back into an immaculate bun, just as it had been the first time they’d seen her. If not for the steely set to her jaw and the confidence in her stride, Katara might have almost thought that the Blind Bandit and Toph were two different people after all.

“Oh, my dearest!” As though Toph couldn’t manage the few steps on her own, her mother swept in to take hold of her shoulders and steered her bodily into the center of the room. “You will be so surprised. See who has come to visit? It’s the Avatar himself, here in Gaoling to find an earthbending master. Can you believe it?”

Nothing even remotely resembling surprise crossed Toph’s face. Either she’d guessed that Aang might be stubborn enough to keep trying to befriend her after the Earth Rumble, or she must have been listening at the door for a while. Katara suspected that it was probably the latter. Why else would Toph have been so close by when her mother called her in?

“I really cannot recommend Master Yu highly enough,” Toph’s father inserted. “When Poppy and I first discovered that our daughter was an earthbender in addition to being blind, we were quite concerned for her. The accidents that might have happened—” He shuddered visibly, then brightened. “But after a great deal of searching, Master Yu kindly agreed to work with her, and there have been no serious incidents since. Not a single broken vase, and not a scratch or a bruise on anyone in the house.”

At almost the same instant, Sokka snorted, Aang and Toph both pulled faces, though Toph’s was more subtle, and Katara felt her eyebrow raise. Thankfully, though, the snort seemed to catch more attention than anything else, and both of Toph’s parents looked toward Sokka.

“Is everything all right, young man?” Poppy asked.

“Uh—yeah. Doing just great. I think I just got a whiff of some perfume I’m not used to.” Sokka made a show of rubbing his nose, but behind his hand, Katara could make out the corner of a barely-suppressed grin.

Toph’s eyebrow twitched, but she succeeded in bringing her expression back under control enough to plaster a fake smile on her lips before stepping toward Aang. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, but the tension was obvious in her tone.

“Wonderful! I should have guessed that my daughter would make friends with the Avatar in no time at all,” her father said, clapping his hands together. “Now, I regret to say that we were not entirely prepared for guests this morning, but if the Avatar would be so kind as to stay for a meal, we would be honored to have him join us.” Then, as soon as Aang nodded, Toph’s father ordered the same servant away to start preparations for a meal worthy of the Avatar—whatever that meant—and offered to give them all a tour of the mansion and its grounds before turning for the door.

Katara turned to follow along with the boys, but just as the adults stepped out of sight, Toph kicked the stone floor, disrupting the tiles just enough to make her and Sokka trip, and grabbed Aang by the earlobe.

“Hey!” Toph hissed. “I thought I told you idiots not to come here.”

“Ow!” Aang pulled himself free and rubbed his ear until it turned red. With a frown, he turned back toward Toph. “I know that’s what you said that night at camp, but then at the Earth Rumble—”

“What? What did I say that made you think I’d changed my mind?”

“You said that you were intrigued! And I just thought that if I could talk to your family, maybe I could convince them that—”

“Idiot!” She yanked his other earlobe. “That is not what I meant. I can’t believe you three were all stupid enough to think it was.”

“Hey,” Sokka protested. “I didn’t think that was what you meant. I’m just here for the entertainment and the food.”

Toph scowled at a spot somewhere near his shoulder. “Well, that’s great. Glad I can entertain you, Sloth Boy. What about you, Miss Other-vatar? What’s your excuse?”

Katara narrowed her eyes. Other-vatar was a new one. Frankly, if being known came with nicknames of that caliber, she would almost prefer that her status as the Avatar remain secret. “I’m here to make sure that these two don’t get into too much trouble,” she hissed back.

“And I can tell that you’re doing such a great job.”

“If you think you can do a better job, you’re welcome to try.”

Aang looked a little shamefaced as he pulled back, rubbing both earlobes. “I really didn’t know that you felt that strongly about it. But I guess if you’re really sure you don’t want to teach us, we could leave, and—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Toph said, grabbing a fistful of his tunic this time. With one stout finger, she jabbed him hard in the sternum. “You came here, and you met my parents. Now, all three of you are going to put on your best manners, eat dinner with them, laugh at their jokes, and if I hear even a hint about what you saw last night, I will bury all three of you under my bedroom floor.”

There was exactly no part of Toph that wanted to be here right now, sitting across the table from the Avatar—or the Avatars—in her own house. It felt too much like two distinct parts of her life were rubbing up against one another and threatening to break the carefully constructed barrier that Toph had worked so hard to build.

But she wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity, and if nothing else, the inane conversation between Mom, Dad, and the weirdos provided a good excuse to learn more about them without actually needing to express any interest herself. There was no way she was going to encourage any of them—Aang in particular—with questions.

“I am astounded that you have traveled so far without finding an adequate earthbending instructor,” Dad said. “Of course, I don’t believe any of them could be a match for our Master Yu, but for a child with—less particular needs than Toph, I would have imagined that almost every city would boast one or two of sufficient quality.”

Or it could have been a good opportunity to learn about the weirdos if Dad could find it in himself to ask anything useful. Why don’t you have another master yet was a boring question. It could only ever have a boring answer. Even if every master they’d tried had kicked them out for incompetence, what was Toph supposed to do with that?

“Well, to be honest, we haven’t really spent much time looking for one until recently,” Katara said. “Aang is still finishing up his waterbending training, so we weren’t in any huge rush. And we thought we knew an earthbending master who could help us out, but when we got there, things had changed, and it turned out that we couldn’t stay.”

Hmm. She was crafty, Toph had to give her that much. There were no detectable signs of dishonesty in her mannerisms—she wasn’t actually lying, but her omissions smoothed over the truth nicely. It would almost be impressive if Toph hadn’t mastered the same art herself to cover up her participation in the Earth Rumble.

“And that was after we wasted a couple of days in Bei Haian with another earthbending master,” Sokka added. “In hindsight, we probably should’ve known that a guy who’d never left the North Pole before would give lousy teacher recommendations.”

Where Katara seemed willing to dance closer to the edge of the truth with careful, delicate wordings, Sokka was more risk averse and blunt. Less adept at lying by omission than Katara, perhaps, but he too seemed to know his own limits and how to stop before he dug himself into a hole too deep. Between the two of them, they could put together a half-decent story.

“Who in the Northern Water Tribe recommended your first earthbending teacher?” Dad asked.

Voice way too eager, Aang jumped in next. “Master Pakku. He’s our—I mean, he’s the main waterbending teacher up there. He’s really good.”

Somehow, Dad didn’t catch the slip-up. “Hmm. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of such a person. Were you acquainted with Chief Atook?”

“Do you mean Chief Arnook? Yeah, we know him too, but not that well. He’s not a waterbender or a teacher or anything, so we didn’t talk to him much.”

Dad deflated almost imperceptibly, like he was disappointed that this bunch of weirdo kids couldn’t help him forge new business connections. Lame. What made him think that the Northern Water Tribe would be any good as a business connection anyway?

“I doubt either of them had spoken much to General Fong before we left the North Pole,” Katara said. “They did what they could, but General Fong just wasn’t the teacher any of us were hoping for.”

“Understatement.” It sounded like Sokka’s mouth was full, and Katara gave him a very distinct kick under the table to get him to swallow before he resumed. “He didn’t even try to teach Aang earthbending.”

“Oh, my,” Mom was either astonished by that Fong person’s negligence or by Sokka’s bad manners—it was hard to guess which by tone alone. But Toph suspected that it was probably the latter. “Master Yu would never be so remiss about his duties. The three of you should really try visiting with him. In fact, I believe Lao planned to meet with Master Yu to discuss Toph’s progress before the end of the week. I’m sure it would be no trouble to put in a good word for the Avatar at the same time.”

“We do appreciate that,” Katara said hastily. “But we sort of stumbled into Master Yu’s academy on our first day in Gaoling. It wasn’t quite what we were looking for.”

“And whyever not?”

Aang piped in with, “He had all the eight-year-olds throwing rocks at me for a trial lesson.”

“He’s a little outside of our budget,” Sokka said at almost the same time.

Dad chuckled, and his chest puffed back out a little. “That’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a bit of negotiation. It would be my honor to assist the Avatar in securing a place at Master Yu’s academy. In fact—” His head turned in Mom’s direction. “If cost is your primary concern, the Beifong family would be honored to assist in sponsoring the Avatar’s lessons.”

Katara seemed to tense up at that, but Aang spoke before she could.

“Excuse me, Mister Beifong, but that’s not really why we’re here. Master Yu is probably great and all, but we were sort of hoping that Toph—”

Sokka wound up to kick him in the shin, but before he got the chance, Toph had already sent a ripple through the stone tiles to hit him in the leg. Hey. What kind of peanut-brained idiot was he to think it was a good idea to bring up his stupid plan in front of Mom and Dad? Sure, he seemed like an overbearing optimist, but that was way too far.

“That—that you could perhaps watch one of Toph’s lessons with Master Yu?” Dad guessed. “I suppose that hadn’t occurred to me. I would have to discuss that with Master Yu as well, so I cannot make promises yet.”

For the first time, Toph couldn’t bite her tongue quite fast enough. “No, Dad. I don’t want anyone watching my lessons.”

“Try not to make rash decisions, dear. Of course we will discuss it with Master Yu first, and if he doesn’t think that it would be detrimental to your progress, then—”

Mom interrupted, flustered by the impoliteness of even slightly raised voices in her dining room. “Lao, my love—perhaps if we knew who the Avatar had planned to work with as a master before coming to Gaoling, we might have a better idea of whether or not Master Yu would suit him.”

“Oh, yes!” Dad leaned back a bit. “Who were you hoping to train with before?”

“King Bumi in Omashu,” Aang said, his voice a little subdued.

“And why weren’t you able to complete your training with him?”

For a few seconds, all three of the weirdo kids were quiet, turning their heads back and forth at one another as though conferring before Sokka spoke up. “Simple. Because of the Fire Nation.”

“And what business does the Fire Nation have with Omashu?” Mom asked.

“They’ve conquered it,” Katara said. Then, sounding genuinely concerned and confused, she added, “It’s really not that far away from here. Haven’t—haven’t you heard about that yet? King Bumi told us that it happened about a month ago.”

This time, it was Mom and Dad’s turn to be speechless. Toph couldn’t blame them. There was a great big engraving of the Earth Kingdom map on the floor of Dad’s office, and she’d spent plenty of time as a little girl crawling on her hands and knees to find the bumps that marked out the cities’ locations. She knew where Omashu was. She knew it was close. A lot closer than the war had ever seemed before.

“Why—no, I don’t believe we have,” Dad said at long last.

By now, she was pretty sure that Mom and Dad both thought she was in bed. Partly because Mom had gone through their usual routine of taking Toph’s hair down and carefully brushing out each and every tangle before tucking her into bed, and partly because now that Toph had snuck back out of her bedroom, the voices filtering out through the parlor door were not the sort that Mom and Dad usually used around her.

“We have to do something, Poppy.” By the pattern of vibrations carrying through the floor, Toph could tell that he was pacing, and probably had been for some time. “If the Fire Nation has made it as far as Omashu, it’s only a matter of time before they reach Gaoling. We’re sitting ducks if we stay here.”

“How do we know that the Avatar is telling the truth? There hasn’t been any news from Omashu.”

“There wouldn’t be. Why would the Fire Nation let news get out once they’ve taken over the city? Omashu is a foothold. If they can attack from there, they can hit any one of a dozen cities within a week. They just have to make sure no one sees it coming.”

Toph sat beside the door with her knees pulled to her chest and her bare feet planted firmly on the cold stone tiles. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it one bit. Mom and Dad sounded scared—and not the same kind of scared as when Toph dared to walk across the garden alone and happened to get a scratch from a bush. This was real fear. Like they were worried that the entire world was about to start on fire or something.

She let her chin come down to rest on her knees. That was why the Avatars were in such a hurry, wasn’t it? On its own, finding a teacher didn’t sound that urgent—learning a whole element took time, and in comparison, a few weeks looking for a master was trivial. But if the war was picking up speed, if the Fire Nation was trying to take over more places, more people than they had before, then maybe they didn’t have time to waste. Maybe what Katara and Aang really wanted was bigger than that.

Maybe they wanted to actually end the fighting after a hundred years. Maybe they thought that Toph could somehow help with that.

Well, if that was the case, they were probably looking in the wrong place. Toph was the greatest earthbender in Gaoling. She was also willing to bet that that made her the best earthbender in the whole world. And she would do well in a fight—she proved that week after week when she took down all the other Earth Rumble participants in one match after another. But she wasn’t a teacher. She was twelve. And her real earthbending teachers hadn’t even been teachers in the traditional sense. How was she supposed to pass on what she knew about earthbending when she’d learned everything she knew from snuffling, grunting badgermoles in the hills behind the garden?

“I could send a caravan to Omashu,” Dad continued. “If the Fire Nation has taken over, there should be signs to see from the outside, and as long as my men keep their distance, they could be back with news in a few days’ time.”

“Oh no, Lao. We don’t have that much time. If the Avatar is right and the Fire Nation has been in Omashu for a month—”

Dad’s pacing stopped, and he reached out, hands rubbing up and down Mom’s arms. “I know. We can’t wait that long.”

Mom leaned into his arms. Gross.

“It’s clear what needs to be done,” Dad continued. He took a deep breath like he needed to steady himself. “The staff can pack the essentials in a day. The carriage is always ready, and I’m sure it won’t take long to hire a few good men to guard you two along the way.”

“What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying that you and Toph need to go on ahead of me.”

Toph straightened so fast that she almost thumped her head back against the wall. What? She’d sort of anticipated the possibility that Mom and Dad might get worked up hearing that the fighting was getting closer, but things didn’t tend to happen that quickly where Mom and Dad were involved. Definitely not within a few days.

“I still have business to attend to here in Gaoling. Someone needs to be here when news from Omashu comes back, if nothing else. But there’s no reason for you and Toph to still be here with danger so close. In two days’ time, you’ll set off for Ba Sing Se. You should both be safe there until I can join you.”

In the silence that followed, Toph could feel Mom beginning to cry and Dad holding her tight. She felt the vibrations as their breaths grew shaky and as they both leaned into each other. But she didn’t care. They wanted to take her away from Gaoling? Just because the Fire Nation was close enough to attack someday? That was ridiculous.

Going to Ba Sing Se would ruin everything. Going to Ba Sing Se would mean no more Earth Rumbles and no more escaping into the badgermole tunnels behind the house. No more being known as the best earthbender in Gaoling, and no more opportunities to practice or prove her prowess. For all she knew, even the babyish earthbending lessons she’d been allowed might come to an end. It had taken ages before Mom and Dad had found Master Yu, and now that Toph had enough control over her bending to keep from breaking things around the house, it was hard to know whether they’d ever bother taking the same trouble again.

At least here in Gaoling, the protective box that Mom and Dad had built up around her came with weaknesses and cracks that she could squeeze through. In Ba Sing Se, they would just build up a new box with none of the old gaps for Toph to exploit.

A rush of adrenaline struck her, and Toph stood. She couldn’t take this lying down. Her whole life was here, and she wouldn’t just walk away, no matter what Mom and Dad thought.

Shoulders squared, she marched right up to the parlor door and pushed it open.

With a gasp, Mom seemed to notice her and pulled back from Dad’s arms. “Toph! Sweetheart, what are you doing up? You should be in bed.”

Toph’s fingernails bit deep into her palms. It would probably be wisest to remain calm, to keep a level head so that she could bargain for at least some scraps of her freedom, but her emotions were running a bit too high for diplomacy. “What are you two talking about?” she demanded. “What’s going on here?”

Dad gave a small, dry laugh and approached to rest a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing going on. Go back to bed, Toph. We can talk in the morning.”

“No.” She pulled back from Dad’s grasp and felt surprise in his pulse and his posture. “No, it can’t wait until morning. Are you really planning to send me away from home?”

For a moment, they were both quiet before Mom stepped forward to join Dad. “No one is sending you away, love. We’re going to go to Ba Sing Se together. Doesn’t that sound nice? We can have some lovely mother-daughter time together and take our time getting everything settled before your father comes to join us.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” Toph shot back. She could feel just the smallest prickle around the rims of her eyes, but she refused to cry over this. She wasn’t a delicate little baby. That was the whole point. If she cried now, that would only convince Mom and Dad that she needed more protection. “I like living here in Gaoling. And I have my earthbending lessons, and—”

“And I’m certain that we can find another master in Ba Sing Se,” Mom said soothingly. “It’s the biggest city in the world. I’m certain there are options there.”

“Are there?” Toph demanded. “And how long is that going to take? Months? Years? I remember how long it took before you decided that I was finally strong enough to train with Master Yu without breaking myself in half. Am I supposed to start all over again and be happy that everyone is treating me like a baby?”

“Toph.” Dad’s voice was firmer. “You’re blind, and that makes you vulnerable. Of course we will always need to take precautions where you are concerned. Sometimes that requires a little extra patience.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Just forget about my earthbending?”

“I’m sure we can find plenty of lovely ways to fill our time.” Mom reached out a hand, but Toph took a step back into the hall before there could be any contact.

“It isn’t as though you’re learning to fight,” Dad added. “It seems that your control has already improved greatly. I don’t imagine that a few months’ time could do much to diminish that.”

Not learning to fight.

Usually, comments like that didn’t bother her. But usually, keeping Mom and Dad in the dark worked to her advantage. Usually, the mere fact that they thought fighting was impossible for Toph was enough to keep them from poking around too much and learning her secret. But this time was different.

This time, it hurt.

“I’m not helpless, Dad. And I’m not stupid either. I know how much Master Yu isn’t allowed to teach me. I know because I learned most of it without his help. I’m actually really good at earthbending. I’ll even show you! If we just go outside—”

“Toph.” Dad’s voice was sharper this time. Colder too. He marched out into the hall and grabbed her by the elbow. “It is time to go to bed. If you have anything reasonable to discuss, it can wait until tomorrow.”

Though Toph could have easily pulled away, though she could have shown Dad just how strong an earthbender she really was right there in the middle of the hall, his grip on her arm rendered her wordless.

He was really doing this. He really meant it.

The prickling around her eyes intensified, and her throat went tight. I’ll even show you. Who was she trying to kid with that? Dad didn’t know what a good earthbending fighter looked like. He’d never been to an Earth Rumble in his life, and even if Toph were to show him all her most difficult moves, he wouldn’t know the difference. Short of spontaneously pulling a dozen flawlessly sculpted statues from the ground and placing them around the garden, she had no idea what could impress Dad.

Even that would never work, a small voice in her head whispered. Just face it. Dad’s idea of a good earthbender is one who doesn’t break things around the house. He’d probably be happier if you weren’t an earthbender at all.

Dad only released her arm once she was back in her own room, standing motionless in the space between the door and her bed. “Good night, Toph,” he said coldly as he turned away. “I hope you’ll be in a more rational mood tomorrow.”

With that, the door thumped shut behind him, and Toph clenched her fists even tighter in a vain hope that the sharpness of her nails digging into her palms might distract her enough to keep any tears from falling. How did Dad expect her to be ‘rational’ in the morning when he wouldn’t even listen to her? Didn’t a rational conversation take two?

Slowly, she breathed through the prickling in her eyes and the tightness in her throat until at last, everything began to calm again. She couldn’t go to Ba Sing Se. That much had been obvious from the beginning, and now that Dad was upset with her, it was even clearer than before. Ba Sing Se would be a prison. And sure, Toph could probably find a gap in the bars of that prison eventually, but it would probably take years. The last thing she wanted was to waste years of her life trying to scrape out a fraction of the freedom she’d already known here in Gaoling.

Another slow exhale. Ideally, she would prefer to stay here in Gaoling. Mom and Dad would never agree to it now that they’d gotten it into their heads that the Fire Nation was bound to attack any day, but maybe she didn’t need their help or their approval. She could more than pay for her own expenses by continuing to fight in the Earth Rumble as long as she could find someplace to live where Mom and Dad wouldn’t be able to find her.

But that, unfortunately, seemed impossible. Master Yu wouldn’t help her, the Earth Rumble participants wouldn’t help her—even Xin Fu, the Earth Rumble manager, would probably bend over backward the second he heard Lao Beifong’s name. And no one else even knew Toph existed. Unless she could crawl deep enough into the badgermole tunnels to go completely undetected, it would be just a matter of time before someone hauled her out and sent her off to Ba Sing Se anyway.

Toph bit her lip. Of course, she still had one other option. There would be no more Earth Rumbles, but she could train as much as she liked. There would be no more badgermole tunnels, but she would probably be out in the open all day every day. And she would have to spend way too much time with some seriously annoying kids, but there would be no more parents and no more rules.

After all, the Avatars had caused all this mess by telling Mom and Dad about Omashu. Didn’t they owe it to her to fix the problems they’d caused?

By the time that Mom knocked on her door to say a second goodnight a few minutes later, Toph’s mind was made up. Ignoring the knock, she made hasty stacks of all her useful belongings—her Earth Rumble clothes, a few sturdy blankets, a water flask that she usually took on her late-night excursions out of the house, and all her Earth Rumble winnings. Vaguely, she was aware of Mom saying something so quiet that her words couldn’t quite carry through the door before walking away, but still, Toph kept on moving. The packages of dried moon peach slices and roasted peanuts that she’d smuggled out of the Earth Rumble went into the pile, as did her big, bulky winter cloak and a little knife that Mom used to open letters. A little haphazardly, Toph stuffed the whole mess into a travel bag.

Only then, after all her things were packed, did Toph feel a small wave of doubt. She wasn’t changing her mind—no, she refused to do that. But the idea of leaving without a word had begun to bother her a little.

After a few moments’ thought, Toph dug her championship belt out from its hiding place under the floor tiles and draped it carefully over her bed. There. Mom and Dad might not recognize the belt at first glance, but it was an unmistakable sign. All they had to do was ask around town and they would get the message loud and clear—Toph was the world’s greatest earthbender, and she refused to live in their protective little box anymore.

“What do you guys think about Ba Sing Se?”

Katara rolled her head just far enough to the side to find Sokka still lounging by the campfire with the map. “I think we’ve never been there before, and it’s too late at night to try to figure out much else about it.”

Aang, unfortunately, seemed just as alert as Sokka, and he sat bolt upright on Appa’s tail. “Why? What could you possibly want to know about Ba Sing Se right now?”

Sokka raised an eyebrow at Aang. “Defensive much? What, did you let all their turkey ducks loose as a kid or something?”

“I—no. I haven’t gotten in trouble everywhere I’ve gone, Sokka.” He made a transparent effort at appearing nonchalant and reclined back into Appa’s fur again. “I just don’t think we need to worry about a city all the way on the other side of the Earth Kingdom right now, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should be considering our options,” Sokka said, leaning over the map again. “Bei Haian was a bust, Omashu is down, and Gaoling probably isn’t going to work out either. Not if Toph doesn’t want to teach you guys and Master Yu is the only other option.”

“But Gaoling has to work out,” Aang protested, sitting back up again. Momo, curled up in his lap, let out a displeased screech at all the movement and scampered across the clearing to Katara’s tent. “Toph is definitely the girl from my swamp vision, and she’s easily the best earthbender we’ve met since Bumi. Who else could possibly be a better teacher?”

With a sigh, Katara sat up. Apparently this was just going to be one of those nights when they wouldn’t get much sleep. “Aang, you do realize that she was only about the second earthbender we met since leaving Omashu, right? I know she’s good, but we haven’t been looking for that long.”

Aang shook his head stubbornly. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve never met another bender like her in my life.”

She shot a look at Sokka, who just shrugged before turning to the map again. “Sometimes no just means no, buddy. If she doesn’t want to come with us, we’re not going to kidnap her or anything.”

“Well, she wouldn’t have to come with us anywhere if we could stay here in Gaoling and let her teach us here.”

At that Sokka shook his head. “Not your best plan. If we’re gonna stay in one place, we’ll need someplace super well-guarded. If we stick around Gaoling too long, the Fire Nation is going to find out, and then the city will get overrun.” He rubbed his forehead. “And at least according to this old thing, Ba Sing Se might be the only place where we can risk settling down for more than a week or so.”

“That’s a huge city, isn’t it?” Katara asked. “I’m sure there are tons of masters there.”

A shrug. “Probably. The problem is that Ba Sing Se is a long way from here.” He let the map roll back up and dropped it on the ground beside him. “The way I see it, we’ve got two choices. Either we find a master who’s willing to train you two on the move so that we can stay ahead of the Fire Nation, or we hide out in Ba Sing Se until you two are master rockheads.”

“I’d like the first option a lot better,” Katara said, almost under her breath.

“Yeah, you would.” Sokka picked up a pebble and hurled it her way. “I bet you’re gonna be even more annoying about it when we actually find him, aren’t you?”

She picked up another pebble and tossed it back at him. “I’m not being annoying about it now, you jerk.”

From somewhere in the bushes behind her, there was a slight snap, and Katara turned her head in its direction, but not before Aang had already leapt to his feet. And then, almost before her eyes could fully focus on the figure emerging from the trees, Aang was already darting past her.

“Toph? You’re here? I thought we weren’t going to see you until at least tomorrow or something. This is great! I was just telling the others that I thought—”

Before he could throw his arms around her, Toph raised a column of stone in his path so that he thumped chest-first into it and hugged the pillar instead. “Yikes, I get it. I would be excited to see me too.” She lowered the column back into the ground and casually sidestepped past him and into the middle of camp.

There was a pack on her back. That was the first thing that Katara noticed. A pack on her back, no shoes on her feet, and she was dressed in what looked like the same clothes that she’d worn in the Earth Rumble.

Katara shot a look at Sokka, who looked back, eyes just as wide as hers felt. What? Had Aang’s swamp vision actually been prophetic?

“Um—” she began, then shook her head to clear her thoughts a little. “Not to steal Aang’s question or anything, but what are you doing out here this late?”

Toph laughed, a little too loud, a little too sharp. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m fulfilling my destiny or some shit like that.” She turned to face roughly in the direction of both Katara and Aang. “You two clowns still need an earthbending master, right? Well, you’re just not going to find one who’s better than me.”

True though that might be, Katara didn’t like or trust Toph’s mannerisms. Something about this was wrong.

She climbed out of her sleeping bag and gave her most polite nod in Toph’s direction. “So—you talked this over with your parents, right? Because I think we all got the impression that they weren’t crazy about the idea of you teaching us.”

Toph’s tone was only a fraction more convincing this time. “What can I say? An Earth Rumble championship belt is very persuasive.”

Katara could feel Sokka glancing her way, and she grimaced back at him before he finally shrugged.

“Well—then I guess that’s one problem solved,” he said. “Pull up a piece of dirt and make yourself comfy for the night. I’d offer you a tent, but we don’t have a spare, and I don’t think it’s going to rain tonight.”

Toph’s hands tightened visibly around the straps of her pack. “Actually, that’s not going to work for me.”

Again, Katara exchanged a skeptical look with Sokka.

“I heard you guys talking when I was walking up. You’re planning to keep moving around every few days, right?”

Slowly, Katara nodded. “I guess we are now.”

“Great! Because I think your earthbending lessons need to start first thing tomorrow morning. And if you’re gonna get a real earthbending lesson, you’re gonna need a lot more rocks than this.” She marched the rest of the way across the clearing to Appa. “Which means that all of you chuckleheads are gonna have to relocate now if you want to get any sleep tonight.”

Chapter Text

For all that Katara had her doubts—rightfully so, she thought—Toph had at least kept her word about starting their earthbending lessons first thing in the morning. A little too early for Katara’s taste, especially after being forced to pack up and relocate camp farther into the mountains last night, but it wasn’t her first time attending an early morning bending lesson. She could deal with it for one day. Surely Toph would adapt to a more reasonable schedule eventually.

“Alright, straighten up, Air Head. I need to figure out how much earthbending you two know before we can get this training thing started, and it would help if you were both upright.”

Aang jerked to attention, then raised his hand as though waiting for Toph to call on him.

Toph paused, and one eyebrow lifted a fraction. “What are you doing now?”

Aang put his hand back down. “Oh! Um—I just wanted to say that I actually don’t know any earthbending yet. I don’t think I’ve ever moved a rock without being in the Avatar State.”

“Okay. More work for me, I guess. And what about you, Miss Fuss-Pants?”

Oh, this was going to be tiresome. “Are you ever going to use our names, or am I supposed to start answering to ‘Fuss-Pants’?”

Toph shrugged. “Names are probably a no. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable with any one nickname quite yet. I’m still workshopping those.”

When Katara rolled her eyes, Toph thumped a heel against the ground to raise a short pillar of stone a few inches beneath Katara’s foot, just enough to disrupt her balance.

“Earthbending. How much do you know?”

With a small grunt and a scowl, Katara straightened again. “I had one lesson in Bei Haian with a soldier who wasn’t a master. I learned enough to—”

“So you’re both starting from scratch, then,” Toph interrupted. “Fine by me. Bending stances, chuckleheads! Let’s go, we don’t have all day!”

Though it took everything she had to keep from grinding her teeth, Katara obeyed. Maybe Toph wouldn’t listen to her, but her bending could speak for itself. She was a novice, but she wasn’t wholly incompetent. She’d done enough experimenting since they’d left Bei Haian to feel relatively confident in her ability to pick up new forms quickly.

And for the most part, Katara’s resolve seemed to pay off. Her movements were imprecise and lacked force, but with some adjustments and two or three tries, she was able to mimic each of the forms that Toph demonstrated. It was like bending ice, but without the luxury of being able to melt everything down into tendrils and waves. It felt cumbersome and stiff, but not completely foreign.

If Toph was pleased—or at least satisfied—with Katara’s progress, though, it was very difficult to tell. Because while Katara could, with some effort and experimentation, at least get the rocks to move in the right direction, Aang couldn’t seem to move so much as a grain of sand. Every move that involved kicking or stomping had Aang shying away like he was afraid of stepping on something sharp, and the ones that focused more on arm movements alternated between kicking up small, accidental swirls of wind, and being completely ineffectual.

Toph planted her hands on her hips. “Are you knuckleheads sure you’re both the Avatar? The last time I checked, the four elements included earth.”

“I—yeah, I’m the Avatar,” Aang insisted, but a thread of uncertainty had found its way into his voice. He looked down at his hands as though there might be some hidden message, some sign written across them. “I’ve gone into the Avatar State a bunch of times. And I’ve been to the Spirit World and talked to Avatar Roku. I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong now.”

“You’ve gotta put some muscle into it,” Toph said, shoving his shoulder. Though it didn’t appear that she’d put much force into the shove, Aang almost tipped sideways. “Try it one more time. Just you. Get that rock to move!” She dropped back into her own stance and sent a much larger stone sailing across the gorge

Again, though Aang mimicked her motions, the rock didn’t respond.

Toph shook her head. “Okay, you know what? I was wrong. I’m wasting my time trying to pretend that the two of you are on the same page. You go sit down and play with some pebbles or something. For now, I need to focus on the Avatar who actually gets how earthbending is supposed to work.”

Zuko was out of water.

For at least the third time in as many minutes, he reached for the canteen hanging at the side of the saddle, regretted it when the twisting motion sent a jolt of pain through his ribs, then regretted it all over again when he remembered that the canteen was still empty.

Shit. All things considered, his other provisions were holding out well enough—since he spent most of his time either resting or riding, he only needed to eat enough to keep himself from getting lightheaded—but the farther east he traveled, the more arid the land seemed to grow. He hadn’t seen a stream to refill his water in more than a day, and there was no sign that that was likely to change anytime soon.

There was, however, a small, run-down looking village at the bottom of the valley up ahead. And a village had to mean water.

Shit.

He’d been getting complacent recently, resting whenever the ache in his ribs grew strong enough to make him nauseous, and traveling in bursts when the ache was more bearable, mostly during the day when the sunlight was there to provide a small additional trickle of energy. His pace had slackened, and although he’d yet to see any wanted posters bearing his face in the villages he’d passed, he was almost positive that by now, someone had to have seen and recognized him.

Logically, that meant that his head start was probably shrinking. Logically, that meant that showing his face, even in a shabby-looking village, was the last thing he should be doing right now.

But right now, he needed water. And unless the vast, seemingly unbroken expanses of rolling grassland were somehow hiding streams and rivers from view, a village with a well was probably his best, his only choice.

Keeping his head down as much as possible, Zuko rode until he found a small cluster of gnarled and wind-beaten trees at the edge of the village before he dismounted, tied the reins to a branch, and gave the mongoose lizard a pat on the neck. It wasn’t much, and it probably wouldn’t save him from being recognized if wanted posters had made it this far east, but keeping the mongoose lizard out of sight couldn’t hurt. At least on his own, with his head down and his face partially shielded by his hat, people might not look his way.

With the canteen from Azula’s supplies strapped across his chest and the spare from the pawnbroker hanging at his hip, he took a deep breath and ventured into the village.

It was quiet. For a while, that was all he could really tell about the place. With his head down and his eyes fixed on the ruts in the hard-packed earthen streets, he didn’t have much chance to see the village around him, but he could catch the occasional shapes of ostrich horses tied up along the front of buildings long the way and hear the occasional footstep or muffled voice. There was no commotion at the sight of a newcomer, though, no prickling at the back of his neck to indicate that anyone was looking at him any closer than could be expected. It was just quiet. Enough so that by the time he found his way to a water pump in the middle of town, he’d managed to relax a little.

He'd found water. He wasn’t going to die of thirst, and if the level of interest he’d attracted so far was any indication, he might not even have to worry about word making it back to Azula. He might have been worried for nothing.

Operating the water pump proved a bit more difficult, but Zuko managed to fill his first canteen before he needed a break from the twisting motion. He paused long enough to drink his fill from the canteen and was just turning back to top it back off before filling the second when a great deal of shouting broke out on the far side of the square.

Heart leaping up into his throat, Zuko put his head down and poured all his focus into the water pump. Whatever that was, he wasn’t going to get involved. It didn’t concern him. From the sound of it, there were just some locals fighting, and the last thing he needed was to go around sticking his nose into other people’s business. He just had to keep his head down, finish filling his canteens, and get back to his mongoose lizard. Everything would be fine. Everything would be—

A smaller, higher-pitched shout broke through the commotion, and Zuko’s instincts got the better of him. He whipped back toward the sound, his second, half-filled canteen nearly slipping from his hand at the suddenness of the motion.

A kid. Zuko’s pulse rose, and his hands tightened. The boy couldn’t be more than ten years old, yet he was encircled by three Earth Kingdom soldiers, one of whom had the boy by the arm, holding him so that his feet barely reached the ground.

“Let me go!” the boy shouted. “I didn’t steal nothing!”

“Little bastard.” The soldier tossed the boy carelessly forward so that he skidded on his palms in an effort to catch himself. “You think you’re real smart, don’t you? We saw you sneaking around.”

“Isn’t this the kid from the hog farm?” one of the other soldiers asked.

“Does it matter?” The first man took a menacing step forward. “He was trying to get his hands on our papers. Official Earth Kingdom military orders. Now what on earth would a scrawny little kid want with those, hmm?”

As the three soldiers closed in around the kid again, dread flooded Zuko from head to toe. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to get involved. He wasn’t supposed to draw attention to himself, no matter what else might happen around him. He couldn’t afford the risk right now.

“Leave the kid alone,” Zuko shouted, his voice bursting out against his will.

All three of the soldiers looked his way, and the one in the center, presumably their leader, curled his upper lip into a sneer. “And why should I do that?”

Shit. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have filled his canteens and returned to the mongoose lizard and trusted that these men wouldn’t do anything worse than frighten the little boy. They were all Earth Kingdom, after all. The soldiers had to be here to protect the town.

But he’d spoken up now, and when the little boy shot a frightened glance back at him, Zuko couldn’t stop himself. He straightened and tried his best not to notice how much larger the three soldiers were than him. “Because only cowards need to pick fights with children.”

That, unsurprisingly, was the wrong thing to say to keep himself out of trouble. The man who Zuko had to assume was the leader seemed to forget the boy momentarily, stepping around him to advance on Zuko instead. “And only a traitor would call the soldiers protecting his own nation cowards. Is that what’s happening here? Are you a traitor, boy?”

Zuko’s already-dry mouth seemed to turn to sand. How was he supposed to answer that? He was a traitor, technically, just not to the Earth Kingdom. But admitting as much, revealing himself as a traitorous firebender, could only end badly. He had enough trouble without launching himself headfirst into that mess.

So he just stared back at the man, fighting to hold his gaze steady. It didn’t take long for the little boy to realize that Zuko was providing a more than adequate distraction, and when he slipped out from behind the soldiers and disappeared down a nearby alley, it took all his will to keep from releasing an enormous sigh of relief. The kid had escaped. That was enough to make all of the trouble and attention worthwhile, right? It was the first useful thing Zuko had been able to do in days, and though he was still tired and achy and aimless, it made his shoulders feel just a bit lighter.

Slowly, holding his expression as still as possible, Zuko turned back toward the pump again. He had neither the strength nor the energy to even attempt to fight, and with the kid having vanished from view, it was probably safe enough to just put his head down and go back to minding his own business. These soldiers were undoubtedly bullies, but with any luck, they might turn out to be the sort who would give up if only he ignored them for long enough. After all, Zuko was an outsider. So long as they hadn’t seen his face on any wanted posters yet—and they probably would have said something if they had—Zuko would be out of their hair long before he could cause any more trouble.

But then, just when he was reaching for the pump again, ready to fill both canteens and retreat back to his mongoose lizard, the nearest soldier reached around to slap both canteens from his hands.

“Meddling little weasel snake,” the soldier snarled, bringing his heel down with a sickening, hollow crack atop one canteen, then the other. “Get your nose out of our business, or we’ll remove it for you.” Then, twisting his foot until the second canteen splintered clear down the side, he turned away again.

All at once, Zuko’s insides went cold, and he forgot how to breathe.

No.

He could hear the shouting as the soldiers realized that the boy had disappeared and spread out to search, but through all the noise, Zuko remained entirely still, entirely numb. Drop by drop, he watched as the water he’d come here for leaked out into the dusty, dry soil.

No.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything.

He was going to die out here.

“What do you mean I have to cook now?” Sokka threw himself back against the log he’d been using as a backrest, arms splayed out in what had to be the most dramatic pose he could possibly manage. “This is unjust, Katara!”

Scowling, she stretched around the campfire to jab him with the stick she’d been using to stir the fire. “I mean that the rest of us have two bending lessons to worry about every day. If you still want hot meals every now and then, you’re going to have to do some cooking while the rest of us are busy.”

With a yelp, he scrunched himself back up and smacked the stick away. “Ugh, fine. But if you think that I’m gonna—” He cut himself off midsentence, then looked from Katara to Aang to Toph and back again. “Wait, hold up. You’re teaching Aang waterbending. You’re both learning earthbending from Toph. So what’s Toph’s second thing? And please don’t tell me we’ve got another Avatar on our hands, or I’m going to lose it.”

Toph scoffed. “You wish. I don’t think the world is ready for that much power in one person.” She reclined back on her elbows and crossed one foot over the other. “Nah, it turns out that one of your Avatars can at least move rocks badly, and the other can’t earthbend at all. Doesn’t make a lot of sense to try teaching them both the same things when they’re at two different stages.”

“I see. So what you’re saying is that I can get a break from cooking duty when Aang catches up with his earthbending, or—when Aang finishes mastering waterbending. Huh.” Sokka shot a look at Aang. “Well, buddy, if you think my cooking sucks, you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Aang slumped down a little, and Katara shot him a sympathetic look. Sure, he made for a relatively lackluster student thanks to his tendency to let his mind wander, but at least in the case of his earthbending, it seemed that he was really trying. And Toph’s teaching style—if the shouting could be called a teaching style—was a lot to adjust to, especially one-on-one.

Still, Aang couldn’t earthbend. As rough as those one-on-one lessons were bound to be at the start, there didn’t seem to be any good alternatives.

She checked the simmering pot before sitting back again and fixing Sokka with a look. “Now that we’ve found an earthbending master, I think we need to start planning where we go a little more carefully too. We shouldn’t go too far from Omashu for a while yet.”

Sokka groaned and rolled his head all the way back, but then straightened up again and nodded. “Yeah, fine. Guess we might as well.”

Toph pushed herself back up on her hands. “Um—what’s this about not going too far from Omashu?”

Katara felt an eyebrow shoot upward. There was an edge to Toph’s voice that she couldn’t recall hearing before, high and sharp and tense. Like there was something wrong with staying in the area. Like there was something wrong with the area itself.

Or, she guessed, like there was something wrong with staying near Gaoling. She hadn’t forgotten the way that Toph had barged into camp and demanded that they relocate in the middle of the night. If Toph thought that Omashu and Gaoling were too close together, it might very well be her own home that she had an issue with.

“Oh!” Sokka leaned forward, resting one elbow on his knee. “That’s right, you’re new. So—I assume you’ve thought about this before, but this whole Avatar business involves all four elements. Not just the three fun—or, you know, sort of fun ones.”

Toph’s expression remained stony. “I’m aware of what the Avatar is.”

“Good. So, uh—how are you gonna feel about working with a firebender? Or—probably two firebenders.”

“I’m also aware that these two chuckleheads are going to learn firebending eventually.”

“Right,” Sokka said, dragging the word out. “But I meant some other firebenders. Like—teachers for these two.”

“Oh.” The shift in her expression was almost imperceptibly slight, but Toph’s mouth pulled toward a frown. To Katara’s eyes at least, it seemed that she hadn’t considered the prospect of working with firebenders before. And when she eventually continued, that impression didn’t change. “Isn’t there some order to the elements or something? Why bother with firebending teachers when they’re just starting on earth?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Sokka said. “There’s not an overabundance of friendly firebenders to choose from. But we did meet a couple of them a few months back, and we had this whole plan to meet up with them in Omashu, and—basically, if we don’t find these guys soon, we might not find them at all, and then the firebending master thing will turn into the world’s biggest headache.”

“And they’re our friends,” Katara inserted, staring at him, one eyebrow raised. “We’re not leaving our friends behind.”

He made a face at her, but didn’t argue. Which seemed like a step in the right direction, anyway. Sokka could pretend to dislike Zuko all he wanted as long as he didn’t try to cut their search short.

Toph still looked uncertain, but she made an obvious effort to push her voice into flippancy. “Does that at least mean that this guy is cool?”

“I’m gonna level with you, Toph,” Sokka answered. “I don’t think he even knows the meaning of that word.”

Katara jabbed him with the stick again. “Sokka!”

He squirmed out of reach of the stick again. “What? Come on, Katara. I’m pretty sure Momo has better social skills than Zuko.”

“And I’m pretty sure that the two of you would have gotten along a lot better if you could at least pretend to have better manners than Momo.”

Again, Sokka made a face but said nothing. Immature jerk. At this point, it was becoming clear that he was trying to be obnoxious. Rolling her eyes, she turned back toward Toph. “Zuko is a good person, if that’s what you mean. And his uncle is pretty nice too. I don’t know if that means that you’ll make friends with them, but—”

But frankly, Katara was still having some difficulty imagining herself befriending Toph. She was spoiled and unpleasantly blunt, and beneath all of that, there was something that just seemed—untrustworthy. The way she had brushed off her parents’ decision to let her leave only to insist moments later that they had to leave camp in the middle of the night, her resistance to staying near Omashu, and the slight strangeness in her tone and expression around the mention of bringing in firebenders—all of it seemed to paint a picture that Katara couldn’t quite make out yet. But she wasn’t sure she liked it. And she wasn’t sure how much she could even like Toph with those doubts roiling under the surface.

Toph shrugged, reclining again. “Guess that’ll have to be good enough, then. Sure. I think I can deal with a lame old firebender.” Then, quieter, she added, “The sooner we get it over with, the better.”

“Hey, Mister!”

Zuko didn’t so much as turn his head. He wasn’t far from his mongoose lizard now, and with no way to carry any water on his journey anymore, all he could think about was getting back to the beast. The pain in his ribs was worse than it had been in some time, and if he couldn’t find someplace to rest soon, he would probably be sick.

Even if he could find someplace to rest, he would probably still be sick. He was going to die. One way or another, he would end up too far from fresh water, and without the stamina to push through the dehydration to find the next stream along the way, he would eventually just—stop.

Fuck.

He’d known from the start that his chances running away from Azula weren’t good, but this just didn’t seem fair. If he had to die, why did it have to be like this? Alone and hopeless and pointless?

“Mister!” A set of small footsteps jogged up beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Zuko recognized the scrawny kid from town. “Hey, how come you stood up to the soldiers like that?”

Numb, Zuko shook his head. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to speak at all, but the kid had been not-so-subtly following him ever since he’d left the soldiers’ line of sight. If he didn’t answer, the kid would probably just get louder and more insistent.

“I don’t know.”

“‘Cause that was pretty brave,” the kid continued, apparently unbothered by Zuko’s despondence. “I want to stand up to them like that, but I don’t really know how to fight and I’m not tall enough to scare ‘em anyway.”

Zuko had to swallow, and he ran a thumb over the beads still hanging from his wrist. Agni, he missed—everything. And everyone too. If he could just see Uncle or Katara—or even Sokka or Aang—one more time, then maybe this wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so small and powerless out here on his own.

“Don’t,” he rasped, only half speaking to the little boy. “Just—don’t pick fights that you can’t win.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to fight ‘em.” The kid kicked a pebble, matching Zuko’s pace now that they were farther from the town square. “I just thought some of their papers might say where my brother went. We ain’t heard anything from him since the recruiters took him away.”

Though Zuko didn’t want to listen, though he didn’t particularly care what was going on with the kid’s family after he’d been thrust into the position of inevitably losing his own, Zuko finally gave in and finally shot a glance at the kid. “Don’t pick fights with soldiers,” he repeated. “Believe me. They’re trained to hurt people a lot bigger and stronger than you are.”

“Yeah, but you did it.”

Zuko let out a bitter scoff. “And they smashed the only canteens I own so now I can’t carry any water with me. I don’t think I’m the winner here.”

The boy went quiet as they drew closer to where the mongoose lizard was tethered, and after Zuko untied the beast and slowly, painfully hoisted himself up into the saddle, the boy made an impressive leap into the air to snatch the reins out of his hands.

“We got a bunch of canteens at my house. C’mon. I bet my mom and dad will let you take a couple for standing up to the soldiers like that.”

Chapter Text

Don’t be a burden. If these people knew who you are, they would never help you.

Though the voices in the back of Zuko’s mind wouldn’t relent, he said very little to dissuade the boy from taking him back home to his parents. Very little at all, really. So maybe it wasn’t his fault. He was tired and aching, and not entirely clearheaded after the shock of seeing his only two canteens crushed under the heel of an Earth Kingdom soldier. He was hardly in a position to make any convincing arguments when just forming words seemed like such a daunting task.

But another, quieter part of him, buried beneath all the exhaustion and pain, knew that that wasn’t all of it. He was scared too. And lonely. And even though all his instincts told him that following the boy, allowing himself to get more involved with anyone along his journey could only end badly, the prospect of riding off alone was too daunting.

He wouldn’t stay long, he told himself. Just long enough to collect a spare canteen from the family—to buy one from them, if necessary—then he would be off again, riding eastward and doing his best not to stray too far from the water once he found it again. He wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t cause problems. He would listen to that voice in his head, just not quite yet.

In the meanwhile, Zuko sat mostly silent in his saddle, head down and only half-listening to the boy’s chatter. At the very least, they were moving slowly now that the boy was leading the mongoose lizard, and the slower pace put a little less pressure on his ribs than either walking or riding at his normal rate would. Enough so that by the time that they drew near a small, dusty-looking farm, Zuko’s head had begun to clear a little.

“And that’s Shen and Long and Luo,” the boy said, pointing to each of the moosows trying to wedge their heads through the slats in the fence to reach the scraggly greenery on the other side. “Sensu named most of them, but now that he’s gone with the army, I’m gonna have to name the next batch of babies. Dad says they grow up bigger and stronger when we name them ‘cause them we treat them like family. But I don’t know that many names, so I think I’m gonna—”

Up ahead, the door to the small house swung open, and a relatively small, thin woman burst out onto the path. “Lee! Where have you been? I thought your father told you not to wander off too far.”

Lee broke into a jog, tugging the mongoose lizard along behind him. “But I didn’t go too far, Mom! I just walked to Xin Jian.”

If the woman was trying to focus on her son, she wasn’t doing an especially good job of it. Between stern glances at her son, she kept shooting looks up at Zuko, who angled his face downward, though probably not enough to hide his scar beneath the broad brim of his hat. “You know you’re not supposed to be going there alone as long as the soldiers are in town.” Then, when Lee didn’t answer immediately, she added, “Lee? Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lee answered a little sullenly.

With that, she gave another curt nod and glanced up at Zuko again. “And who is this you’ve brought with you?”

Lee perked up again as a man—presumably his father—emerged from the barn on the opposite side of the farmyard. “This guy yelled at the soldiers when they got mad at me! It was really cool. But then Gow got real mad at him and smashed up his canteens, so he can’t carry water anymore. And since he helped me, I said we could give him a new one.”

In the quiet that followed, what little optimism Zuko had began to falter. Lee’s parents exchanged concerned looks with one another, and when either of them looked Zuko’s way, he could feel the skepticism and mistrust in their eyes. I told you not to get involved, the voice in the back of his mind whispered. And now you’re just going to be miserable because you went and got your hopes up.

But before he could find the proper words to excuse himself and retreat back down the road, the man stepped forward. “I think an old canteen would be poor repayment for a young man willing to stand up to those thugs to help our son. My name is Gansu, that’s my wife Sela, and you’ve already met our son, Lee. What can we call you?”

Zuko froze. All at once, it seemed like every name he’d ever heard left his mind. He couldn’t call himself Lee when that was the boy’s name, but when it came to names that weren’t explicitly Fire Nation, he could really only think of—Sokka. And Aang. And—

“Red,” he blurted out against his own will.

The corner of Gansu’s mouth twitched upward. “Colorful name,” he said evenly, then looked exceedingly smug when Lee groaned. He reached up to offer Zuko a handshake. “Good to meet you, Red. A canteen or two won’t be a problem. As a matter of fact, I think the least we can offer you is a meal and some feed for your, uh—lizard.”

The offer set all of Zuko’s instincts at war with one another, but he eventually reached down to accept the handshake, doing his best to hide the grimace when the twisting motion pulled against his injured ribs. A meal would probably be fine. Even the part of him that insisted on leaving as soon as possible couldn’t find much fault in the idea of staying an hour or two.

But Sela’s gaze seemed a little more intent, and she interrupted even before the handshake was over. “Don’t be silly, Gansu. It’s already getting late.” She motioned for Zuko to dismount. “We can hardly expect him to leave after dinner. A meal and a place to sleep tonight would be more than fair.”

Zuko nearly slipped as he dismounted from the saddle, and as soon as he regained his balance, he shot a startled look back over his shoulder. To his surprise, both Gansu and Sela looked perfectly serious. And Lee, for his part, turned back to Zuko with a broad, gap-toothed grin.

“Told you they’d help.”

After days of strict, self-imposed rationing along his journey, Zuko couldn’t eat much. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry—he was, and he ate as much as he was able—but that was a relatively small amount. Which was probably for the best. Lee’s family didn’t seem to be in any danger of starving, but their table was hardly overflowing either. As it was, even with Zuko’s appetite diminished, there was little food left at the end of the meal.

No one made much fuss over that, though. In fact, if anything, Sela seemed concerned that Zuko wasn’t eating more. Lee, meanwhile, was full of both questions and stories, only half of which were directed at Zuko, and of those, only a few required more than a monosyllable in response.

It was nice, he couldn’t deny that. Nice, but strange and a little unnerving. Gansu and Sela at least had to be aware that Zuko hadn’t been entirely honest with them. So why were they being so kind to him?

“Afraid the barn’s the best we can do for you tonight,” Gansu said, pushing the door wide open after dinner. “But the hay should be comfortable enough. We’ve got some spare blankets you can borrow too, if you need.”

Zuko shook his head. “No, that’s fine. I have my own blanket.” Besides, he’d been sleeping on the ground long enough now that anything would feel like an improvement.

“Glad to hear it. Looks like you’ve been traveling awfully light, but if you’ve got the necessities covered, then it’s all the better.”

Zuko was about to agree when the door creaked shut behind him, and he glanced back over his shoulder to find Sela approaching, arms crossed.

“Lee?” Gansu asked, voice hushed.

Sela nodded. “Already asleep.”

Forehead creasing, Zuko looked back and forth between the two of them. It felt a bit like they had him cornered. Like maybe his fears and doubts had all been justified, and some part of his dishonesty had tipped them off to his real identity, but they didn’t want Lee to see or hear the confrontation. Or even worse, maybe they had seen his wanted posters somewhere, and they just wanted to trap him until Azula could be called in to deal with him, or—

“What’s going on?” he rasped. Allowing his thoughts to run around in frantic circles couldn’t possibly do any good.

With a sigh, Gansu gestured toward a cluster of crates along one of the walls. “Why don’t you have a seat, Red? We’ve got a few questions for you.”

Zuko didn’t want to obey. He didn’t want to make himself that vulnerable, but when both Gansu and Sela took seats along the wall, leaving an obvious opening for him on the crate that sat nearest to the center of the barn, there wasn’t much else he could do. Slowly, warily, he settled on the remaining crate, shoulders hunched and hands tightening into fists.

“How long have the recruiters been hassling you?”

Startled, Zuko looked up. Recruiters? Hadn’t someone else mentioned recruiters to him before? Someone other than Lee, anyway?

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said when the memory eluded him.

“The Earth Kingdom conscription,” Sela cut in, eyes and voice both strikingly intense. “You must be fifteen or so, aren’t you?”

“Sixteen,” Zuko corrected. The fuss over his age felt familiar too, though again, he couldn’t quite place the memory. Not with Gansu and Sela both staring at him like this.

“Same as Sensu,” she said, barely over a whisper. “I’m amazed you’ve made it this far.”

“The Earth Kingdom military is taking recruits your age,” Gansu explained, finally seeming to recognize the fact that Zuko was utterly lost. “That’s where our older boy is now. Off training to fight against the Fire Nation.”

There was a twist in Zuko’s stomach, and for the briefest instant, he could see Jiro and Masato again, sitting around the open mouth of his tent at the edge of Jeong Jeong’s camp. They’d been recruited prematurely too. Of course, the difference was that they’d been shipped to the Fire Nation front lines as bait, as human sacrifices. And they’d escaped. They’d escaped and grown up and, by now, probably driven Jeong Jeong completely out of his mind with some kind of harebrained plan to prevent any other Fire Nation children from meeting the same fate.

In a way, this Sensu person probably had it both better and worse than Jiro and Masato had. Better in the sense that he was getting some actual training in before going off to war, but worse in the sense that all the danger still lay ahead of him.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Sela said, lowering her voice as though she thought someone might be just outside the barn trying to eavesdrop. “You know as well as I do that he never wanted to fight. Neither did most of the other boys. And yet we’re still supposed to lie down and take it when half our kids disappear for ‘training’ with barely a word? It’s all—”

Gansu rested a hand on her shoulder. “Be that as it may,” he said, turning his focus back toward Zuko, “you’re just the age they’re looking for. How long have they been after you?”

The pawnbroker. It hit like a stone to the chest as Zuko suddenly remembered the scrawny old man peering at him over tiny spectacles. The pawnbroker had seemingly been under the impression that Zuko was either a deserter or was fleeing conscription too.

Frowning, he shook his head. “They haven’t been. No one’s trying to recruit me.”

“Red.” Sela’s voice softened, and she reached across to briefly touch his knee. “We can tell that you’re running from something.”

“And that you’re hurt,” Gansu added. “How did that happen? Did you get into the fighting or have a run-in with one of the recruiters, or—”

A short, sharp breath that might almost have passed for a laugh escaped Zuko’s lips, and he shook his head again in disbelief. “No. Nothing like that. I just—I fell off my mongoose lizard. I think I cracked a rib or something, but it was my own fault.” At least the last part was mostly true. The broken rib wouldn’t have happened had he been smart enough to avoid Azula, or at least fast enough to dodge, and in that sense, it was sort of his own fault.

Sela and Gansu exchanged skeptical looks. “We’re not saying that you’re lying,” Sela began after a pause. “But that can’t be everything. If you weren’t running from anything, you wouldn’t still be traveling with broken ribs.”

That, unfortunately, was a fair point. The temptation to stop and rest and heal was almost overpowering sometimes.

“I’m not running from the Earth Kingdom recruiters,” he said carefully. “I’m just—I was traveling with my uncle until we got separated somewhere near Omashu. I need to find him as soon as I can. And if that means traveling with a cracked rib—it’s better than being alone forever.”

A wave of sympathy washed over Sela’s face, and Zuko had to look away before his throat grew too tight. It wasn’t a lie—not entirely, anyway. Outside of the implication that he had any hope of finding Uncle, it was all mostly true. And that hurt more than anything else. Pretending to have hope when there was none felt incredibly unfair.

“The soldiers in Xin Jian will try sooner or later. Mark my word on that.”

Zuko swallowed hard and slowly raised his eyes again. “Then I’ll leave. In the morning, or—or sooner, if you don’t want me here.”

Gansu held up a hand. “Now hold on, son. No one said anything about wanting you to leave.”

At the word ‘son,’ Zuko’s breath caught in his chest, and it took a few moments to find his voice again. “Then what?” he finally managed to croak. What other reason could they possibly have for warning him that the soldiers here might try to drag him off to war?

“You should know the risk you’re facing.” His gaze was stern but also calm and steady. “You’re in no condition to be traveling right now, especially on your own. There’s no way Sela and me are about to kick out a kid the same age as our own son in a state like this. But—” Gansu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “Gow and his thugs could still come here and try to take you away.”

“So I’ll leave,” Zuko repeated again. “They won’t find me if I’m not here.”

A frown. “Son, every town we’ve heard of around here has got the same problems. Gow might be the worst of the conscription thugs, but he’s not the only one. Unless you can ride more than two weeks without stopping for supplies, there will be another one. And if someone gets it in their head that you should be off fighting, your chances will be a lot worse if you’re on your own.”

That made sense. He really couldn’t deny that it made sense, and if the Earth Kingdom recruiters were his first or his only concern, he might have even agreed. A few days or weeks to rest and recover with a kind family watching over him sounded amazing. But Azula, unfortunately, was still out there, and he’d caused enough of a stir today that news would almost certainly reach her one way or another.

“I still need to find my uncle,” Zuko said, wishing it wasn’t a lie. If he had some way to even begin looking for Uncle, his future would look a thousand times brighter.

For a few seconds, everything was quiet before Gansu let out a long sigh. “Right. Suppose there’s no getting around that.” He thought for a moment longer, then straightened. “Make us a bargain, then. Stay here until you have a plan. There’s a lot of land out there and a lot of places to look. At least give it some thought before you go running off into trouble. Deal?”

Though it made Zuko’s throat and eyes burn inexplicably, he eventually gave in and accepted Gansu’s handshake. It probably wouldn’t last more than a night or two, but the fact that he finally had a roof over his head, even a barn roof, utterly overwhelmed him.

If Azula had asked, Ty Lee definitely would have denied that the reason she kept poking her head out the window was to look for shapes in the clouds.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t true. The clouds in this part of the Earth Kingdom were really pretty, especially around sunrise and sunset. And when the alternative was paying attention to all of Azula’s stories about how Fire Lord Ozai was preparing her for the throne, well—Ty Lee was just grateful that it was still light enough outside to see the clouds.

“—and you should have seen the state that the admirals were in before Father let me streamline their communications. Really, it’s a wonder that they were able to get anything done before.” Azula paused for a few long seconds, and when neither Mai nor Ty Lee answered, her voice went sharp. “Ty Lee, are you staring at the clouds again?”

Ty Lee jerked forward like she’d been shocked. “No,” she answered automatically. “I was just—looking at the trees this time.”

That was better than staring at the clouds, right? That was probably better.

“Always so easily distracted.” Azula leaned back to examine her fingernails. “Really, I don’t know why I was so surprised to find you wasting your time at that shabby old circus.”

“At least that doesn’t sound as boring as ‘streamlining communications’,” Mai said dryly. “Doesn’t the Fire Lord have aides to deal with menial tasks like that?”

Azula pursed her lips. “Of course he does. But there’s only so much that those simpletons can be trusted to manage on their own. You should know that, since your own father is one of them.”

Mai didn’t react to that.

“Besides, all the real power in the world comes from knowledge. I’m more than happy to waste some of my time on menial tasks if it means that I understand the Fire Nation better. Even Father doesn’t fully understand the complexities of our military operations. But I will. By the time I ascend the throne, I’ll have every bit of it in the palm of my hand.”

For a second, Mai looked like she wanted to say something—Ty Lee guessed that it might have had something to do with the fact that taking Zuko back to the Fire Nation could complicate Azula’s ascension to the throne—but instead, she just rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “Nerd.”

“I’d rather be a nerd than a bore.”

“Congratulations on achieving both.”

Azula threw a tremendously rude gesture at Mai, who returned the gesture without so much as a pause. Ty Lee, however, couldn’t quite suppress a wince before turning to look out the window again. She would never be able to get away with talking to Azula like that. Not that she really wanted to. Ty Lee had never been brave enough to talk to anyone like that, and while she was sort of in awe of Mai’s boldness, it didn’t seem like a path to very pleasant interactions.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was nice being able to stand up to people like that. Knowing precisely were the boundaries were and precisely how far it was safe to push—that sounded nice to Ty Lee. She never took even half the risks or the liberties that Mai did, and yet it felt like she was always closer to sliding over the precipice.

“Ugh, how much longer do we have to sit around here? I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Going to?” Azula clucked her tongue. “I’ve told you a dozen times already, we should be catching up to Zuzu within two or three days. Surely you can wait that long.”

“Li and Lo promised me a spa day.”

“Well, then Li and Lo must have found your whining unbearable, because they lied to you.”

Ty Lee folded her arms on the edge of the window and rested her chin on top of them. The farther they traveled, the drier the land seemed to become, but there were still forests in the hills here, all evergreens and prickly-looking bushes. This place wasn’t anything like home, or anything like the lands she’d visited with the circus, but it was pretty. Maybe it would be fun to spend some time out here. To go off on her own and explore and meet people. To not help Azula hunt her own brother down.

The idea of it was tempting. Not smart, but still tempting.

Her eyes drifted up to the clouds again, and Ty Lee pulled back from the window with an involuntary gasp.

“Oh, what now? Did the clouds form into the shape of your mother’s face?”

Wide-eyed, Ty Lee shook her head. “No. But—um.” She peeked out at the sky again. “Does the Avatar have some kind of flying hippo?”

“Flying bison, Ty Lee.” Still, Azula was interested enough to rise and peer out the next window down from her. “Oh. Well that is interesting.”

Mai sat up a little straighter. “The Avatar is nearby?”

“It would seem so.”

“Well? Let’s change course. That sounds a lot more interesting than sitting in here for two more days.”

Azula shot a venomous look back at Mai. “We are not giving up our chase when Zuzu is so close. I’ve already wasted enough time chasing after him.” She peered out the window again, lips pursed in apparent thought. “Unless—girls, how would you feel about carrying out a special mission for me?”

Mai leaned forward in what was probably the closest thing to excitement she could muster, and Ty Lee just hoped that she didn’t look too apprehensive.

With a small, sly smile, Azula sat back again. “It seems the Avatar is traveling in roughly the same direction as Zuzu. If you two would be so kind as to go out and give them a bit of a push in the right direction, we might be able to solve all our problems at once.”

Katara couldn’t decide how she felt about the new frequency with which they were moving from camp to camp. On the one hand, this had been Toph’s idea, and her insistence that they move to another camp in search of better rocks was maddeningly, transparently dishonest. They’d obviously left their camp just outside Gaoling to put distance between Toph and her parents, and Katara would have bet every coin they had left on the fact that the second move had been prompted by the same motivations. They’d spoken about staying near Omashu to find Zuko, the idea of remaining anywhere near her parents had scared Toph, and she’d insisted that they move again. That all seemed clear enough.

But on the other hand, Katara wanted to spend as much time as possible up in the air and searching the ground below. So as much as she distrusted Toph’s motives, she wasn’t going to complain about the travel.

There wasn’t much to complain about in her earthbending lesson the following morning, either. For all that Toph liked to shout irritating nicknames, she was efficient, and her instructions were relatively clear. And for all of Toph’s apparent aversion to offering any praise at all, Katara got the sense that she was at least pleasantly surprised by the progress they’d made by the end of the lesson. Not impressed—that would almost certainly take more immediate skill than Katara was able to muster—but pleasantly surprised was better than nothing.

“Alright, get out of here,” Toph said, dusting her hands together. “I think Aang’s gonna piss himself with excitement if I keep him waiting any longer.”

Katara made no effort to hold back her grimace, but she turned back toward the far side of the gorge without comment. The vulgarity was going to take some getting used to. Most things would, where Toph was concerned.

Aang practically skipped past her on the way down to meet Toph, and Katara stopped alongside Sokka to retrieve one of her waterskins for a drink. Spirits, even her muscles ached in unfamiliar ways. But that, at least, felt like a positive change. It was only natural that beginning an entirely new element would leave her feeling different.

“Going well?” Sokka asked, voice low as Toph launched into more of the introductory exercises that she’d had Aang practice yesterday.

Katara shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me? You were watching the whole time.” She corked the waterskin again and rubbed at a tense spot in her shoulder. “Which is weird, by the way. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that this is the first time you’ve shown any interest in my bending.”

“I can’t help that throwing rocks is way cooler than the splishy-splashy stuff.”

Rolling her eyes, Katara flicked a few drops of water at his face before turning away from camp and farther down the gorge.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Sokka jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

“Down to the stream. I’m going to do some boring splishy-splashy practice before Aang’s waterbending lesson.” She shot a look back at him. “You don’t have to follow me.”

Sokka ignored that and fell into step alongside her. “I think something’s up with Toph,” he said after a few seconds, dropping his voice again. “You know—with the moving every day and not wanting to be near Gaoling and the whole persuaded-her-parents-with-an-Earth-Rumble-champion-belt thing.”

A wash of something like relief came over Katara, and she checked over her shoulder to assure herself that they were out of earshot before nodding. At least someone else could see it. “Yeah, I think you’re right about that.”

“So—what do we do?”

As they drew even with the edge of the stream, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the plan guy?”

“Well, yeah. But she’s your teacher, not mine. The only reason I’m not asking Aang too is because he seems sort of—oblivious. Plus, Toph seems like the sort to eavesdrop if we had a full team huddle without her.” He plopped onto a rock at the side of the stream. “So? Thoughts?”

With a frown, Katara pulled a tendril of water from the stream and twirled it a few times in thought. “I don’t know. She’s sort of frustrating, but my lessons with her are going pretty well so far. I’m not sure the same can be said about Aang’s lessons, but it’s still early. Things will probably get better.” She whipped the tendril across the stream hard enough to split a wedge of stone off of a much larger boulder. “And she’s willing to travel. And she claims she’ll be fine working with Zuko, so—”

“So wait and see?”

That did seem like the logical conclusion, but after just a few seconds’ thought, doubt and discomfort began to settle back in. Katara turned back toward Sokka. “There’s no way her parents just let her go the way she says they did.”

Sokka let out a small scoff. “No kidding.” He leaned back on his hands and tilted his head back toward the sky. “But I mean—how much is that going to matter, ultimately? She came to us, and it seems like she’s gonna be helpful, at least with the bending stuff. Do we need to poke at any of this stuff if she’s helping?”

Katara planted a hand on her hip. “Are you just bringing this up because you think I’ll pick a fight with her otherwise?”

“That’s definitely most of it, yeah.” Then, when Katara dropped a globe of water on his head, he straightened back up and shook the moisture from his hair. “Rude. I said most, not all.”

Shaking her head, she turned toward the stream again. “I’m not sure she knows what she’s getting into. Or if she’s even here for the right reasons, for that matter.”

“Teaching you guys how to earthbend?”

“Fighting a war,” she answered. “I mean—the Earth Rumble was one thing, but I’m not convinced she’s ever met a firebender in her life. And we’re not exactly on the front lines, but trouble has a way of finding us. As long as she’s with us, she should be ready for that.”

Sokka seemed to consider that for a few moments. His mouth compressed into a thin line, and eventually, he shook his head. “She has to have thought of that before. I mean, she’s not stupid.”

As hard as she tried, Katara could only bring herself to agree halfway. Toph wasn’t stupid. She was, however, very young and very brash. And the longer that Katara thought about it, the more convinced she became that someone ought to warn Toph of what she’d gotten into.

Chapter Text

“Hey. Hey! It’s time to wake up, Red!”

If not for the fact that someone kept poking his arm, Zuko probably would have ignored that. Red wasn’t his name, and responding to stupid nicknames seemed like a very good way to get stuck with them forever. Besides, he was tired and comfortable, and anyone who knew him well enough to know about that particular stupid nickname ought to know that he could use all the sleep he could get.

But the poking wouldn’t stop, and after what might have been a full minute of hovering on the edge of sleep, Zuko finally realized that it was a child’s voice calling him Red. He dragged his eyes open to find Lee standing over him, a pitchfork in hand and a perplexed look on his face.

Right. This time, it was Zuko’s own fault that he had a stupid nickname. For now, at least, he was Red.

Barely suppressing a groan, Zuko staggered to his feet and out of Lee’s way. Movement reawakened the ache in his ribs, and his mouth was parched, but compared with the past few days, that wasn’t so bad. The sleep-induced clumsiness and disorientation, though—that felt excessive.

“Bet you could sleep through a whole earthquake like that,” Lee said dryly.

In his current condition, Zuko was inclined to agree. He used to be a light sleeper, but after so many days on the run, after all the hunger and pain and fear, he wouldn’t be surprised if just sitting down were enough to put him back to sleep again. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand roughly through his hair a few times to shake any lingering bits of hay free.

With a frown and a small grunt of concentration, Lee jammed his too-large pitchfork into the haystack and hoisted a respectable sized scoop from the pile.

“Need a hand with that?”

Though his scrawny arms wobbled under the weight, Lee shook his head. “No. I just gotta feed the moosows before breakfast.” He shot a look up at Zuko. “And it’s sorta hard to do that with someone sleeping on their food.”

“Right.” Standing around while the kid worked was making his face burn, though, so Zuko searched around the barn until he found a second pitchfork propped in a corner. “How much do you need to feed them?”

“About four big scoops,” Lee answered, then turned just in time to catch Zuko taking a second scoop from the side of the pile. He watched for a few seconds before shooting a big, toothy grin up at Zuko. “You know, Sensu used to help me with chores too. You’re a lot like him.”

Zuko grunted as he tried to balance the pitchforks so that he wouldn’t lose half the hay every time he took a step. “I doubt that. Your brother probably knew what he was doing.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” There was no malice in Lee’s voice, though, and he inclined his head to point Zuko out the door. “How long are you gonna stay with us?”

“Not very long. I need to get back out there and try to find my uncle.” It was as much a lie now as it had been last night—his chances of finding Uncle certainly hadn’t improved—but at the very least, Zuko was probably a bit less likely to pass out and fall out of his own saddle now than he had been yesterday. That certainly couldn’t hurt his chances.

“Oh,” Lee said, sounding crestfallen. “I was hoping you’d stick around until Dad comes back.”

“Has he gone somewhere?”

“No, not yet. But him and Mom talk a lot when they think I’m asleep. They keep saying that Dad could go out and find Sensu if we just knew where the army took him.” He hopped onto a stone that abutted the fence, then tossed his scoop of hay into the trough on the other side. After watching the moosows scuffle for positions along the trough, he turned back toward Zuko. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but that’s what I was looking for yesterday. If anyone knows where Sensu went, it’s gotta be Gow, you know?”

Zuko stared for a second or two before tossing his own scoop of hay over the fence. He wasn’t about to say it—encouraging a kid to seek out unnecessary trouble was such a bad idea that even he could see it—but it sounded like Lee had had the right idea. Infiltrating Gow’s headquarters to find information would have been Zuko’s first step too. He just would have gone at night and tried to conceal his face from any witnesses and knocked out anyone who tried to capture him, and—

And he could already feel the beginnings of bad ideas beginning to take root in his mind. Bringing the pitchfork back down with a barely-concealed wince, he fixed Lee with a stare. He wasn’t going to encourage any bad ideas. He wasn’t.

“Did anyone consider asking where your brother was before you decided to break in and steal their records?”

Lee jutted out his chin. “Of course we did. But all they ever say is that he’s with the army somewhere in the Earth Kingdom.” He hopped down off the rock and took a handful of steps toward the barn before stopping to shoot a look back at Zuko. “Do you think I should try again? I can be sneakier this time.”

“No,” Zuko answered a little sharply. “Didn’t I tell you not to pick fights that you can’t win?” Maybe that was a little hypocritical of him, but just because he had a habit of making stupid decisions didn’t mean that he should be encouraging that pattern in anyone else.

“Sure, but how am I supposed to know which fights I can win if I never pick fights?”

For a few seconds, Zuko could only stare at Lee. Then, shaking his head, he pushed away from the fence to head back toward the barn. “If I ever find my uncle again, I’m going to owe him so many apologies.”

Though running through her waterbending forms did nothing for the unfamiliar ache in Katara’s muscles, it did at least give her a good chance to think, to moderate her impulses. She hadn’t really changed her mind about needing to talk things over with Toph, but it probably wasn’t necessary to turn this into a fight. She and Toph were getting along well enough at the moment—friends they were not, but Katara could handle a lot of prickliness. Maybe if she just gave it some time, she and Toph would adjust to one another’s personalities, and the conversation about how and why Toph had left home would get easier.

There were still questions to be asked about whether or not Toph was ready for the type of danger that tended to pop up along their travels, of course, but it wasn’t like they were in any real danger of finding themselves flung into the middle of a battle in the next few days. And a few days might very well soften her up enough to make the subject of her obviously running away from her parents a little less contentious. And if Katara could only wait a few days to have a cooler, calmer conversation than she could manage today, Toph might be more amenable to the idea that she was, at least tangentially, already involved in the war. That joining them as a teacher was a point of no return—or, at least, that it would become one as soon as the Fire Nation got word that she was working with the Avatars.

Ugh, but waiting, even for Toph to warm up to the rest of the group, felt wrong. There wasn’t any immediate danger now, no reason to interrogate her willingness to fight in the war itself yet, but things had a way of creeping up on them. If a group of Fire Nation soldiers burst into their camp tomorrow looking for a fight, it wouldn’t exactly be fair to anyone for Toph to be caught unaware. Least of all Toph. If there was even a slight risk that the war might find them—and there was always a risk—then it was probably safest to talk things through as soon as possible. To confront Toph, to warn her how dangerous things could get out here.

But finding the words to even approach the topic was difficult. So difficult that Katara finished a round of her waterbending forms, paused to run a bit of healing water over her sore muscles, drilled the earthbending forms that Toph had asked her to practice, and ran through her waterbending forms a second time, all without reaching any firm conclusions.

It was only then, after an extremely generous solo practice session, that she began to realize that she’d been down at the stream for a long time. Hours, probably. And even after so much time, Aang still hadn’t come to join her.

A frown crept slowly across her face. Some part of this just didn’t feel right. Finally, after pulling the excess water from her clothes and hair, Katara turned on her heel and headed back up toward camp to investigate.

They were on the edge of a breakthrough. Toph could feel it.

Whether that meant Aang finally breaking a rock or breaking down into tears she neither knew nor particularly cared. Something had to give sooner or later, and if that meant bruising Aang’s delicate little feelings to get him mad enough to finally bend, that was fine. He’d get over it eventually.

And the sooner that eventually came, the better. These people had wanted her to join up as an earthbending teacher, but now there was all the talk of hanging around Omashu, and of extremely lame firebenders joining the group, and the implication of unfriendly firebenders hassling the group, and—frankly, if Toph could just train Katara and Aang up to mediocrity and let them deal with the rest, they would probably all be a lot happier. She couldn’t go back to the Earth Rumble, but surely there had to be other places and ways for her to make a life out of her bending that didn’t involve all this teaching and making nice with strangers business.

Until then, she just had to keep up the teaching thing until she was far enough away that Mom and Dad couldn’t find her, and until Katara and Aang were trained well enough not to care when their teacher went her own way. Which would be a lot less irritating if Aang was making any progress at all.

“Enough dilly-dallying!” With a stomp, Toph slid the rocks beneath Aang’s feet to correct his posture again. “No side-stepping, no breaking your stance, just put some muscle into it and bend!”

Aang, as he had done dozens of times before, mimicked her movements, but yet again, the force of his intention wasn’t behind the movement, and the rock refused to budge.

Fine. Toph wasn’t in a hurry. Annoyed, but not in a hurry. “Again.”

From farther down the gorge, footsteps approached, and thankfully, Katara had the decency not to interrupt the lesson immediately. While Aang wound up for another attempt, Katara practically tiptoed over to Sokka and whispered like Toph couldn’t hear them from here. Which she definitely could. She’d missed part of their conversation earlier when they’d ventured down to the stream, but here, every word was perfectly clear.

“They’re still going?”

Sokka shrugged. “Aang still can’t move a rock. Not much else for them to do.”

“Hasn’t it been hours now?”

Toph could sense Aang fighting the urge to turn back and join in on the conversation, so she interjected before he could. “Got something to say about my teaching, Fusspants? Or can I finish up with my student?”

There was something of a silent exchange between the siblings, but Katara stepped forward anyway, crossing her arms. “I was going to say that it’s time for Aang’s waterbending lesson, but at this point, I think we’re all overdue for lunch.”

Toph snorted. “Well, I’m not hungry yet. Aang’ll be done when I say he’s done. After he gets that rock to move.”

A slow inhale and exhale. “And how are the next twenty tries going to be any different than all the others? Clearly something isn’t working here. So if we all step back and take a break for a while—”

Oh brilliant. Aang was sniffling now. Wiping his eyes too.

Toph spun back to face Katara. “And I suppose you’re the expert on that now? Two or three earthbending lessons in your entire life and you think you know how to teach it better than me?”

Again, Katara inhaled slowly, seemingly in an effort to calm herself before speaking. “No. But I do know Aang.” Her voice was steady, and she nodded in his direction. “People can only take so much frustration before they give up. I think it would be better to stop now, eat lunch, and maybe have a waterbending lesson before coming back to all of this.”

Behind her, Aang nodded, still sniffling.

A waterbending lesson. Right. More like a coddling session. That seemed to be what Aang wanted, and there was no sign that Katara was unwilling to provide it.

“No, I don’t think so,” Toph answered flippantly. She started to turn toward Aang again. “That wishy-washy stuff isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Until we run into another company of Fire Nation soldiers and have to fight our way out.” A bit of heat had found its way into her voice, and Sokka’s head thumped into his hands. “Aang already knows a decent amount of waterbending, and the closer he gets to mastering it, the better all our chances will be in a fight.”

Toph raised a hand and flapped it open and shut until Katara finished. “Yeah, yeah. Not my problem.”

“You think so?” Almost simultaneously, Sokka’s head snapped back up, and Katara stepped even closer. Judging by the firmness of her step, she seemed pissed. And judging by the tension radiating off of Sokka, he knew exactly what was coming. “Why are you even here, Toph?”

That question took her a little off guard, and Toph felt her forehead scrunch up. “I’m teaching earthbending. Like you guys asked me to.”

“And you sure changed your mind about wanting to teach us in a hurry, didn’t you? Why was that? A sudden swell of motivation to end the war? Or was the sky bison sitting just outside Gaoling just a convenient ride away from home you had to pay for by giving earthbending lessons?”

It felt like she’d been punched, and the heat rose in her cheeks. What the hell? That was—well, it was none of Katara’s business, that’s what. It was pushy and invasive and absolutely shit repayment for everything Toph had given up to come here. Even if it was true.

Sokka leapt up as if to stop Katara. “Why don’t we all just calm—”

Acting entirely on instinct, Toph kicked up a rock in his path to trip him. No. As furious as she was right now, she did not want anyone interfering. If Katara had a problem with her, it was better to get it all out and dealt with now.

“And what else?” Toph snapped. “Don’t hold back now.”

Katara squared her shoulders. “I don’t think you understand what traveling with us means. It’s not just bending lessons all the time. There are soldiers out there who want to find us, and unless you have some kind of magical soldier-repelling powers, they will find us sooner or later. And if the only fights you’ve ever seen were in the Earth Rumble, I don’t know if you’re going to be ready for that.”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

Again, Katara was infuriatingly firm. “No. I’m saying that being here with us might mean fighting for your life sometimes. If you’re not ready for that—if you’re just killing time because you don’t want to be at home, then you might need to think about whether or not this is what you want. We can help you, but if you won’t do the same for us, I’m not sure it’s worth our time.”

There was a deeply unpleasant twinge in Toph’s stomach, and her hands tightened into fists. “For someone whose boyfriend is from the Fire Nation, you sure seem to have a lot of hang-ups about loyalty. Was the pole wedged this far up your ass with him too?”

By the way that Katara’s pulse spiked, Toph could tell that she’d struck a nerve. Good. It was about time that something broke through that fussy good girl persona of hers.

“You don’t get to talk about Zuko like that,” Katara snapped. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Did I hurt your poor little feelings? Or are you worried that your little boyfriend can’t speak up for himself because he’s not here?”

“He’s not my—” Katara cut herself off with a sharp breath and crossed her arms right back at Toph. “We’re not talking about Zuko. We were talking about you and why you decided to leave home. Don’t change the subject.”

For some reason, the unpleasantness in the pit of her stomach deepened. Damn it, why was Katara so determined to poke at that spot?

Toph was doing her part.

Mostly.

She was teaching Katara and Aang like they’d asked, and it wasn’t really Toph’s fault that none of this other stuff had come up when she joined them. She’d just—flatly rejected their request for an earthbending teacher, then turned up at their camp a day later and announced that she was joining them with no further discussion.

But that wasn’t really her fault. If there were serious dangers that Toph needed to know about, the others should have brought it up!

Like Katara was doing now.

Like Sokka was seemingly aware of, if a bit reluctant about.

Ugh, that feeling in Toph’s stomach was getting really unpleasant.

“So what, then? You don’t think I could handle myself in a life or death situation?” she blurted. “You think I’m just some helpless little girl who’s going to cut and run at the first sign of danger? You’re as bad as my parents.”

Katara, unfortunately, seemed to have regained some control over her temper. “The fact that you’re being this selfish about training time isn’t encouraging. But if I’m wrong, and you’re actually totally prepared for getting caught up in the middle of the war, fine. Just say that.”

Toph knew the response that she should give. It should be an easy ‘yes,’ an effortless declaration that she wasn’t afraid of anything any firebenders could throw at her. But her voice stuck in her throat at the thought of it, and aside from jabs at Katara’s firebending boyfriend, she could think of nothing else to say.

Changing the subject would just make her look like a coward anyway. And Toph was not a coward. She just—she didn’t quite know what to say about all this war stuff. And she wasn’t about to stand around and mull it over with an audience.

Uncrossing her arms, she turned away from Katara and stomped to where she’d left her pack lying by Appa’s feet. “I don’t have to put up with this.”

“What?” Despite the fact that he’d been crying mere minutes ago, Aang sounded positively frantic, and he scrambled after her. “No, wait, Toph! Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer. Frankly, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to admit to that either. Slinging the pack onto her back, she aimed herself vaguely toward the east—which should be the path leading farther from home—and started walking.

“Please, please, please tell me that this has all been a bad dream.” Sokka rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “We’ve wasted so much time already, guys, and I just don’t think—”

“She’ll come back,” Aang insisted. “She has to. She’s our earthbending master.”

Katara wasn’t so convinced. At the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to share in the boys’ distress. Toph might come back. Or she might not. Either way, the conversation had been necessary—though more heated than Katara would have liked—and at least now if Toph came back, she would probably do so with some clear motivation outside of avoiding her parents and pushing Aang around.  

“We’ll be okay either way,” Katara said. Then, “Aang, you still have some work to do on your waterbending. Why don’t we do some training while we’re waiting to see if she comes back?”

Sokka lowered his hands just enough to shoot her a glare. “Oh, that’s rich. You want to wait and see now. But when I suggested waiting rather than picking fights, that wasn’t good enough for you.”

She crossed her arms. “We couldn’t wait forever. And it’s better to get it over with now than in a few weeks when we’re way farther from Gaoling and dealing with Azula or something.”

He made a face at her and flopped onto his back.

Aang, however, looked both confused and aghast. “What are you talking about? Nobody ever needs to fight like that!”

Katara drew in a slow, steady breath. “It wasn’t my goal to argue with her. But what else was I supposed to do when she didn’t want to have a normal conversation?”

“You could have just left her alone! Like Sokka said!”

She shot a look in Sokka’s direction, and he raised an eyebrow. Without budging from his place on the ground, he rolled his head to look up at the sky. “I mean—that’s not quite what I said. There’s a little space between dropping the issue forever and turning the whole thing into a shouting match, you know? Diplomacy.”

Exasperated, Katara rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, Mister Diplomat, but saying ‘calm down’ while trying to pull people physically apart doesn’t tend to turn out well. You had plenty of chances to speak up before that if you had any better ideas.” She turned to Aang again. “She wasn’t being honest with us. And I was planning to give her a little more time before I made a big deal over it, but that didn’t seem like a good idea anymore when she started acting so pushy and selfish. She made you cry. I don’t think even Master Pakku did that.”

Frowning, Aang folded his arms and turned his face downward. “He almost did,” he mumbled.

“That doesn’t make it any better. At least we only had to see him for a few hours every day. Toph would have been—or will be, if she comes back—around all day every day. We all need to work as a team if we’re going to be that close all the time.”

He didn’t answer. Which wasn’t that surprising, she supposed. He’d never liked conflict, no matter how mild.

“I was thinking of trying out some new icebending moves,” she said in a thinly-veiled peace offering. “Ice is a lot more similar to earth than I realized at first. If we can’t train with Toph right now, that should at least help a little.”

For a few seconds, Aang remained stubbornly silent, but before long, his resolve seemed to falter. He shot a skeptical look Katara’s way. “Do you really think that’ll help?”

With a smile, she pulled all the water from one of her waterskins and formed it into a frozen ball on the ground. She slid it across to Aang with a fairly-close approximation of one of the earthbending forms that she and Toph had practiced in the morning. “Why don’t you tell me? Just don’t melt the ice.”

Seemingly despite himself, Aang broke into a smile. His motions weren’t quite right, and the ice warped and twisted far more than any rock ever would, but for the first time all day, something that at least resembled an earthbending form worked for him.

“Good.” Katara pushed the ice ball back his way. “Now try to keep it the same shape this time. Rocks don’t bend like that.”

Their practice didn’t get much more precise than that, but for the moment, Katara reasoned that it didn’t especially matter. Aang had been frustrated to the point of tears earlier in the day. Accuracy could probably wait until everything calmed down again and his confidence was a little less shaky.

After a few minutes of practice, she was vaguely aware of Sokka rising from his place on the ground and meandering to the opposite side of camp. Which was normal. So normal, in fact, that she’d nearly forgotten his departure when Momo burst from the trees near him, screeching.

“Oh, shit!” Sokka’s feet skidded against the gravelly ground as he scrambled back toward Katara and Aang. “Guys. Guys!” He grabbed Katara by the arm as if to make sure she’d heard him and shot a frantic look back over his shoulder. “Practice time’s over. I think we’ve gotta go.”

If there was one good thing to be said about how thin Zuko had grown in his travels, it was probably the fact that he could wedge himself through almost inhumanly narrow gaps if necessary. And if he wanted to leave the barn unnoticed after dark, it was necessary. The barn door creaked loud enough to rouse the moosows, and the moosows’ bellows and shrieks were loud enough to wake Lee and his entire family.

Tonight, that was the last thing Zuko needed. If Gansu or Sela caught him sneaking off toward Xin Jian, they would try to stop him, to tell him that this was a bad idea. Which was advice that Zuko really didn’t need. He already knew this was a bad idea. And if Lee happened to catch him, he’d almost certainly insist on coming along. Which was probably worse, because Zuko knew this was a bad idea, and he really didn’t need to start spreading his bad ideas to anyone else.

Thankfully, he made it out of the barn and past the moosow pens without incident, and when he ducked into an overgrown field at the edge of town to don his makeshift disguise—a dirty old length of cloth that would cover most of his face—he was at least somewhat confident that no one had spotted him yet. As his stupid ideas went, it wasn’t a bad start. Now he just had to get through the rest of the plan.

For a few seconds, he stayed where he was in the tangle of weeds, staring up at the sky. This wasn’t much different from his outings as the Blue Spirit. He didn’t have his mask or his swords or the strength to fight very much at all, but that wasn’t so bad. His face was covered, and he’d found a wooden mallet in the barn, and he wasn’t really planning to fight anyone. He was just going to get into the soldiers’ quarters, find their records about the new recruits, and return to the farm before morning. He needed stealth, not strength.

He frowned before pushing back to his feet and emerging onto the road again. No, he couldn’t even bring himself to believe his own lies. He was still going in there, though. Lee and his family had been kind enough to take him in, and the least he could do in return was tracking down some information about their missing son and brother. And as long as Zuko could get in and out without incident, he could pass the information on to Gansu and Sela and be gone on his journey again before the soldiers even knew what happened.

The streets of Xin Jian were quiet and dark, and although Zuko hadn’t paid much attention to its buildings on his first visit, he picked his way from shadow to shadow back to the square without much trouble. There, just outside the door of what had to be the soldiers’ headquarters, a lone man stood—or rather slumped—on guard.

As quietly as he could, Zuko darted into the shadows of one alleyway, then the next, until at last, he was only a handful of paces from the soldier and hidden just behind a corner. Leaning back against a wall for a second, he drew a steadying breath.

One guard. A guard who barely even seemed awake. That was manageable. Assuming that the others were all asleep, he might not need to fight at all.

Before he could lose his nerve, he stuck his head out around the corner, threw the mallet as hard as he could, then ducked back out of sight again. From the front of the building, there was a crack, then a slower, softer thump as the man crumpled to the ground.

Heart racing, Zuko waited a few seconds longer to be certain that there was no other sound before rushing out to drag both the man and the mallet out of sight.

So far, so good. With a bit of twine from his pocket, Zuko bound the man’s hands behind his back before hastily checking his pockets. There were no keys that he could find—either the soldiers trusted the menace of their very presence to keep intruders out, or Zuko would have to pick the lock himself—but there were a pair of swords strapped across his back.

For a second, Zuko stared at the swords. Taking them was probably a bad idea. It was too dark to see any markings, but they were probably military swords, probably identifiable in some way. If anyone saw him with those swords, they would probably recognize them as stolen.

But it had been so long since Zuko had held a proper sword. And since his own bending was so incredibly risky here in the Earth Kingdom, a pair of swords, stolen or not, might very well be the difference between life and death.

Fumbling a little in the dark, he pulled the swords and their sheath free and slung them over his own shoulder. This whole night was already a bad idea. At the very least, he ought to take every slight advantage that he could find.

Chapter Text

Walking alone with all her supplies on her back and no place where she really needed to be felt like it should have been liberating. Toph had never had this kind of freedom before. She could go wherever she wanted, do whatever she pleased, and for once in her life, no one would try to stop her.

This should have been great. Toph had been dreaming about this kind of liberation for nearly as long as she could remember. She should have been delighted with her newfound independence.

Unfortunately, she had been walking since yesterday, and now that the warmth of morning was beginning to reach her, that conviction and optimism was getting harder to hold onto. Maybe Katara had a point.

“Ugh!” she shouted to no one, kicking the ground hard enough to bounce several large boulders in the circle around her, which disrupted all the birds in the nearby trees and sent plenty of them flapping and screeching away from her. “That jerk is not the boss of me!”

Aside from a faint, distant echo, there was no response.

Of course there wasn’t. Toph was out here alone. Which was what she’d wanted, really. No grownups to tell her what to do, no weird, nosy kids to shove their noses in her business, no responsibilities or schedules to maintain.

Nothing at all to do but think.

Clamping her fists around the straps of her pack, Toph began marching onward again. So what if her mind kept replaying the argument over and over again? She wasn’t about to admit defeat and turn back just because it seemed possible that Katara might have a point. That would be really embarrassing. Toph prided herself on knowing her own feelings. On knowing others’ feelings almost better than they did themselves. What would it do to her image if she showed back up and admitted that Katara of all people had managed to see straight down to her core and poke at her one weakness?

No, that wasn’t happening. Absolutely not. Toph could take care of herself just fine without them. She could find her own food—probably—and she could walk basically anywhere that those losers and their fluffy snot monster could fly. She didn’t need them now that she was some distance from Gaoling. Sure, she didn’t know how to cook, but she could probably find edible roots on her own. And walking was a lot slower than flying, but Toph didn’t particularly care for spending that much time with her feet off the ground anyway.

She could manage on her own. Things would just sort of—suck.

Toph set her jaw. Fine. She could admit that she didn’t exactly love the idea of traveling alone. She wasn’t sure where she was, and it was weirdly quiet out here, and her feet were starting to hurt, and eating roots pulled straight from the ground sounded really unappetizing. But that didn’t mean that she had to go back. She wasn’t going to.

After all, what business did Katara have asking whether and why Toph had run away from home? Sure, she hadn’t entirely thought through her decision, but why should she have to? They’d wanted an earthbending teacher, and Toph was willing to teach. All that other garbage about firebending boyfriends and Fire Nation soldiers hadn’t been part of the original deal, and if the others really wanted Toph to make that kind of commitment, they should have told her sooner!

Or you could have asked, a small voice in her head pointed out. And how soon did you want them to bring it up anyway? They mentioned Katara’s boyfriend on your first full day with them. Your fight with Katara was on the second.

Though she hadn’t eaten anything since sometime yesterday, Toph’s stomach knotted and she felt a little bit sick. The answer, unfortunately, was pretty clear. Toph didn’t want anyone to bring up anything to do with the Fire Nation at all, and she probably wouldn’t have asked on her own either. She hadn’t thought things through because she didn’t want to.

She’d only just left home and started living her own life. Why did she have to get smacked with such a big decision, such a massive potential commitment so soon after claiming her freedom? It wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t have to swear an oath of loyalty just to travel with some kids near her own age.

If you’re not ready for that, then you might need to think about whether or not this is what you want.

“Ugh!” Toph shouted again.

Nope, she wasn’t going back. Definitely not. Even if Katara had a point, there was no possible way that Toph could bear to prove her right.

He should have started packing sooner. Before sunrise, even.

As hard as Zuko tried to move faster, his meager pile of supplies simply wouldn’t disappear into his saddle quickly enough. It didn’t help that Gansu and Sela stood shoulder to shoulder on the porch just opposite him, alternately watching and whispering to one another. The combined weight of their gazes had his heart beating a little too fast and made it very, very difficult to focus on the task before him.

“You’re really leaving already?” Lee asked from his perch atop a nearby fence.

“I told you I couldn’t stay very long.”

“Yeah, but two nights is nothin’. I thought you’d stay for a week at least.”

With unsteady hands, Zuko checked the saddlebag to be certain that his newly-stolen swords were tucked safely out of sight before stuffing his folded blanket in on top of them. Considering how ill-prepared he’d been last night, his trip into town had turned out surprisingly well—better than he’d had any right to expect—but the lack of sleep was weighing on him a bit now. Enough so that he wasn’t even positive how long he would be able to keep himself upright in the saddle once he set off. A few hours, he hoped. That would, with any luck, be enough to take him off the prairie and into the hills where he could at least attempt to hide again.

“I still have to meet up with my uncle,” he said, stooping to pick up the freshly-filled canteens that Gansu had given him yesterday. “I can’t just stay anywhere I like when I still have family out there waiting for me.”

“I guess so. But I was still hoping—”

From the corner of his eye, Zuko saw Gansu take a step down off of the porch, and his heart sank. Shit. He really should have left sooner.

“Red?” Gansu called across the farmyard. “Could we have a word with you before you go?” Then, when Lee hopped down from the fence, he added, “A private word?”

Lee stopped in his tracks and pouted before sullenly meandering over toward the moosows again.

Zuko, meanwhile, stood frozen at the mongoose lizard’s side for a few long seconds, fighting to slow his increasingly panicked breaths. Shit. He didn’t want to talk. Even less so if this had anything to do with what he’d done last night. And by now, Gansu and Sela would certainly have found the papers he’d left them. There was no other conclusion they could possibly draw after finding the papers than that Zuko had taken it upon himself to steal the information for them.  

But running would only look more suspicious, so after sparing one more quick glance into the barn to reassure himself that none of his possessions had been left behind, Zuko slowly, reluctantly started across the farmyard.

It wasn’t until a big hand landed on his shoulder that he dared to look up again, and found both Gansu and Sela huddled in close around him. And although there was a messy tangle of emotion in both of their eyes, he thankfully couldn’t detect any signs of anger. Just something that might have been—concern, maybe?

“We found some papers shoved under our front door this morning,” Gansu said gruffly, hand still resting on Zuko’s shoulder, and eyes piercing straight into his core. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

What was he supposed to say to that? Numb, Zuko shrugged. His mouth had gone dry, and his voice came in halting bursts. “I guess that depends on what kind of papers they were.”

“Military orders for Sensu’s division.” Sela stepped just a little closer, brows creased so deep in apparent worry that Zuko had to look away. “All the other boys from the area too. And dozens more names we don’t even recognize.”

“That—that sounds useful.”

“Red.” Gansu’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and he spoke sternly. “Those papers had to get here somehow. What happened last night?”

Wordless, Zuko shook his head. He couldn’t answer that. Being the Blue Spirit had been bad enough. Resorting to the same sort of vigilantism when he was alone and on the run and so obviously guilty was a thousand times more dangerous.

“We aren’t angry with you, Red,” Sela inserted. “It’s everything we’ve been wanting to know since our Sensu was taken. We finally have a chance to get our son back now.” She reached for Zuko’s other shoulder, her touch light. “But if you put yourself in any danger over it—”

A sharp breath escaped him, and Zuko took a small step back, shaking his head again as he pulled himself free from both of their grasps. “Then it’s safer if no one knows for sure. Isn’t it?” He paused just long enough to catch a flash of confused concern before looking away. “Thank you for everything. Really. And—I hope you find your son.” Then, before they could try to stop him again, he retreated to his mongoose lizard.

He had to get out of here. The sooner the better.

Unfortunately, he had no more than climbed up into the saddle before a plume of dust rising along the path caught his eye. His heart skipped, and within moments, he could make out a trio of Earth Kingdom soldiers galloping toward the farm on ostrich horses.

Shit. He really should have left sooner.

They’d gotten their supplies back. After being forced to flee their camp just as evening fell, that was really the only positive that Katara could see.

Rubbing her forehead, she let out a long sigh and hung her head over the back of the saddle. The Fire Nation girls they’d encountered in the dungeons in Omashu had burst into camp riding some sort of oversized lizards, giving them mere seconds to clamber into Appa’s saddle before fleeing. Fortunately, though, the girls seemed far more interested in pursuit than in the supplies they’d been forced to abandon, so after drawing them a mile or two off, it wasn’t too much trouble to double back and hastily pack everything into the saddle.

Unfortunately, doubling back had just made it easier for the Fire Nation girls to find them again, and even now, she could still catch flashes of their dark silhouettes against the yellowish stone and occasional plumes of dust rising in their wake. Those girls—both the morose one with the knives and the cheerful one in pink with the weird, numbing jabs—were certainly determined. It was hard to guess what their exact intentions might be, but they’d been in pursuit all night long and gave no signs of giving up even now.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Sokka shouted from his place at the reins, “I’m beginning to doubt the zigzagging tactic. I think if we just pick a direction and fly as fast as we can in a straight line, we’ll lose them a lot faster.”

“No! We can’t do that,” Aang said, almost frantic. “Toph is down there somewhere.”

Despite all her former placidity around Toph’s desertion, Katara was inclined to agree. Though the Fire Nation girls likely wouldn’t see any reason to harass a little earthbending girl if they happened to see her, it was entirely possible that Toph would give them a reason if she was still in a sour mood.

And more charitably, it was still possible that Toph could have changed her mind and turned back toward camp sometime in the night. If they ventured too far away now, they might never find each other again.

“Appa was pretty well rested last night,” Katara said, turning toward the front of the saddle. “I know we flew most of the night, but he’s flown us longer than that before. Right?”

“Yeah. Around two days if he really has to.”

“Okay, so it’s been about half a day now. We can probably keep circling and zigzagging to look for Toph until nightfall and still have at least twelve hours left to shake those girls off our trail. That should be enough time.”

Aang didn’t seem terribly pleased with her compromise, but after a few moments’ though, he grudgingly nodded. Sokka, however, turned back to raise an eyebrow at her.

“Sure, Appa can fly for almost two days. But what about the rest of us? I haven’t slept all night, Katara.”

She raised an eyebrow right back at him. “Neither have those girls. Maybe we’ll get lucky and outlast them.” Then, when he remained unimpressed, she sighed and shook her head. “If it’s that big a deal to you, I’ll take over for a while. As long as they’re not shooting fireballs at us, the saddle should be perfectly fine for a nap.”

Sokka frowned at her briefly before conceding with a shrug. “Just keep track of our position on the map, would you? I don’t want to wake up lost.”

“Stay close, Red,” Sela whispered. If not for the fact that her hands were clamped protectively on Lee’s shoulders already, Zuko would have thought that she’d gotten their names mixed up. Her voice was filled with far too much genuine worry to make any sense directed at Zuko, considering the trouble he’d caused.

But he obeyed all the same, keeping his head down and his hands clutched around the mongoose lizard’s reins. Though the soldiers had insisted on marching them all into town on foot, he’d at least managed to keep the creature with him. Not that it seemed likely to help him. How could he possibly bring himself to flee when that would just bring the soldiers’ wrath down on Lee and his family in his place?

“Get up there,” Gow said, shoving Gansu ahead, away from the rest of his family.

Zuko’s head jerked up at the sound of the brief scuffle, and his breath caught in his throat. Gansu had, fortunately, managed to catch himself and straighten again, and he stood almost eye to eye with Gow, forehead creased into a scowl. Just beyond the two men, though, what seemed to be the entire village stood in uneasy clusters around the square.

Tendrils of ice worked their way through Zuko’s chest. Oh, no. He recognized this feeling.

Cold marble under his hands. The smell of burning flesh—

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Gow announced, hefting one of his massive hammers up to rest on his shoulder. “Tell your neighbors what you’ve done, or I’ll do it for you.”

The dread solidified to a stone in Zuko’s stomach. Gow wanted to make an example of this family. Of him. To simultaneously divide the people of Xin Jian and drive their existing fears in deep enough to quiet any dissent for good.

Mind and heart both racing, Zuko searched around the square in a vain hope for something, anything that might spark a plan. Escape wasn’t good enough. Gansu, Sela, and Lee had taken him in, had treated him almost as family. It was Zuko’s stupid idea that had gotten them into trouble now, and he couldn’t allow them to suffer the consequences.

“I’ll confess,” Gansu said coolly. He looked Gow up and down, expression perfectly steady. “If you’ll keep your hands off me. I’m a farmer, not a fighter. All this pushing hardly seems necessary.”

Shit. Zuko glanced back at the mongoose lizard. He had the swords, if he could manage to dig them out of the saddle. He wasn’t sure how well he would be able to fight in his condition, especially against three grown men, but it was an option. Or he could mount the mongoose lizard and attempt to charge the soldiers—but the mongoose lizard was unarmored. If only he had a komodo rhino. If Jasmine were here, each and every person in the street would have been driven away already. Probably including Zuko.

Gow gave a sarcastic bow, and Gansu stepped forward. Before Zuko could find the words to object, he’d produced a slightly crumpled page from beneath his tunic and held it up for the rest of the village to see.

“To the front lines near the Kolau Range, four fresh recruits: Fan, Bolin, Kang, and Tao. To the eastern front, three—”

 The instant that Gow realized Gansu was reading from the stolen documents, he sprang forward, but if the villagers’ expressions were anything to go by, the damage was already done. With each of the four names, one of the families gathered in the square had straightened up, and nearly all the others stared at Gansu almost hungrily. Like they too recognized the names, and were waiting for news of their own sons and brothers.

“Traitorous pig,” Gow snarled, making a swipe at the papers. “Do you have any idea what the consequences are for—”

Instinct won out over sense, and Zuko stepped forward. “It isn’t his fault. I’m the one who stole those papers.”

“No, Red,” Sela hissed, making an unsuccessful attempt to pull him back again.

At almost the same instant, all three of the Earth Kingdom soldiers rounded on him. Zuko’s pulse quickened, and the sheer rage in the soldiers’ eyes sent prickles up and down his spine. Especially the one with a bandage wound around his head—the mallet had served its purpose well last night, but now that the man was conscious again, Zuko had some regrets.

Gansu seized the moment of distraction and raised the papers high in the air. “Sometimes it takes a stranger to do what needs to be done. Our boys are out there fighting a grown man’s war without any training. They were taken from us, and without Red, we might never have known it. But now we have a chance to put things right!”

The villagers—most of them, at least—began nodding and making vague grumbles of agreement. A few of them even stepped forward as if to join in on a potential fight.

Gow, however, still had his attention fixed on Zuko. His upper lip curled back in a sneer of pure, unfiltered malice. “Of course it’s you. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Red.” Sela’s hand closed around his wrist. “Please stand back. You’ve done enough already.”

“He certainly has.” Gow turned his head as far as he could without pulling his eyes from Zuko’s face. “Boys, which one of you has the poster?”

Poster? Another chill ran through him, and Zuko took half a step back.

The soldier with the bandage on his head patted and fumbled around in his tunic as Gow continued.

“Don’t be fooled, Xin Jian. No one who attempts to undermine the army that protects you from destruction will ever be on your side. Before you stands the proof.”

By now, Gansu had amassed a small cluster of supporters, and he turned to Gow again, slightly red in the face. “No army that takes our children away has any interest in protecting us.”

The bandaged soldier succeeded in producing a scroll from his tunic and passed it to Gow, whose face split into a self-satisfied grin. “And that spy of yours does?” With a theatrical flourish, he unfurled the scroll for the whole village to see. “Behold your protector: Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation!”

Though Zuko could only see vague shadows of the ink through the back side of the poster, he recognized it almost instantly as a duplicate of the posters he’d found in the saddle mere hours after escaping Baiyu on the mongoose lizard. Sela’s hand dropped away from his arm, the growing consensus in the crowd was replaced by shock, and a wave of nausea washed over him.

No. This all had to be some horrible nightmare.

“We probably wouldn’t have recognized you if you hadn’t caused such a fuss two days ago,” Gow said smugly, this time speaking directly to Zuko. “But since you did, I took the liberty of writing to this—Azula person who wanted to find you. It shouldn’t be too much longer before she comes to take you off our hands.” He turned back toward the villagers. “This is all Fire Nation trickery. That boy was sent here to tear us apart.”

“Is it true?” a small voice asked.

Zuko looked just far enough to the side to see Lee staring up at him, forehead creased. A stab of pain went through his chest, and for once, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his broken ribs.

He couldn’t lie. Even if he wanted to, the words simply wouldn’t come.

“I am Zuko,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”

Betrayal flooded into Lee’s eyes, and he edged as far away as he could with Sela’s hand still resting on his shoulder.

“But nobody sent me here,” he added, voice rising to a yell when Gow’s smugness deepened. “That part is all a lie! Your kids were gone long before I got here. I couldn’t make that up if I tried. You don’t have to trust Gow just because you can’t trust me!”

There were stirrings in the crowd again, and this time, one of the bystanders sent a fist-sized rock hurtling through the air. Based on where it landed, it was difficult to judge whether Zuko or Gow had been its intended target, but the palpable rage behind the throw broke through the dam of stillness, and the crowd erupted into outrage.

Sela grabbed Zuko’s arm one last time, hauling him just a few steps back from the fray. For the briefest of moments, her gaze pierced straight through him, and he could feel all the fury at his deception coiled around the compassion that she’d shown him so far. But as confusing a blend of emotions as that might have been, she hardly hesitated before releasing his arm again. “Red. Or Zuko—whoever you are—run. While you still have the chance.” She pushed him a little too roughly toward the mongoose lizard. “Just run.”

There were a lot of things that Toph could have anticipated finding on her solitary journey through the wilderness. Animals. Cool rocks. Weird plants. Maybe even an occasional person, though merchants and bandits seemed way more likely than any other travelers.

She hadn’t anticipated meeting a stocky, cheerful old man with an ostrich horse and a teapot. And yet, there the man was, sitting just across from her with a freshly-brewed pot of tea, seemingly no campfire, and lots of pleasantries to offer as he passed a teacup her way.

This was all very strange. If Toph were any less confident in her own senses, she might think that she was imagining all of it. 

But no, there was definitely an old man sitting across from her, and now she had a cup of tea to prove it. A very good cup of tea too, judging by the smell of it.

“What brings a young lady like yourself so far out into the wilderness like this?” he asked, pouring himself a cup.

Toph snorted. “Like that’s any of your business. Besides, I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you a little old to be out here all alone?”

The old man chuckled like that was the funniest thing he’d heard in days. It probably was. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. Forgive my prying. I am grateful for the company.”

Still a little wary, she planted one foot flat against the ground to monitor the old man’s movements as he lifted his own cup to his lips. It wasn’t like she was worried that he would poison her or anything, but she wasn’t stupid either. She knew that lonely weirdos couldn’t always be trusted.

“So what are you doing out here?” she asked. “I didn’t think people usually let their grandfathers wander this far from civilization.”

Another chuckle, and the old man took a long sip of his tea. “I believe that that opinion speaks to a kinder history than many of us have been given. But I am hardly as old as I seem. Would you believe that less than a decade ago, I was a soldier at the height of my capabilities?”

“Rough decade.”

“They often are. In my case, I believe much of the change was for the better.” He patted his stomach before taking another sip of tea. “To answer your question, I was not traveling alone originally.”

Since he seemed more than willing to drink his own tea, Toph took a chance on it as well. Hmm. It was weirdly good for something that some old guy had brewed in the middle of nowhere with no discernable traces of a campfire around.

“And I hope that I will not be traveling alone much longer,” the old man continued. “My nephew and I were separated about a week ago, but I believe we will meet again soon.”

Toph took another sip of tea before placing her cup down beside her. “Drinking tea in the woods doesn’t seem like the best way to find anyone.”

“Perhaps not. But until my search draws nearer to its close, I find myself obligated to keep out of sight. A cup of tea with an interesting young companion seems as good a way as any to keep off the roads and to keep these old limbs from getting too tired.” A short pause. “I assume that your journey is similarly uncertain since you have the time to favor me with your company?”

Toph’s hands clenched. Sneaky old man, steering the conversation back to her. But it was a fair enough question. She shrugged. “I’m not looking for anyone, but yeah. I can go anywhere I please and take as much time as I want.”

“Hmm.” She suspected that the old man was studying her and her supplies, and when he spoke again, he seemed to confirm that guess. “If you have nowhere in particular to go, I suspect that means that you are interested in leaving something behind.”

She scowled. “I thought you didn’t want to pry.”

“It is certainly not my intention. But I’m sure you can understand my curiosity. It isn’t every day one encounters such a young person traveling alone through the wilderness.”

He was right about that, she supposed. Or probably right. She picked her teacup back up and took a long sip to buy herself a moment before answering.

“I’m an earthbender,” she began at last. “A really good one. A master.” She paused to test whether the old man would try to argue or express doubt, and when he didn’t, she pressed on. “A couple of new benders asked me to teach them, and I agreed at first, but then they started getting all bossy and uptight with me.” Her hands tightened around the teacup, nearly enough to shatter the clay. “I don’t need that kind of trouble from people who asked for my help. If they don’t want me doing things my way, then they can just find someone else.”

For a few long seconds, the old man remained quiet. “I certainly have known my share of—intractable students in my time.”

“See? You get it. It’s not my fault that stuff about fighting as a team didn’t come up in the first place! They told me they wanted a teacher. How was I supposed to know that they were including fighting Fire Nation soldiers as part of the bargain?” The heat had risen in her voice again, and she felt the same uncomfortable swell of feeling as when Katara had her cornered yesterday—a nasty blend of embarrassment and indignation and doubt.

The doubt was definitely the worst part. What right did Katara have to make Toph feel so uncertain about her own motives?

For what felt like a long while, the old man was quiet. “It strikes me as a somewhat unusual request,” he finally ventured. “These students of yours—do you know if they had any reason to anticipate trouble from the Fire Nation?”

Yeah. They were the Avatars. Of course they would have trouble with the Fire Nation.

Grudgingly, Toph nodded.

“And are you opposed to the idea of fighting alongside them?”

It took longer than she liked to formulate a response. “I don’t—I mean, no, I’m not afraid of fighting. And I guess if I had to get involved in the war, they’re at least on the right side of it.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “I just—why can’t they just leave me out of it? We’re in the middle of the Earth Kingdom. Things can’t be all that bad.”  

This time, the pause seemed even longer than before, and the old man took a few extended sips of tea before speaking again. “Would you like to hear the story of how my nephew and I were separated?”

Toph cocked her head to the side. What did that have to do with anything? It was better than a lecture, though, so she shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Very well, then. Have you ever heard of a place called Baiyu?”

She shook her head.

“It’s a quiet little place. Just a few hundred people living simple lives, all far enough from the coast and the cities that the Fire Nation has seen little use for it in the past century.” His stout fingertips ran surprisingly delicately along the edge of his own cup. “About a week ago, my nephew and I stopped there for a bit of rest along our journey. The people were lovely and welcoming. Not a single one had any ties to the war, as far as I was able to tell at the time.” A pause, and when he resumed, an unfamiliar thread of sadness and worry found its way into his voice. “But that did not discourage the Fire Nation. I did not see it myself, but I understand that a company of soldiers threatened to burn the place to the ground. My nephew, however—I had foolishly sent him ahead for supplies, and he saw everything. It was only with his intervention that the attack was stopped. And ever since then, the very soldiers he spoke against have forced him to flee while I can only endeavor to follow.”

Though Toph didn’t have the faintest idea of who this nephew was, a small part of her felt sorry for him. For the old man too. That kind of pursuit had to be miserable.

The old man inhaled slowly, deeply before he went on. “I suspect that you have not experienced much of the war. For that, you are fortunate. But there are those who have seen much of the ruthlessness and understand how abruptly it can strike, even in the least likely of places. I cannot speak to your students’ intentions, but if they intended their requests as warnings, I believe those warnings would be apt.”

Her fists tightened until her nails bit into her palms. That was not what she wanted to hear. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that Katara had been right—that Toph might be in over her head here.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“I am not certain what you mean.”

She scowled. “Don’t act like that whole story wasn’t meant to be some kind of advice. I may be blind, but I’m not an idiot.”

The old man chuckled. “Well, you certainly catch on faster than my nephew does.”

He was probably a real dunce if that were the case. “So? You’re some kind of wise old man. Make with the advice.”

After what seemed like an exaggeratedly long sip, he sighed. “The truth of the matter is that I cannot tell you what to do. If you left because the dangers of traveling alongside your students were too great, there are certainly safer places you may go. Ba Sing Se, for instance.”

“No. I’m not scared, and I’m not going to Ba Sing Se.”

“Then was it their cause that you disagreed with?”

That question took her a little longer to ponder over. She’d never really asked what the others’ ultimate goal was, but Katara and Aang were the Avatars. They probably had an interest in ending the war, one way or another. And while she’d never really thought that much about the war since it was always so far from Gaoling, the idea of ending all the fighting at long last was—nice.

Maybe if there was no more war, Mom and Dad wouldn’t feel the need to protect her so thoroughly. Maybe if there was no more war and Toph had played a role in its end, everyone would finally have to acknowledge that she was capable of looking after herself after all.

And maybe if all of that were possible, dealing with all the aggravation from Katara and Aang would be worthwhile.

With a groan, she thumped her head against her raised knees.

“Is everything okay?”

Toph let out another small groan. “Not entirely.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking her head, she straightened back up and downed the rest of her tea. “No, probably not.” She pushed the cup back toward the old man and rose to her feet, slinging her pack onto her back once again. “I’m just really dreading the part where I have to tell Katara that she was right.”

For some reason, the old man straightened like he’d been shocked. “Is that Avatar Katara, by any chance?”

Warily, Toph nodded. “Yeah. But if you think I’m gonna lead you back there—”

“No, no, no.” Shaking his head forcefully, the old man swallowed the rest of his tea, dumped the rest of the pot, and stuffed it into a pouch somewhere on the ostrich horse’s saddle. “I would not ask such a thing. I have a sudden feeling that finding my nephew is more urgent a matter than I previously thought.” He did, however, pause a moment before mounting the ostrich horse. “If it isn’t too much trouble, though, I would appreciate it if you would inform Avatar Katara that Iroh is heading toward Tu Zin. She and her friends may use that information however they please.”

Chapter Text

Although Ty Lee hadn’t argued over this new assignment to chase the Avatar around with a couple of mongoose lizards, she was beginning to question whether or not it had been a good idea to accept the assignment.

On the one hand, riding across the Earth Kingdom countryside with the wind on her face was sort of nice. The mongoose lizards ran fast and smooth, scuttling up and down uneven terrain like it was nothing. They passed through lovely, fragrant conifer forests, over flower-dappled meadows, and occasionally into equally vibrant but much drier expanses of colorful rocks and sand. They were seeing plenty of the sights that Ty Lee had wanted to see when she left home to travel with the circus. And best of all, out here, there were no pointed looks shooting her way whenever Ty Lee got a little distracted and paid too much attention to the pretty foliage and puffy clouds.

But on the other hand, it had been a full day and a half of riding so far. Several hours to find the rocky gorge where the Avatar had set up camp, an extremely brief moment where it looked like there might be a fight, then after the Avatar and his friends thought better of it, many, many more hours of riding. And they weren’t going in any particular direction either. It was all little swirls and zigzags, like the Avatar didn’t really care about throwing off his pursuers. Like he was just biding his time for some reason. And as much as she liked being out in the open and riding so fast through the wilderness, Ty Lee was getting pretty tired. Fresh air was only invigorating up to a point. After that, it just made her sleepy.

“Do you think we can really catch the Avatar?” Ty Lee called out when she and Mai drew side-by-side on a meadowy stretch of ground. “This is already a lot longer than I thought they could fly.”

It took a moment before Mai glanced her way. “Oh, you’re not talking to your mongoose lizard this time?”

Ty Lee did her best to ignore that. It wasn’t her fault that there wasn’t much else to do if she wanted to keep herself awake. “It’s just that we’re still sort of going in circles, you know? Getting them to Tu Zin like Azula wants seems like it’ll be hard if they’re up in the air all the time.”

A hefty sigh. “They have to rest sometime. That bison of theirs isn’t a machine. It’s going to need to eat and sleep just like anything else.”

“Yeah, but—won’t we have to eat and sleep too?”

Mai looked at her like she was crazy for even thinking such a thing. “Cold feet, Ty?”

She shook her head forcefully enough to send her braid swinging. “No, I’m just saying that—”

“They’ve landed a couple of times already. Try having a little patience.” She put her head down and lowered her voice a fraction. “I’ve got a score to settle with those insolent twerps.”

Surprised, Ty Lee shot a sideways glance at her. “Over Omashu?” Sure, they’d tussled a little in the dungeons, and sure, the Avatar had escaped with his friends, but that didn’t seem like such a big deal. They couldn’t win every fight, and the Avatar was a formidable opponent.

“Yes, over Omashu. What else?”

Ty Lee wasn’t sure about that, but there were some uncertain flickers in Mai’s aura that said very clearly that it wasn’t all about the fight they’d lost. She turned her eyes to the path ahead and put on her cheeriest voice. “Did you think that boy was cute too?”

Mai looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. “What boy?”

“The taller one. The one with hair and stuff.” Obviously Ty Lee wouldn’t be talking about the Avatar. He looked like a little kid. If he was cute, it was just in a koala lamb kind of way. The taller one, though—he was a little scruffy-looking, but not in a bad way.

“Your taste is appalling.” Mai’s voice was perfectly flat, and the flickers in her aura barely changed.

So Mai wasn’t really interested in catching the Avatar in order to settle a score—at least not entirely—but it didn’t have anything to do with the cute boy traveling with the Avatar either. Frowning slightly, Ty Lee looked up at the clouds for a moment. Come to think of it, Mai had seemed pretty enthusiastic about ditching the hunt for Zuko in favor of running down the Avatar. So had Ty Lee in all fairness, but she had the excuse of being afraid of Azula. Mai didn’t. Which meant that her aversion to sticking around for Azula’s mission probably had more to do with the mission itself.

With Zuko, probably. Mai had liked him a lot when they were all little, so it stood to reason that she wouldn’t be that excited about hunting him down.

“Maybe,” Ty Lee conceded. “But it’s been a long time since we saw Zuko, so it’s hard to tell if your taste held up.”

Mai jerked the reins just hard enough to ram her mongoose lizard into Ty Lee’s knee. “You shut up about that. I had a crush years ago. Now—things change. I’m over him.”

Strange. The uncertain flickering in her aura still remained, but her tone was much more convincing than it had been back in Omashu. Either Mai had been practicing that denial a lot, or something had changed for real.

“How do you know that? We still haven’t seen him.”

Mai turned a positively frigid glare her way, but rather than answering, motioned toward the grayish smudge of the Avatar’s bison in the sky ahead. “Would you look at that? They’re going the right way after all.” She spurred her mongoose lizard on a little faster so that she pulled ahead of Ty Lee. “Pay attention, Ty Lee. We’re going to get them this time.”

No matter how fast Zuko rode, it didn’t feel like enough. After hours of urging the mongoose lizard faster and faster, its pace was slowing, and the trail of dust rising in the distance behind him seemed to creep ever closer.

Shit.

For a while, he’d tried to tell himself that whoever was back there was only traveling the same direction by coincidence. That maybe there was just a merchant or a messenger of some sort traveling toward the east, and it was their rising trail of dust that happened to be following him. But after a few attempts at throwing the potential pursuers off of his trail, racing down dry, rocky streambeds to avoid leaving tracks, there was no change whatsoever. The cloud of dust still followed him.

Run. Just run.

Sela’s final words echoed through his head on a short loop, and even now, with the sun well past its peak in the sky, Zuko couldn’t help but obey.

Run.

It wasn’t like he had the strength for anything else. With his chest aching and his limbs growing ever heavier from exhaustion, he couldn’t fight. Not for long, anyway. Not long enough to win.

Run.

He couldn’t exactly hide either. The hills that he’d hoped to turn to for shelter were too smooth, too featureless to offer any useful hiding places, and the mountains beyond loomed large but deceptively distant. What at first had seemed like an hours’ ride away had turned into two, then three, and still the prospect of shelter eluded him.

Run.

Vaguely, he found himself wondering whether Sela had meant those words as a warning or as a threat. Whether she’d pushed him to flee out of concern or disgust. Whether she’d anticipated any of villagers or soldiers following him, or whether she’d just wanted the lying firebender gone.

In a way, Zuko almost hoped that it was the former. If it was either the villagers or the Earth Kingdom soldiers chasing him, he might still have a chance—a show of his firebending might be enough to frighten them off, even if he couldn’t withstand a proper fight. But if it wasn’t them, if the people of Xin Jian had decided that their troubles mattered more than one fugitive firebender, then—

Then it was probably Azula back there. And if Azula was that close and still gaining ground, his chances were much, much worse than he thought.

Heart in his throat, Zuko pressed onward, trying and failing to drive his mongoose lizard faster. The trouble was that as much as he wanted to keep running, to carry on until he simply couldn’t anymore, he could sense his lead diminishing minute by endless minute. He could keep pushing himself onward, but a horrible sinking feeling in his gut told him that was a bad idea. That every step forward just brought him closer to collapse—either the mongoose lizard’s or his own.

Shit. If he wanted any chance at making it to tomorrow, he was going to have to make a stand sooner or later. Preferably while he could still stand. He couldn’t fight, but so far, he hadn’t needed to fight Azula. Speed, stealth, and trickery had served him fine before, and the sooner he took that risk, the better he would be able to manage all three.

Objectively, he knew that his chances wouldn’t be good. He’d been lucky the first two times that he’d escaped Azula’s grasp, and luck never stayed on his side for long. But that certainly didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to steer things back in his favor.

Shelter. That was the first thing he needed. He couldn’t expect to hide for long, but a field of boulders or perhaps a cluster of trees might afford him enough cover to duck and dodge attacks that came his way. Enough to buy him moments to think and maneuver, to deceive and distract. To escape, hopefully. And if he found someplace to hide—well, he could hardly plan much deeper than that until he’d found a place worth the risk of stopping.

Zuko carried on as fast as he could, searching his surroundings frantically until at long last, a handful of indistinct brownish gray masses began to take shape in the distance. Houses. His pulse quickened, and he pulled the mongoose lizard’s reins in that direction. Houses would have to do. Nothing better or closer was likely to present itself, and even if it did, he didn’t have the time to consider his options.

By the look of the place as he drew nearer, Zuko guessed that it was probably just a shell of some long-abandoned village—it was all still and quiet enough for that. Alternating waves of relief and dread swept over him at the realization that no one else would have to be dragged into his problems, then that no one else would know if something went terribly wrong out here. If this turned out to be his last stand, no one would ever find out.

Still, he pulled the mongoose lizard to a stop at the front of the first house and dismounted as quickly as he could. Though his ribs ached and he felt slightly unsteady and stiff after so much time in the saddle, he wasted no time in fumbling to loosen the buckles on the saddlebags.  

The mongoose lizard looked back at him once as he worked, and although it felt silly, Zuko offered the creature a small, taut smile.

“Thanks for everything,” he rasped just as the buckle came loose and the saddlebag fell to the ground. “Whatever happens—you really did save me.”

The mongoose lizard, naturally, was unmoved and turned its head away.

Right. Taking the deepest breath he could manage, Zuko scooped up the fallen saddle bag and hefted it over his shoulder with a grimace. There were better things to do than chat with a mongoose lizard in the few minutes of peace he had left. If he could find someplace secure and sturdy to hide, he might at least be able to eat and drink enough to regain a little strength before his world came crashing down around him.

“I don’t like this. We’re too far out in the open. Anyone can see us from here.”

Katara shot a look back at Sokka. “Doesn’t that work to our advantage? We can see a long way too.”

Sokka scowled. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Well, somebody just drank the last of our bending water. Like it or not, we need a refill.” She rooted around through their supplies until she found the last of the spare waterskins and tossed two to Aang and one to Sokka. “Besides, I’m sure Appa could use a break before we go too much farther.”

It would have been a lie to say that those were the only reasons she wanted to stop. With afternoon creeping on toward evening, they were running out of time to keep circling and zigzagging in hopes of finding Toph again. At least staying on the ground for a while might give Toph an idea of where to find them if she decided to come back.

Still, Katara wasn’t terribly optimistic about the prospect. It hadn’t been that long since Toph had left, and while their circuitous flight meant that they hadn’t traveled very far—not so far that Toph wouldn’t be able to reach them if she was really determined—the Fire Nation girls and their weird lizards had been a much more obvious presence on the ground since last night, and Katara could hardly blame anyone for wanting to avoid them.

She dismounted from the saddle and joined the boys to form a tight cluster as they hurried across to a rickety-looking well. The house beside it—and all the others in the area, for that matter—was dilapidated nearly to the point of collapse, and after a brief examination, the well’s mechanisms weren’t any better. The water was still there, though, and without a word, she and Aang began pulling it upward with their bending until it finally ran clear.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” Sokka said, fidgeting around as he scanned the southern horizon beyond Appa. “We’ve gotta get this show back on the road, folks. Come on.”

Aang tossed the first full waterskin his way, then snickered when Sokka didn’t catch it. “For being in such a big hurry, you’re not paying very much attention.”

“Hey! That was unfair. You’ve gotta warn me before you start throwing stuff.”

With a sigh, Katara shook her head and tossed the next full waterskin to him. “Consider yourself warned. And if you’re in that big a rush, can you at least start handing us the empty ones?”

While Sokka grumbled and tried to scoop up the fallen waterskin with his foot, she and Aang filled and corked all the rest.

With the last waterskin in hand, Katara scanned the surrounding landscape again. For all of Sokka’s impatience, this didn’t actually seem like such a bad place to rest for a few minutes. Maybe even an hour, if all went well. To the south and the west, there were miles upon miles of open prairie, the north was interrupted only briefly by the ramshackle remains of an abandoned village before flattening into more of the same, and the east was only slightly less open, breaking first into a series of short, rocky ridges before building up to rolling foothills. From here, she could see a long way in most every direction, and since there were no obvious signs of the Fire Nation girls, maybe waiting here could pay off.

But just was she was about to suggest as much to the boys, there was a burst of scuffling and scraping from the nearest rocky rise, and before she had time to identify the noise, the girls on their two horrid lizard-things surged over the ridge.

The taller girl in the dark-colored robes took the lead, swerving to cut between them and Appa before leaping down from her lizard’s saddle. “It’s about time,” she said blandly. “I was beginning to get bored with all the chasing.”

Oh no. The pink girl skidded in beside her friend mere moments later and vaulted down to the ground just as quickly, cutting off any possible direct retreat toward Appa. They were going to have to fight.

As quickly as she could, Katara slung two of the waterskins over her shoulders and fumbled for the corks. This probably wouldn’t be as bad as it could have been in Omashu—she had access to more water here, her earthbending was ever so slightly improved, and there was much more room to maneuver here than in the dungeons—but she certainly wasn’t thrilled. The fact that these were not her usual waterbending flasks didn’t help much either.

With a twirl of his staff, Aang shot a preemptive blast of air, which unbalanced Pink Girl a little, but the other merely braced herself before producing a blade in each hand.

“Who wants to go down first?” Knife Girl said in an oddly monotonous taunt.

Katara succeeded with the first cork and was about to send a series of blade-like icicles flying in retaliation when a slight tremor ran through the ground and a rock erupted beneath each of the girls, knocking them both onto their backs.

“Thanks so much for volunteering, you two,” a high, cheerful voice called out. “That makes my job really easy.”

Toph? Katara took a step forward to get a better look around Sokka, and sure enough, Toph poked her head up over the rock piles, then jumped down to the level ground. As she landed, she sent another ripple through the earth, this one a bit larger, and both Fire Nation girls’ hands flew out from under them as they tried to rise.

“Huh. I guess you guys weren’t kidding. You really are some kind of trouble magnets.”

Aang’s eyes widened until they looked like they would pop out of his head. “Toph? You really found us? But—how? And are you gonna stay? Katara’s really sorry about what she—”

Katara shot him a glare, not that he seemed to notice. She was not sorry about what she’d said. Sorry that the conversation had turned so harsh so quickly, perhaps, but she’d meant every word. And if Toph still had a problem with that, she probably wouldn’t be here now.

Toph shrugged, seeming to ignore that last bit. “Well, the flying didn’t help, but those two freaks put out plenty of vibrations to make up for it. I’m just glad it was you they were chasing. It would’ve been really awkward otherwise.”

Behind her, Knife Girl rose up to her knees before winding up with another blade, and when Toph showed no sign of reacting—probably unaware of the knives, or at least unable to detect where they were about to be thrown—Katara leapt forward. “Toph!” Instinctively, she kicked a rock up into the air to block the blades before they could find their target.

“What the—”

“That one throws knives,” Katara explained in a rush as Pink Girl scrambled to her feet as well. “The other one can block your bending if she hits you. The catching up can wait.”

A sly, appreciative grin crept across Toph’s face. “Oh, that’s what the flailing was about.” With a twist of her heel and a downward thrust of both fists, she managed to catch Knife Girl’s foot in a crack in the rock, then drove her downward until she was lodged chest-deep in the ground. “Try it again, you beanpole. Oh, what’s the matter? You can’t do anything with your arms pinned? That’ll teach you to go up against the world’s best earthbender.”

Spirits, their day apart really hadn’t made Toph any less exhausting. Not that Katara had expected much change in such a short time, but after some time apart and very little sleep, the boasting was almost overpowering.

“Guys!” Aang shouted just an instant later. “Guys, the other girl is getting away!”

All the frustration evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, and after a very brief chase—Katara and Toph running after Pink Girl while Aang launched himself ahead with his glider to cut her off—Katara managed to snag Pink Girl’s ankle with a waterwhip. Then, almost in the same moment, Toph launched a series of angled stone columns up from the ground, locking Pink Girl in place as she fell.

Okay, so Toph was definitely exhausting, but it was hard to deny that she had the skills to back up her arrogance. Fighting alongside her was actually kind of satisfying.

Sokka caught up seconds after Pink Girl was firmly immobilized and let out a long sigh. “Thank the spirits. I was starting to worry that we were gonna have trouble since I left my club and boomerang in Appa’s saddle.”

“Oh, please,” Toph said. “Like you would be any help in a fight even with a load of weapons.”

As Sokka protested, Katara gathered up the fallen water droplets and circled around until she could meet Pink Girl’s eyes. “What is this all about? Have you been chasing us since Omashu?”

If Pink Girl heard her at all, though, she gave no indication of it. Instead, her eyes went wide and fixed a little too intently on the water hovering around Katara’s hand on its way back into the waterskin. “Omashu? But back there—and just a minute ago too, weren’t you bending—”

Oh. Oh no. That was right. Back in Omashu, Katara had relied entirely on her uncertain earthbending abilities. And while allowing a single Fire Nation girl to see her bending two separate elements wasn’t exactly an admission that she was the Avatar, it wasn’t too far off.

Her own questions forgotten, Katara crouched down and pierced Pink Girl with the iciest glare she could manage. “I don’t know. What did you think I was bending?”

Pink Girl blinked, thoughts obviously whirling behind her big, brown eyes. Was she going to take that as a genuine question or as a threat? Katara had intended the latter—and the fact that anyone aside from the known Avatar could bend two separate elements was unusual enough that it might discourage this girl from spreading the word any farther—but if not, this could be a problem.

As Pink Girl opened her mouth to speak, Katara braced herself to clap a hand over her mouth should anything too near the truth come out.

“I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but your brother is like, really cute.”

What? Katara shot a bewildered look from Pink Girl to Sokka and back again.

“I’m flattered,” Sokka called. “But I’m not really into girls who can knock all the feeling out of my limbs for six hours at a time.”

Toph snickered at that and started to say something utterly disgusting, but Katara did her best to ignore that. Pink Girl had scarcely pulled her eyes away for a moment, and though she wore the exact sort of blisteringly oblivious smile that suited her comment about Sokka perfectly, there was just the faintest flicker of something else underneath it. Fear, maybe? Whatever the reason for the long chase was, it didn’t seem that Pink Girl had had much say in the matter. And she’d taken the opportunity to run as soon as Knife Girl was immobilized too—maybe none of this had anything to do with Pink Girl at all. Maybe someone else had given the order for the Fire Nation girls’ long, ultimately fruitless pursuit.

Trying to ignore the prickling at the back of her neck, Katara pushed back to her feet. She probably wasn’t going to get any answers here anyway, and it didn’t pay to sit around waiting for Pink Girl to guess her real identity. She raised her used waterbending flask a little for the boys to see.

“I think we could do with another refill since we’re still here. No point in leaving with a flask full of dirt when there’s a perfectly good well just over there.”

“Uh—I’d probably reconsider that,” Toph said, catching her by the arm as she passed. “If by ‘well’ you mean the spot where you were all hanging out when I first got here.”

“What do you mean?”

Toph jerked her head back toward all the abandoned buildings. “Back there. There’s a lot of weird vibrations going on.” Releasing Katara’s arm, she crouched to press a palm to the ground. “Fighting, maybe? And it seems like one person is doing a whole lot better at it than the other.”

Katara followed Toph’s gesture with her eyes just in time to catch a small, distant flash of blue light between two of the houses. “Azula?” she breathed.

“A who?”

Sokka darted around them both and vaulted up into the saddle for his club. “Somebody who really shouldn’t see us flying away from here, let’s leave it at that.”

“Oh.” Another wicked smile crossed Toph’s face, and she stood, cracking her knuckles. “Well, I’m ready for another fight if you are. We should be able to take ‘em both, no problem.”

“Come out, Zuzu! I know you’re hiding around here somewhere.”

Her singsongy tone sent chills up his spine, and it was all Zuko could do to take a full breath through the ache in his ribs. Shit. It had been a fragile hope from the beginning, but a part of him had still been clinging to the chance that it might be someone else chasing him—a half-trained Earth Kingdom soldier, or some self-appointed bounty hunter from Xin Jian. But Azula?

Shit. He really was going to die out here.

“I see that you still have my sweet little mongoose lizard with you. How kind of you to return him to me. Though I must say that I expected you of all people to take better care of him.”

Turning sideways, he pressed his head against the wall. Shit. He couldn’t negotiate with her. He probably couldn’t run or hide either—even if she’d made it to the husks of abandoned buildings alone, there would be reinforcements following not long after. But what did that leave? He didn’t want to die. He didn’t have very much left to live for, but he did not want to die in this stupid abandoned village in the middle of nowhere.

“I just want to talk, Zuzu. Come out and we can speak like two rational people.” A short, unsettling pause. “Or if you’d prefer, I can burn this place to the ground, one building at a time.”

On the wall across from him, he could see a flare of brilliant blue light, and his stomach sank yet again. Shit. She was going to do it. As much as he didn’t want to die fighting his own sister in the middle of nowhere, he was even less interested in burning to death. This whole, stupid old town was as dry as tinder. It would go up in an instant if she set her mind to it.

Slowly, very slowly, he pulled himself away from the wall, straightened, and after taking a few shallow breaths to compose himself as well as he could, he stepped out into the street.

“There you are.” Though Azula’s voice and expression were as composed as ever, her hair looked just a bit windswept, and there was a flash of fury shining in her eyes. “My, my, Zuzu. You certainly have a way of wasting everybody’s time.”

“You didn’t have to follow me,” Zuko answered a little weakly. “I never asked—”

“Didn’t you? All those years away at sea—don’t think I wasn’t paying attention. Every move you made was a plea for Father to change his mind. Now that he has, you should be on your knees thanking me for delivering the message.”

He did his best to slow his breathing, but it didn’t seem to work. He wasn’t going home with her. No matter how tempting it might have once been, he was not going back just to give Father the pleasure of killing him in person.

“No matter,” Azula continued, advancing on him one slow step at a time, “This time, you’re going to come with me. Look around you. Your juvenile little tricks won’t work on me again. There’s no poison this time. No way for you to steal my mongoose lizard. Nothing for you to do but behave for once in your miserable life and come along with me back to the Fire Nation.”

Zuko exhaled. Wasn’t there? He couldn’t risk a fight, of course, and Azula was absolutely right that the tricks he’d resorted to in the past wouldn’t work here. It was a different place, different circumstances, and that should mean different avenues for escape.

Ironically, stealing her mongoose lizard a second time didn’t sound half bad. Just because she wasn’t riding it at the moment didn’t mean that it wasn’t near enough to be stolen.

“And what happens if I don’t want to go?” he asked.

“Well, then we’ll simply have to do things the hard way, won’t we?” Raising a hand, she produced a small, violently blue flame. “Father wants you back in one piece, but he never said that piece couldn’t be a little bruised.”

Another slow breath. He had to get out of here one way or another, and if that meant fleeing atop another stolen mongoose lizard, he’d have to make absolutely sure that Azula couldn’t follow him. Which meant that he couldn’t leave his mongoose lizard behind for her to ride. Which meant that somehow, he would have to break away from her. Somehow, he would have to put enough distance between the two of them to reach her mongoose lizard first, sever the ropes or chains tethering it in place, climb into the saddle, and ride away with his own mongoose lizard in tow, all before Azula could reach him.

That was all fine and doable. Probably.

After all, judging by the direction of Azula’s approach, she’d probably left her mongoose lizard relatively near his own. Finding the two creatures standing side by side would make the whole scheme marginally easier.

Only marginally, though.  

“Not that I think the hard way will be terribly challenging.” Azula began circling him slowly, and leaned in uncomfortably close to his scarred ear. “You look ghastly, Zuzu. Hardly in any state to think causing trouble will do you any good. And the swords too—” She laughed, but the cold fury hadn’t left her voice. “Tacky. Don’t you know that it’s unbecoming a Fire Nation prince to rely on commoner’s weapons?”

“I—I’m not sure they’re commoner’s weapons,” he said haltingly. “I think they came from an officer. But Earth Kingdom ranks are—”

“Oh, please. I’d love to hear you make that argument in front of Father. He’d—”

Not allowing himself any extra time to doubt his plan, Zuko gave Azula the most forceful shove he could muster. He waited just long enough to see her beginning to tumble before breaking into a sprint.

His head start didn’t last long, unfortunately—almost before he could make it to the opposite side of the street, Azula was shouting curses after him, and mere seconds later, blue flames billowed after him and footsteps crunched faster and faster across the gravelly street.

Shit. She was quicker than he’d realized, and though her flames had yet to make contact, the heat was intense enough that he could almost feel the hairs on his arms beginning to sizzle. Shit. It was much too late to stop now, and while he did still have the advantage of longer legs to carry him faster, he would probably have to run much, much farther and do a great deal more zigzagging between the buildings to throw Azula off his tracks long enough to make his escape.

But he could do that. He had to now.

Zuko sprinted eastward, away from the mongoose lizards, slowing only briefly to shield himself from her flames before he darted up a rickety set of stairs. If he could just lure her through a few of the half-destroyed houses, the twisting and turning would probably trip her up just enough to give him the time he needed.

Sure enough, Azula thundered up the stairs a few seconds after him, and Zuko veered abruptly to the left, into an open doorway. Now if he could just go through the back, climb or leap to the ground, cut back across through a ground-level room, and turn to the right—

There was an enormous, sickening crack beneath his feet, and before Zuko could understand what was happening, he felt himself falling, then another, equally sickening thud shook his entire body.

His vision flickered, then went black.

“Okay, chumps. They’re sort of in the middle of all these buildings. If we’re gonna catch them both, we’ll have to split up and pin them down in the center.”

As much as Katara would have preferred not to be called a chump, she didn’t need to be told twice. Her one and only encounter with Azula hadn’t told her much, but she knew that Azula was dangerous and crafty. If they wanted to stop her, then it was probably wise to attack quickly and quietly, and from as many angles as possible.

“Which direction do you think they came from?” Sokka asked. “West, maybe?”

Toph frowned. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Can you tell if they rode in, or did they get here on foot?”

“A couple more of those weird lizard things, I think.”

“Perfect.” Before there could be any argument, Sokka took off running in that direction. “Be good, you crazy kids! I’m gonna take out their escape route.”

Toph’s brow creased. “Uh—that’s not what I was going to suggest.”

“It’ll be okay,” Aang inserted helpfully. “He does most of our planning. I’m sure he’s got a great idea.”

Katara rolled her eyes after Sokka’s retreating back. “Or if not a great idea, at least a really distracting one. Let’s just go. I’ll take the northern side of the village.”

Neither Aang nor Toph offered any objection, so the three of them split up, with Toph angling for the south while Aang turned for the eastern end of what must have once been the main street. As Katara ran past the well on her way toward the northern end of town, she drew out as much water as she could manage, twining it in ropes around her arms. Considering how uncertain her earthbending skills still were, it was probably safest to rely on her waterbending, though the fact that her supply was so limited out here was a bit troubling.

Azula, according to everything she’d seen and heard so far, was supposed to be cunning and dangerous. And so far, every serious fight that Katara had faced had afforded her a lot more water to work with.

But that was fine. Katara was a master. She could handle Azula, especially if the arrogance that had seemed so apparent in Chuanxi remained.

What really troubled her was the other person Toph had sensed—the unknown figure supposedly fighting against Azula. Probably someone else from the Fire Nation, if Toph’s guess about the lizard-things was right.

One person is doing a whole lot better than the other.

Realistically, Katara knew that probably meant that Azula had her opponent outmatched, that whoever the stranger was, they wouldn’t pose much of a threat to two Avatars, a master earthbender, and Sokka. But the alternative—the possibility that Azula might be the one out of her depth, and that someone even more dangerous could be somewhere amidst the ruins of the village—that was worrying.

Through a series of gaps and cracks in the walls, there was another flash of blue light and a crackling roar that Katara recognized all too well. The flames had to be intense to make a sound like that.

For just the briefest moment, she paused, scanning the row of crumbling houses ahead. Based on the direction of the flames, she guessed that Azula was only one or two buildings down from her—if Katara cut across into the main street there or just a bit beyond it, she should be able to burst out alongside or just behind Azula. Close enough to land a blow or two, and probably still sheltered enough to run if the retaliation proved too vicious.

But just as Katara sped toward a run again, searching for a suitable break between the houses, there was a horrendous crash from somewhere ahead on her left, and a puff of dusty haze billowed through an open doorway. Her pace slackened again, and she felt her brows furrow.

What on earth was that?

Moving slower, more deliberately than before, she allowed the ropes of water around her arms to lengthen out into whips. Though it took several painfully long seconds after the crash for any sound to reach her at all, she was convinced that someone had to be in there. Whether that was Azula or the other stranger, it was impossible to tell. Especially since everything was so deathly still for a few painfully long seconds.

Almost holding her breath, Katara edged closer, peering through the cracks between the boards as the stillness gave way to shuffling sounds, and an indistinct shadow began to rise and shift in the still-falling dust.

Probably not Azula, she told herself. But the other stranger could be anyone—could be even worse. Quietly, carefully, she let out a breath and strengthened her stance, drawing her water whips back in preparation to strike. As soon as the stranger came near enough to the door, she would strike, and then—

The shadowy figure lurched across the ruined husk of the building, and with a faint, wheezing sound, staggered into the alley in front of her.

As quickly as Katara wound up to strike, her bending faltered, then failed.

He was thinner than she remembered, cheeks pale and pinched. Dust clung to his skin and hair, casting a faint, grayish cast over his whole form, and his clothes were battered and torn. And judging by both his breathing and posture, he was probably hurt.

For the moment, though, Katara hardly noticed any of that.

Breathless, hand shaking ever so slightly, she reached out for him.

“Zuko?”

Chapter Text

He was hallucinating. He had to be.

“Zuko?”

That sounded like her voice. It looked like her hand reaching out toward him too, slender and soft. Even her eyes were the same brilliant, piercing blue he remembered.

But it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

He blinked a few times in an effort to clear his vision, but still her image remained. Delicate fingertips brushed along the collar of his tunic so softly that he could scarcely feel the contact, and her hand stopped just short of his cheek. Like a single touch might make him disappear—or, more likely, make her disappear.

He had to be imagining things. She couldn’t possibly have found him here.

“It’s you.” Her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

It was odd, the details that didn’t quite match his recollection. Katara’s hair, usually distinctive with its two beaded loops hanging on either side of her face, was instead pulled back into a single long braid with only a few stray locks escaping around the edges and no beads whatsoever. Her Water Tribe blues were gone, replaced by what almost resembled the dusty green clothes he’d bought her back on his ship, except these didn’t hang from her like a sack.

How had his mind mixed up so many details? Was that even possible?

From the far side of the ruined house, there was another flash of blue light.

Firebending.

Azula.

Though panic gripped his chest again, and the surge of pain made his vision waver, the recollection came almost as a relief. That, at least, was real. The terror and the agony that came with fighting for his life made sense. Finding Katara now, when he could hardly see straight and wanted nothing more than to curl up into her arms, didn’t.

Zuko turned, catching himself against the wall when his legs threatened to buckle. He’d had a plan. Before the floor collapsed—before the fall had jostled both his ribs and his brain, he’d had some idea of how he was going to escape. Right? Something about misdirection and speed—something about stealing a mongoose lizard and riding away. And—Agni, the thought of trying to run again made him want to retch, but he couldn’t just give up on the plan. It was too late for that. By shoving Azula over, by running away, he’d already committed himself to escaping.

He still had to try.

It wasn’t like a hallucination could save him. And that was all Katara was.

It took everything he had, but after a few steps, Zuko managed to straighten, and by the time he reached the corner, he could almost see straight again. He couldn’t run anymore—everything hurt too much for that—but he could almost remember which direction he’d meant to run, which buildings he’d hoped to use as cover.

He could still see Katara from the corner of his eye as he moved, but he did his best to push past that, to focus. For some reason, Azula hadn’t come looking for him after the fall—maybe she thought he had died—but he couldn’t count on her staying gone for long. She never had before. And since even walking was difficult now, Zuko would have to be even more cautious about keeping out of reach if he wanted to escape alive.

Fighting to quiet his breathing, he crept out around the corner of the house just far enough to peer into the street. At the edge of his vision, Katara still followed along beside him, almost near enough to touch, offering no comment, no objection. Which was good. Hallucinations shouldn’t be talking.

But then there was another flash of blue light from the street and the sound of running footsteps, and Katara threw out a water whip, snagging Azula cleanly around the middle just in time for a stone to come flying in from the far side of the street and send her sprawling.

“Well, isn’t that convenient.” From the alley opposite them, a small girl, an earthbender, apparently, popped up with a grin. “I was gonna focus on the crazy lady first, but you know what they say about two birds and one stone—”

“No, Toph!” Katara shouted, stepping in front of Zuko before the earthbender could make another move. “Not him. Focus on Azula.”

A brief flicker of confusion and disappointment crossed the earthbender’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Party pooper,” she shouted back, and without so much as moving her head, she sent another skull-sized rock sailing Azula’s way.

Zuko’s pulse stuttered, and he had to steady himself against the wall to catch his breath. He was imagining this. Right? He had to be imagining this. Katara couldn’t be here. Not now.

Hallucination or not, Katara shot a worried look back at him, which gave Azula just enough of an opening to shoot a plume of flame her way—or it would have been had Aang not leapt in at the same instant to blow the flames off course. The tip of his staff whizzed uncomfortably near to Zuko’s chest, and as Aang launched himself up and over Azula to avoid her next strike, he shot back a sheepish grin.

“Hi, Zuko! Sorry I almost hit you!”

This all had to be a hallucination.

Right?

With a great force of will, Zuko pushed himself away from the wall. He—he still had a plan. The details of it were growing less distinct even as Katara and Aang and the little earthbending girl refused to flicker, but he thought he could still recall the vague shape of it. Lizards. There was something about lizards, he thought, and running—

A burst of flame came a bit too close, and although it hurt, although it made his vision swim, Zuko threw out his own, somewhat feeble wave of fire to block the next attack. He couldn’t fight, but he had to defend himself as best he could. His plan—or what was left of it—could only save him if he kept himself alive and upright, and not too distracted by the chaos around him.

He tried not to think about it too much when the little earthbender, despite her devastatingly accurate attacks, repeatedly failed to dodge when Azula sent flames roaring her way. He tried not to think about it too much when Katara and Aang positioned themselves slightly in front of both Zuko and the earthbender so that their bending could block the worst of Azula’s flames. He tried not to think about it too much when Katara put aside her waterbending for a while and threw up a large, uneven piece of stone as a shield when the flames grew too intense. He tried not to think about it at all when Sokka finally charged in out of nowhere, riding one of the two mongoose lizards and bellowing at the top of his lungs with his club raised in the air.

Zuko tried not to think about anything. He was still alive, somehow. So long as he kept himself upright and fighting, he might have a chance to stay that way.

He just had to keep standing. He just had to block as many attacks as he could.

He barely noticed when Azula knocked Sokka from the mongoose lizard’s back. He barely noticed when the attacks that Azula threw at the earthbender grew more vicious, forcing the others to shield her when she didn’t recognize the flames coming her way. He barely noticed when Aang mistakenly dropped his staff, and in his panic, bent a rock at Azula instead. He barely even noticed when, after Aang had recovered his staff and Katara had drawn the others into a tighter, more protective cluster, a plume of vibrant red flames roared out from an alleyway.

The red flames meant something, he was dimly aware of that much. But what that meaning might be hovered just out of reach, and when the unrelenting lashes of red fire drove Azula back a few steps, Zuko doubled over, hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. Joining in on the fight had probably been a mistake. Agni, he was going to be sick.

“Zuko? Zuko, look at me, please.” He felt a soft pressure on his shoulder, and someone crouched to his eye level. It took longer than he liked for his eyes to focus enough to recognize Katara. “Hey. Can you still walk?”

He blinked. Katara. She looked so close, so real. Was it possible that she wasn’t a hallucination after all?

A hand cupped his cheek. “I need you to stay close to me. Okay? I think your uncle has Azula handled, but I don’t want to risk you getting separated.”

He felt his forehead crease. Uncle? The red flames—was it possible that that was him?

Though his chest still hurt, though his breathing still came in unsteady gulps, though his eyes still struggled to focus, Zuko pushed himself upright again and staggered blindly in the direction of the flames. Uncle. Whether he was losing his mind or not, he had to see Uncle again.

Just as before, Katara hung close to his side, shooting what might have been looks of worry his way. Zuko didn’t have enough strength left to think about it any deeper than that. It was all he could do to make it far enough down the street to catch a glimpse of Uncle pouring out a stream of steady but immense bursts of fire, driving Azula back one step at a time.  

“This is all your fault,” Azula shouted, sounding a little breathless in the small spaces between traded blows. “If you’d just kept your nose out of it, Zuzu never would have caused this much trouble!”

Sokka, hanging back a little with his club still at the ready, pulled a face. “I have my doubts on that one,” he said, voice just barely loud enough to carry over the roar of the flames.

“You turned him into a traitor,” Azula continued, her face positively contorted with rage as the others stepped forward to join Uncle in cornering her. Even Zuko couldn’t help but follow. “Now what are you planning to do? Kill me?”

This time, rather than attacking, Uncle ignited a semicircle on the ground, pinning her in place in front of a crumbling stone wall. “I am not like your father, Princess Azula. Show your brother mercy, and I will do the same for you.”

The others had begun to fan out around Uncle, helping to pin Azula down, though Katara remained intent on keeping within arm’s length of Zuko. And Azula, trapped between Uncle’s flames and the others’ growing semicircle, looked from Uncle to the others and back again, her brows drawn into an enraged scowl.

“How very generous of you,” she said after a brief, breathless moment. Though the scowl didn’t quite disappear, a wicked smile pulled one corner of her mouth ever so slightly upward. “Fine. I can honor that bargain for now, Uncle.”

Before Zuko could understand what was happening, an almost fluid streak of blinding blue fire arced through the air and straight into Uncle’s chest.

Zuko may as well have been struck at the same instant. As Uncle fell, he forgot how to breathe, and his legs buckled beneath him.

Heartbeats. After that last, intense burst of heat and the flurry of attacks aimed at Azula that followed, everything else faded away into a chaos of overlapping heartbeats, and Toph had to take a second to regain her bearings through all the noise.

There was the old tea guy, Iroh, lying flat on his back where he had fallen, pulse erratic and struggling. Beside him, the other firebender—presumably Katara’s boyfriend—was on his knees, heart beating entirely too fast and breathing in sharp, shallow gulps. And around the two of them, Sokka, Katara, and Aang stood in an uncertain semicircle, hearts racing like they’d all been running for hours.

It felt like they had. Toph didn’t like it, but the fact was that her pulse wasn’t any better.

Her hands clamped into fists. She knew how to fight. She was great at fighting. But this—this felt different. There was still a rush of adrenaline, sure. But while that usually left her feeling euphoric, right now, she felt—jittery. Fighting firebenders was weird. And it definitely didn’t help that the crazy lady had managed to slip away so cleanly that she might pop back up at any moment.

“Argh, dammit!” Sokka kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering across the street. “Where’d she go? Toph, did you see where Azula went?”

She felt a slight urge to joke about his choice of words, but it passed within moments, leaving nothing but the same crawling tension behind. Toph thumped her heel against the ground in an effort to cut through all the terrified heartbeats and into the surrounding streets. At least searching for Azula was a distraction.

“That way,” Toph said, gesturing vaguely back in the direction of the dilapidated well after a few thumps. Pinpointing Azula’s steps was a little tricky, but at least she wasn’t quite as light on her feet as Aang. “Looking for those two goons of hers, if I had to guess. Too bad for her that she’s not getting them out without an earthbender.”

“Okay.” Sokka let out a long breath, then reached up to scratch the back of his head. “So we’ve got—a couple of minutes, then. If we’re lucky. Aang, where’s the bison whistle? Let’s get Appa over here before she tries to blow up our escape plan.”

Toph was vaguely aware of Aang nodding and fumbling through his pockets, but her attention, unfortunately, slipped back toward the two remaining firebenders. With no real part to play in the conversation, it was hard to ignore them. Iroh’s pulse in particular both felt and sounded bad. Really bad.  

Her jaw tightened. She wasn’t a stranger to injuries—people got battered around and got their bones broken in the Earth Rumble all the time. She was used to that. But the injuries she’d noticed there always felt—different. Less severe. The Earth Rumble organizers always got angry if there were injuries severe enough to hamper any of their fighters’ performance, and there were clearly no such limitations here.

Someone could die out here. And it felt an awful lot like Iroh was dying right now.

“Uncle?” Katara’s boyfriend fumbled around a bit with shaking hands before apparently deciding that pressing down on the wound was the best thing to do. Like it was just a cut and all he needed to do was stop the bleeding. “Uncle, wake up.”

He wasn’t going to.

A small knot of bitterness began to build up in Toph’s stomach. Maybe coming back was a mistake. Katara had been right—fighting was different out here. Firebending was strange and inscrutable, and fighting with death on the line, especially against an entirely foreign element, was nothing like sneaking out to the Earth Rumble at night. But the worst thing was that the nice old man who’d made her tea and offered advice just a few hours ago was lying there dying right in front of her, and no one was doing anything about it.

It made her feel sick.

It made her want to scream.

“Zuko?” Katara said softly, kneeling down across from her boyfriend. Her hands closed delicately over his. “Zuko, can you please look at me?”

Where was the use in that? Iroh was dying, and Sokka and Aang were standing around waiting for Appa, and Katara was just trying to make mushy eyes at her boyfriend, and there was nothing that Toph could really do about any of it.

What was it that Katara had said to her the day she’d left? We can help you, but only if you do the same for us? Where was that attitude now? Iroh had helped them all, and no one else was even trying to return the favor!

Zuko shook his head, face still turned downward. “No. No, Uncle, please—”

“Zuko, stop. I need you to listen to me.” Katara’s voice rose a bit, and her hands tightened on his.

Worthless. None of this sentimentality was doing any good. Sure, Katara had had a point yesterday, but she obviously had no idea how to handle a crisis, nor any right to lecture Toph about how dire things could get in war, and—

“Zuko!” This time, Katara took hold of Zuko’s chin and tilted his head forcibly upward. “Let me help.”

For a few seconds, the only sound was Zuko’s breathing, shallow and strained. His shoulders heaved with every breath, and shudders ran up and down his body with the effort of pressing down on the old man’s wound. Then, at last, “K—Katara?”

She nodded, and her thumb briefly stroked his left cheek. “I want to help,” she repeated, voice soft again. “But you have to let me. I can’t heal him if I can’t see where he’s hurt.”

Slowly, as though it caused him physical pain, Zuko pulled his hands back. At almost the same instant, Katara popped her waterskin open, and her hands replaced Zuko’s atop the old man’s wounded chest. And although the gesture seemed every bit as useless—perhaps even more so, since she wasn’t even applying any pressure—something did seem to be changing. Then, after a few more breathless moments, Iroh’s struggling pulse began to steady.

The confused tangle of anger and disgust that had begun to build in Toph’s stomach broke apart, leaving behind a strange, swirling haze of fragmented emotions. What the hell?

On the far side of the street, Appa thumped to the ground with a rumble of greeting.

“Right.” Sokka slung his club over his shoulder and clapped his hands together. “So—how long are we gonna need, Katara?”

“I just started, Sokka. Could you give me at least a minute before you start trying to rush me?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we’ve got a ton of time to work with. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not wait around for Princess Fire Fists to get back.”

The only response that Katara offered was a displeased grunt.

“We could try packing up their things while you’re working on that,” Aang ventured. “I mean—they couldn’t have made it all the way out here emptyhanded, right?”

“Right.” Katara raised her head, and her voice went soft again. “Zuko? Do you have any other supplies with you?”

It seemed to take an age, but finally, Zuko shook his head.

Toph’s confusion had yet to abate, but she, at least, could still form coherent sentences. “The old guy rode in on an ostrich horse,” she said when it became obvious that Zuko either wouldn’t or couldn’t speak. “I’d bet my Earth Rumble belt that all his stuff is still packed in the saddle.”

“I’d be more impressed if you hadn’t left that at home,” Sokka said. But he nodded all the same. “Okay, I’ll go find the ostrich horse. Aang, Toph, one of you stay here to keep watch, and the other can come with me.”

Almost instantaneously, Aang flicked his glider open. “I’ll go.”

Damn it. As the boys took off, Toph crossed her arms. She really didn’t want to stay here. She didn’t like the vibrations that she could sense from Zuko and Iroh, though Iroh’s pulse was admittedly improving. There was nothing pleasant about being able to sense just how close the old man still was to slipping away, not to mention the weird, grating vibrations every time that Zuko breathed. Broken ribs, Toph assumed. Now that Katara was working some kind of weird magic on Iroh’s wound, Zuko’s injuries were becoming a little harder to ignore.

But the unpleasantness of all the obviously pained vibrations were almost bearable in comparison with the confused jumble of feelings swirling around in Toph’s gut.

Katara had been right. About the gravity of war, about the fights themselves being different than the Earth Rumble. And now, apparently, about how to manage the aftermath too. All the whispering to her boyfriend had been necessary to calm him down enough to get to Iroh’s wound, which she could actually heal, somehow, and—ugh.

She almost wished that Katara would take a second to patch her boyfriend up before resuming work on Iroh. The raspy sounds of his breathing were setting her teeth on edge, and that made it really difficult to keep all those thoughts bottled up inside where they belonged.

Thankfully after a few minutes, Katara broke the silence. “That bag is really all you have left?” Then, when her boyfriend seemed not to hear her, she added, “Zuko?”

He jerked as though startled by the sound of his own name. Then, after a few shuddering breaths, he seemed to remember the question and nodded.

Damn. He had to be in some sort of shock if it took that long to come up with a yes or a no.

Katara carried on, apparently undeterred. “What about your uncle? Do you know if he had the rest of your things with him?”

The pause was slightly shorter this time, and Zuko shook his head. “D—don’t know.”

“Did the two of you get separated somewhere along the way? When he showed up, you seemed—surprised, I guess.”

A nod.

“How long ago was that?”

More unsteady breathing, and Zuko’s mouth opened and closed once or twice before he managed, “I—I can’t remember.”  

“About a week,” Toph blurted against her better judgement. She crossed her arms even tighter when she felt Katara’s head rise in her direction. “At least—that’s what the old guy told me this morning.”

“You met General Iroh this morning?”

Toph gave a stiff shrug. “Yeah. How else do you think I knew about the ostrich horse?”

“I guess I assumed that you noticed him riding into town.”

Though that was where Katara stopped, Toph could almost swear that she could still feel questioning eyes lingering on her. Like Katara could sense that there was more to be said about the encounter, but she couldn’t quite figure out how to ask with both the old man and Zuko right there.

Impulse got the better of Toph for a second time. “He made me a cup of tea and laughed when I said he was too old to be traveling without his grandkids.”

“Yeah, that sounds like the general.” With that, Katara put her head back down again.

The words weren’t finished bubbling around in Toph’s mind, though. He convinced me to come back here. He told me about the war. He said a lot of the same things you did.

I told him you were right.

“He wanted me to tell you that he was coming to Tu Zin,” Toph settled for eventually, her voice smaller than she liked. “Looking for his nephew, I guess. But—you know. Sort of seems like that message delivered itself by now.”

“Yeah,” Katara agreed, equally quiet. “But thanks. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you passing it on either way.”

Silently, Toph nodded. A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have agreed—a few minutes ago, she couldn’t have believed that Iroh would be around to appreciate anything. But the improvement now was unmistakable. While the old man’s breathing was still shallow, his pulse had evened out considerably. Enough so that she could almost imagine sharing another cup of tea with him in a day or two.

Zuko, however, didn’t seem to be improving much at all. Which probably made sense, given the lack of a healer to work on the awful grinding in his ribs, but—

Wait a second. Why wasn’t there another healer to work on him? Katara was the Avatar, sure, but the only element that she’d claimed to have mastered so far was water. Aang also knew waterbending. And even if this healing stuff had nothing to do with waterbending, Aang was still the other Avatar. He ought to be able to do whatever Katara could.  

Katara seemed to notice her boyfriend’s uncertain condition too, and her quiet interrogation began all over again.

“Has Azula been chasing you for very long?”

After a prolonged pause, Zuko nodded. “S—since the coast.”

“I was afraid of that. Did you run into her very often?”

“Twice. Then—then today.”

Toph angled herself slightly away from the others, and for the briefest moment, she almost wished that she could shut her eyes and stop seeing things like everyone else. Thankfully, Katara and her boyfriend weren’t being overly mushy—though they probably didn’t have much choice on that front, since Zuko was barely coherent enough to string together full sentences—but the waiting was still uncomfortable. When Momo hopped down from Appa’s saddle, Toph scooped him up from the ground, half to keep him out of the way, and half to keep herself distracted.

It sort of worked. Though Toph couldn’t entirely block out the hushed conversation, she was at least focused enough to feel the vibrations as Sokka came sprinting back down the street, as Aang thumped down alongside Appa and snapped his glider shut.

She’d heard much more of the conversation than she liked, and she was way too aware of Zuko’s pained breathing, but she’d tolerated it, and somehow, that felt like an accomplishment in its own right.

“How’s it going over there?” Sokka called as he hefted a bag up into the saddle. “Aang said that Azula stopped over by her minions for a minute, but we’re not sure where she went from there. And I’d really prefer not to find out what that means.”

With a long sigh, Katara pulled her hands back away from Iroh’s wound. “More time would be nice, but I guess moving him should be fine if we have to. Just be careful.”

“Got it.” Sokka jogged across the street, skidded to a stop on his knees, then tried to hoist Iroh by the shoulders. “Oh boy. He’s at least as heavy as he looks. Toph, Aang, you guys had better get his ankles.”

Toph obeyed. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t take kindly to being bossed around, but for this, she could make an exception. The sooner they all got loaded into the saddle, the sooner they could take off, and the sooner they could begin to put this all behind them.

As soon as she and Aang were in position, the three of them hefted Iroh up from the ground and started toward Appa.

Almost as quickly, there was a horrible, shuddering exhale, and Zuko slumped forward, barely catching his head in his hands. “This—this isn’t fair,” he said, voice hushed enough that he may as well have been speaking to himself.

Toph clenched her jaw as she and the other boys drew even with Appa’s side. Ugh. Either sound traveled way too easily out here, or she needed to work a lot harder at shutting down the part of her brain that liked to eavesdrop.

“What isn’t fair?” Katara asked, barely over a whisper. She slid closer to Zuko and placed a hand softly on his shoulder. “Zuko?”

He shook his head, making no effort to straighten. “This isn’t real. It can’t be. I keep seeing things, and—and I’m so tired, and—”

On the other side of the street, Sokka paused for just a moment before taking the lead up Appa’s broad tail. With the old man hanging limp between the three of them, even that relatively gentle incline was no mean feat—Aang did something weird with his bending that made the old man feel marginally lighter for a few seconds, and when that wasn’t enough, Toph raised a pair of sharply angled stone pillars from the ground to push them the rest of the way up into the saddle. And even then, even when they were all hefting and hoisting with all their might to get Iroh into the saddle and settled, Toph could still sense Sokka and Aang turning their heads back toward Katara and Zuko in the street.

“But it is real.” Katara pushed Zuko upright, and her hand brushed across his cheek. “I’m really here, Zuko. And you’re not going to be alone. I want you to come with me.”

A few seconds of uncomprehending silence passed.

Wiping his forehead, Sokka straightened and turned fully back toward Katara. “Need a hand down there? The sooner we can get moving—”

Toph thought she detected a slight shake of the head, a gesture that seemed to say ‘not yet.’ Without acknowledging Sokka any further, Katara let her hands slip downward to take hold of Zuko’s.

“You can’t stay here, Zuko. You know that, don’t you?”

It took a moment, but he managed a faint nod.

“So come with me. Please.” She lifted both of his hands and cradled them softly between her own. “Even if you don’t believe that we’re really here, what do you have to lose? You need to get away from Azula, and we can take you with us.”

Toph waited just until Zuko struggled his way to his feet with Katara at his elbow to guide him before she sat back against the side of the saddle and pulled Momo into her lap.

The sooner we can get moving, the better.

She couldn’t argue that point if she wanted to. And as the others all made their preparations to depart—Aang at the reins, and Sokka waiting at the back of the saddle to offer Zuko and Katara a hand up if needed—the last of the adrenaline in her veins ebbed away. Toph let out a long, shaky breath and set about scratching Momo’s ears a little more determinedly in the hopes that the motion would hide the growing unsteadiness in her hands.

They were getting away.

They were all going to be safe.  

And deep down, in the quiet recesses of Toph’s mind, dread began to build. Because sooner or later, she was going to have to admit aloud that Katara was right.

Chapter Text

By the time that they landed for the night—having flown northwest until Tu Zin was out of sight before doubling back into the mountains to the east—the sun had dipped below the horizon, and faint pinpricks of starlight began to pierce through the fading lavender of the sky. It was quiet. Peaceful. They were miles and miles from Azula by now, and hours from anyplace that Azula might try to look for them, even by air.

Consciously, Katara knew that this was as safe a place as they could hope to find so soon after leaving Azula behind. They’d chosen a place along a high, gradual ridge—a relatively flat spot where the forest to the north and east gave way to open, boulder-strewn slopes to the south and west. From their place tucked into the edge of the treeline, they could stay relatively hidden from sight without sacrificing their own ability to see or escape, and yet Katara’s stomach remained in knots.

So much had gone wrong already today. What was stopping things from taking another turn for the worse?

“All ready down there?” Sokka called from his place on Appa’s back.

With a sigh, she nodded and rose. “As ready as it’s going to get.” A single folded blanket on the ground wouldn’t make for a very comfortable bed, but given their limited supplies and the sudden addition of two people to the group, it was the best that they could do.

“Alright, then. Lift on three, just like last time.” At Sokka’s count, he, Toph, and Aang hoisted General Iroh from the saddle.

Crossing her arms against the gathering evening chill, Katara stepped back from the makeshift bed, and her eyes fell on Zuko. Okay, maybe she was just being dramatic about things going wrong. In fact, she knew that she was. Whatever else had happened today, she’d found Zuko. He was alive. He was safe.

He was, at the moment, huddled at the base of a tree, head down and knees hugged tight to his chest, occasionally listing to one side or the other almost as though he was seasick.

That was nothing she couldn’t fix, though. She’d healed his uncle. Between the first few minutes on the ground and what felt like several hours of additional work once they were up in the air, she’d mended the old man’s burn wound so thoroughly that even if she never touched it again, it seemed unlikely to leave a scar. And there was no reason she shouldn’t be able to manage whatever had happened to Zuko on top of that.

Carefully, quietly, she knelt across from him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. How are you doing?”

When there was no response save for a shallow, shuddering breath, she tilted his head back and allowed her fingers to trail ever so softly through his hair, through the place where his ponytail used to be. She wondered when he’d cut it. Why, after so much time, and so many efforts to defend it, he’d finally decided to sever that last tie to his home and his father.

“Zuko?” she said, barely over a whisper. “Can you hear me?”

Eyes glassy and unfocused, he tried to meet her gaze. It didn’t exactly work, but the effort was obvious. “U—uncle,” he rasped. “Is Uncle going to be okay?”

A nod. “He will. He just needs some time to rest.” She cupped a hand around his scarred cheek. “Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

For a few seconds, he gave no response. But then his brows furrowed, and he dropped his head to his knees again, almost as though he couldn’t bear to remain upright any longer. As though the exhaustion or the pain or some combination of both was finally proving too much for him.

Katara’s throat constricted painfully, and her grip shifted to his shoulders. “Zuko, please talk to me. I just need to know what happened to you. Okay? I can help. You know that.” Her voice wavered, and she could feel moisture gathering around the rims of her eyes. Frustrated, she swiped at them with her sleeve. Tears were useless right now. Right now, she just needed him to be okay. And she couldn’t fix anything if she allowed herself to break. “Please let me help you.”

From behind her, there were a handful of shuffling sounds followed by a series of soft thumps. “It’s way too late to worry about tents tonight,” Sokka announced. “Same for campfires. So if anyone’s hungry, grab a fistful of jerky. If not, it’s sleeping bag time.”

Toph grumbled a. “I walked all night and all day to help you losers out, and you’re not even going to cook me a hot meal as thanks?”

“For your information, we had to keep flying that entire time to avoid Pinky and Knife Girl. So, no. Cooking is a tomorrow problem.”

“I think we have some leftover travel biscuits,” Aang said helpfully. “And maybe a couple of pepper pears—”

Zuko still wouldn’t answer her. Or he couldn’t. It was impossible to tell for sure which. The threads of anxiety that had been running through Katara’s chest tightened into something approaching panic, and she drew a breath in hopes of calming herself. Fine. This was all going to be fine—there was no reason she couldn’t find his injuries herself. She’d had more than enough practice with uncommunicative and unconscious patients back in the healing huts. The process would just be slower. She could still do it.

She could.

She uncorked the waterskin at her hip, but only a few droplets responded to her bending. Right. She’d exhausted most of her water in the fight, used up most of this waterskin on healing the general, and the last remaining waterskin—

“Sokka,” she called. “Do you have any water left?”

From where he’d spread out his sleeping bag under a nearby tree, Sokka rolled his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at her. “Am I supposed to? There were three of us sharing it. Didn’t take long to drink that much water.”

The threads inside Katara’s chest tightened again. No water left. Which wasn’t the end of the world—even from here, she could sense a stream running through the forest just down the northern side of the ridge. There was water to be found here.

But that, somehow, didn’t stop the threads from tightening inside her chest, didn’t help the painful lump that had risen in her throat. Wordless, she shoved herself to her feet and turned for the stream.

She could do this. She could fix everything.

She had to.

Though Katara fought against the tightness in her throat, it only seemed to spread. So much so that by the time she reached the water’s edge, her cheeks were slick with tears, and her hands fumbled with the cork of her waterskin.

Zuko was here. He was alive, he was safe, and he was free of his sister’s grasp. That was all she’d really asked for. All that they really needed.

Katara choked on a sob. Deep down, though, this wasn’t what she wanted. Though she’d fought for weeks to avoid imagining the specifics of their eventual reunion for fear of getting her hopes up, she’d envisioned more. She’d envisioned herself running into Zuko’s arms, and the gentle warmth of his hands pulling her in closer. She’d envisioned burying her face into his shoulder to hide her happy tears before looking up to find him smiling back at her. She’d envisioned holding his hand all the way back to Appa, then sitting so close that their knees almost touched until at last they fell asleep, side-by-side with their hands brushing together.

She’d envisioned joy. Not—this.

Pull yourself together, she ordered herself. You’re being selfish. It doesn’t matter if finding him felt different than you imagined. He’s here and he needs you.

But the tears weren’t so easily quelled. She rinsed the inside of her waterskin a few times before filling it properly, and even then, occasional sobs tore their way loose. Spirits, she wasn’t going to be able to do any healing at this rate. With the way her hands were shaking and the tears continued sliding down her face, she would—

“Hey, Sugar Queen.”

She jumped and whipped back around to find Toph standing just a few paces behind her, a stark, pale blotch in the rapidly darkening forest. “What?” she demanded, hastily wiping at her eyes even though Toph couldn’t see the tears. “What do you want?”

Arms crossed and expression inscrutable, Toph replied, “Your boyfriend is hurt.”

Boyfriend. What else had Katara been expecting? Of course Toph was only here to mock.

“Shocking,” she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut despite the tears still streaming down her face. “What do think I needed the extra water for?”

Toph didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she turned her head slightly to the side, mouth set in a thin line, and shifted from one foot to the other. Then, “So, uh—healing. That’s just a thing you know how to do? Like, you put some water on someone, and they just get better?”

A sharp exhale whistled past Katara’s teeth, and she shook her head. “I don’t have time for this,” she said. With another shaky breath, she swiped the tears from her face and made to brush past Toph. Let the others see her cry. At least they weren’t so likely to tease her for it. “I still need to figure out what’s wrong so I can help Zuko.”

Just as she made to pass, though, Toph’s hand closed around her wrist. “His ribs,” she said, so abruptly that the words were barely recognizable.

Katara stopped, brows furrowing. “What?”

As quickly as she’d reached out, Toph pulled back again, folding her arms and angling her head away. “I said it’s his ribs. You know—the bony shit that keeps all the soft bits from getting out of your chest?” She paused as if to steel herself, but if anything, her voice was smaller when she resumed. “His are broken.”

For several long seconds, all Katara could do was stare, her lips slightly parted. Broken ribs. That actually did make sense. Quite a lot of sense. She remembered the horrible crashing sound and the cloud of dust that had rolled out of the house in Tu Zin—that could easily have been when it happened. In a rundown building like that, the floor could have collapsed, sending Zuko plummeting into an unfortunate heap at the bottom. That could explain the unsteady, wheezing quality of his breathing when she’d first found him, the stiffness in all his movements afterward. That could explain the pain in his expression despite the lack of any visible blood or limping.

That could also be a very real problem. Katara could mend broken bone, but she’d never attempted it without help. Especially not on a day like this one, when she had already spent so much time, so much effort on both fighting and healing.

“Somewhere around here,” Toph elaborated, tracing a large, uneven circle beneath her right armpit and back toward her spine. “But I guess I don’t know how much difference that makes.”

Relatively little. If Toph was right, knowing what part of Zuko’s ribs needed healing would only save a handful of seconds examining him. But that wasn’t the part that caught Katara’s notice anyway. “How—how do you know that?”

“I see through vibrations.” Once again, Toph crossed her arms tight, but this time, the discomfort in her stance was much more obvious. “I’ll give you three guesses what bones do after they break.”

Oh. Just the thought was enough to set her teeth on edge. No wonder Zuko seemed so miserable. Every breath had to be agony. Tears welled in Katara’s eyes again, and she hastily wiped at them.

“I wish he’d told me that. Even with his uncle being hurt, I could have taken the time to heal Zuko hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t.” Though there was a hard edge to Toph’s voice, it didn’t sound unkind. Just blunt. Very blunt. “Doesn’t seem smart to me, but at least it’s not the kind of stupidity that gets anyone else hurt.”

He isn’t stupid, Katara wanted to say. And he wasn’t. Far from it, but he did, unfortunately, have a glaring lack of self-preservation. He always had. And Toph would probably consider that stupid in itself.

Instead, she drew an unsteady breath and swallowed back her tears. “We can work on that once he’s feeling better. And, um—thanks. For telling me what’s wrong.” A second shaky inhalation. “I’ll do my best to get him fixed up before I go to sleep.”

Just as she turned back toward camp, though, Toph stopped her again.

“Katara, I—uh—”

“Yeah?”

Frowning, Toph scuffed a foot against the ground. Her mouth opened once or twice, wordless, until at last, she burst out with, “Why the fuck are you the only one doing the healing?”

Katara blinked. That definitely wasn’t what she’d meant to say. At least not at first.

“What?”

“Healing is a waterbending thing, right?”

Katara nodded slowly.

“So why isn’t Aang helping? He’s a waterbender too.”

For such a simple question, it took an inordinate amount of time to find an answer. “Well—not all waterbending is healing. You sort of have to go out of your way to learn it.”

“Which you did.”

“Sort of. I didn’t really get a choice. At the North Pole, boys learn to fight, and girls learn to heal. I only got an exception to do both because the combat bending master was in love with my grandmother sixty years ago. And—I don’t know. I guess getting Aang into healing lessons never really came up.”

“Yeah, well—you’re not at the North Pole anymore. If he can learn healing, he should. There’s no one around to enforce any of those dumb rules here.”

Spirits, Katara wished it were as easy as Toph made it sound. A second healer—whether that were Aang or anyone else—would have made today so much simpler. With a second healer, Zuko’s ribs could have been mended by now.

“Let me know if you can think of a way to squeeze in another bending lesson without losing his focus,” Katara said a little dryly. “Until then, I think I’m better off focusing on his combat waterbending. At least we’ll always have a way to practice that.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the now-darkened forest and the faint glimmers of starlight shining through the trees. “With any luck, we’ll be done with healing altogether in a couple of days.”

This time when she turned to go, Toph made no attempt to stop her. Slowly, her eyes and limbs both heavier than she remembered, Katara started back up the ridge toward camp.

For a while after Katara left, Toph remained where she was, crouching by the side of the stream to allow her fingertips to trail through the frigid water. She’d never been a big fan of the stuff—fast flowing water especially—but tonight, its constant rushing vibrations weren’t so bad. The noise and motion of the stream was enough to drown out the vibrations from camp, if nothing else. And after several hours hearing and feeling the effects of Iroh and Zuko’s injuries, she’d definitely earned a few minutes of quiet.

With a sigh and a frown, Toph crossed one arm across her knees and lowered her head until her chin rested atop it. This was all so weird. Yesterday, she’d run away from the others over an argument. Not even an argument, really. A spat, at most. And now, despite the terrifying fight with Azula, despite the sudden arrival of the very firebending allies she’d been so averse to meeting, even despite the fact that she’d almost witnessed a nice old man’s death, she didn’t want to leave anymore. She hadn’t even considered it.

It was weird. All the danger, all the responsibility that had driven her to run in the first place was so much more tangible now. So much more real. The fact that Katara could do her little healing thing if things went wrong didn’t really come close to counteracting the peril either. But still, being here felt sort of—right. Like maybe all Aang’s stupid talk about swamp visions and destiny weren’t entirely nonsense.

Not that Toph would ever admit to that. Aang’s weird, mystical ideas didn’t need any encouragement anyway. What Katara had said in their argument, on the other hand—

Ugh. Toph dropped her head to her knees and wrapped both arms around them. The fact that she’d chickened out of admitting Katara had a point was embarrassing. Toph wasn’t a chicken. She could admit when she’d been wrong, and she knew how to apologize when necessary. Still, she’d flaked out at the last second to ask about Aang not helping with the healing stuff, and now she couldn’t tell how much it even mattered anymore. She’d come back, thrown herself into the fighting with all the skill and ferocity that she had, and she’d even done what little she could to make this whole healing business easier. All that combined felt like a peace offering. A peace offering that Katara seemed to accept.

Wasn’t that enough? There wasn’t really any reason for Toph to go out of her way and admit fault now, right?

Of course there is, a small voice said in the back of her mind. You’re not a chicken. If you’re really going to stay and work with these dorks, the least you can do is make sure the air is clear between you.

Toph let out an audible groan, grateful that the stream was there to sweep the sound away. Fine. Fine, she would find a chance at some point to bring the subject back up and properly clear the air with Katara. Just not tonight. Today had been trying enough without jumping into yet another touchy conversation.

She lasted another few minutes by the edge of the stream before the evening chill grew a bit too strong, and she started back for camp.

Snores greeted her as she made her way into the clearing, and for a moment, Toph’s shoulders relaxed. Snoring meant that the others were asleep. And the others being asleep meant that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone until morning, when they were all better rested.

But then, as Toph picked her way over to where her pack lay beside Appa, another set of vibrations cut through the snoring. Katara, at least, was still awake. And she seemed to be—crying, maybe?

Against her better judgement, Toph dropped her pack again and marched a few steps closer. “What’s the problem now?”

Katara’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice, and there was a bit of sniffling and face-wiping before she found the words to respond. “Oh, Toph. Could—could you help me move him?”

Well, that could have been a lot worse. Her boyfriend, despite being significantly taller than Iroh, was nowhere near as heavy.

“He’s asleep,” Katara rambled on, voice unsteady. “And I can’t get to the place where his ribs are broken like this, and when I try to move him myself, his breathing starts to sound really bad, and—”

Yeah, that figured. Rather than lying down to sleep like a normal person, Zuko had curled up between two roots of a tree and dozed off while still sitting mostly upright, his injured side braced up against the tree. Wordless, Toph raised a slab of earth behind him to pull him out of the little hollow between the roots, then slid the whole section of ground out away from the tree until there was space enough to lie him back down.

“There. Anything else?”

Katara shook her head. “No. Thanks, Toph. I can manage from here.”

Could she? It was a little difficult to judge her truthfulness when her voice was so wobbly from crying, but that very wobbliness gave Toph pause. Surely it couldn’t be a good thing if a healer’s hands were all shaky from a combination of exhaustion and emotion.

For a few long seconds, she remained where she was, focusing intently on the vibrations carrying through the hard-packed ground. There was, as she’d suspected, quite a lot of unsteadiness and uncertainty in Katara’s movements by now. She fumbled in her attempts to roll Zuko onto his side without disrupting his broken ribs too much, she fumbled with the cork of her waterskin, then seemingly with the water itself. Toph didn’t know much about healing, much less what mending broken bones entailed, but this seemed like a recipe for disaster. Or disappointment, at the very least.

“Hey, Katara?”

Katara jumped. “What?”

“Are you actually gonna be able to do this? Heal his ribs, I mean?”

Her head shot upward. “What?” she demanded again.

Toph threw her arms out to the sides in an enormously exaggerated shrug. “I’m just saying that it’s been a really long day. If there’s a chance that you won’t be able to get it right, then wait. He’ll still be here tomorrow.” Her arms crossed tight across her chest. “And you’re the only one here who knows how to do this healing stuff, apparently. What’s the point in grinding yourself down doing a half-assed healing job when you’re the one who’s gonna have to fix it tomorrow anyway?”

A few seconds of silence passed as Katara opened and closed her mouth in what was probably shock. In what probably would give way to anger in a moment or two. Toph braced herself. She certainly wasn’t afraid of another argument, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood either. She’d had a very, very long day too.

But rather than snapping, Katara exhaled so deeply that she practically deflated, dropping from kneeling to sitting, and pulling one knee to her chest in the same movement. “This just—this isn’t the way I wanted to find him.”

No kidding. Toph was less convinced now than she had been a few hours ago that Katara had been planning to greet her boyfriend with a bunch of sloppy smooches—the fact that there hadn’t been any kissing seemed like a pretty decent indication of that—but it was still safe to assume that Zuko’s current state hadn’t been on anyone’s wish list. The only real positive Toph could sense was the fact that in rolling him onto his side, Katara had taken the pressure off of his injury, allowing both his breathing and the grating vibrations in his chest to ease somewhat.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t how I imagined leaving home would go either,” Toph admitted, barely loud enough for her voice to carry across the clearing. With a sigh, she turned slightly away. “But—you know. We’re all still here. We’ll all be here tomorrow too. There’s still time for things to go better.”

“You think so?”

Considering the fact that Katara’s head was still aimed firmly in Zuko’s direction, it was pretty clear what she meant. “Yeah. I mean, broken ribs suck, but they’re not usually deadly. Plus, I’m pretty sure he was running around like that when the fight first started. If he hasn’t keeled over yet, he probably isn’t going to.”

A small, unsteady breath. “Somehow, I don’t find that very encouraging.”

“I wasn’t trying to encourage you.” Toph turned fully away this time and felt around for the dense folds of her woolen blankets inside her pack. The breeze was getting colder as night descended, and her own will to resist sleep was dwindling just as quickly as the daytime heat. “Just telling the truth. And I think the truth is that you’re way too focused about getting everything fixed immediately.”

“Spoken like a true earthbender.” Katara ran a tired hand down the side of her face, then brushed delicately at Zuko’s hair. “Good night, Toph.”

“You’re gonna try to heal him anyway, aren’t you?”

The weight of the pause that followed told her all she needed to know, but after a few moments’ silence, Katara answered regardless. “I just want him to be okay. I won’t take any stupid risks, but if there’s some way I can help, I will.”

It was hard to tell whether that was stupid or admirable. Possibly both?

With another long sigh, Toph yanked her blankets free from her pack and flopped theatrically onto her back so that the blankets took a second or two to settle into place over her. “Fine. Suit yourself, you busybody.”

At long last, the conversation died there, but as tired as she was, Toph didn’t fall asleep immediately. Instead, she lay still on her back, buried under a small mound of blankets, eyes lightly closed and with one foot still pressed against the ground. Keeping watch, she told herself, in case Azula was more adept at tracking than any of them had guessed. In case Azula had decided to forgo freeing her goons from their rocky prisons in favor of chasing their whole group alone.

That was what she told herself, at least. In reality, she merely sensed Katara pulling out her water again and pressing it to Zuko’s side—long enough to set the broken bones back in place, but not much longer than that. She sensed Katara rummaging through the remaining pile of supplies, tucking something soft under Zuko’s head, then draping him in blankets. She sensed Katara beginning to shiver as she sat alongside Zuko for a few quiet minutes, then sensed Momo creeping up to claim a spot sleeping by Zuko’s stomach. It was only after that, after Katara finally gave in and dragged her sleeping bag over to lie down next to her boyfriend, that Toph let her leg drop to the ground and slipped off toward sleep.

Chapter Text

The first thing Zuko became aware of was the snoring. Uncle’s snoring. Even with his eyes still closed and his mind still submerged in a haze, the sound was unmistakable.

With that realization, he felt himself beginning to fade again. If Uncle was here, it didn’t matter where he was or how he’d gotten there. If Uncle was here, it was safe. And if it was safe, he could rest.

But then a second, higher pitched, almost whistling snore followed, and the fog began to lift from his mind. The ground was hard beneath his shoulder, but his head rested against something soft, and heavy, warm blankets lay across his shoulders. And there was a smallish weight resting against his arm—when a second high pitched snore came, Zuko realized that the thing resting against his arm was the source of the sound.

He struggled to open his eyes, closed them against the brightness that greeted him, then drew a slow, shallow breath before attempting another look. There was blue beneath his head, grays draped across him, and a blotch of something white and fuzzy pressed up against his arm. He had to close his eyes against the light again, but the patches of color—the blue in particular—set a slow trickle of memories loose from the back of his mind. His pulse quickened, and he blinked and squinted until his eyes finally agreed to focus.

The white, snoring lump resting against his arm was Momo, curled up into a near-perfect ball with his tail draped over his nose. And though it took a few moments longer to recognize the blue thing cushioning Zuko’s head, the embroidered strip along the edge opened the gates in his mind, turning the trickle of memories into a flood. Katara’s parka. His head was resting atop Katara’s folded parka, and Momo was sleeping beside him, and upon a second look, there was an empty Water Tribe sleeping bag bunched up just a pace or two farther away, and—Zuko jolted upright.

His ribs protested the movement, and a surge of dizziness struck him between the eyes, but he braced himself up on his hands rather than succumbing and lying back down. He remembered. Or he thought he did. He remembered Azula and fire and running. He remembered sprinting up a rickety set of stairs and a cracking sound and falling. He remembered Katara. He remembered Uncle too. The details were cloudy, and he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten from that old, deserted shell of a town to—wherever he was now, but he had seen them both.

And now, in the watery morning light, everything around him seemed set on confirming those memories. To his right, Uncle lay flat on his back, buried in blankets and snoring peacefully, and across the clearing, Appa munched on the scraggly undergrowth, belly still flat against the ground. The only missing parts were Katara, Sokka, and Aang, but enough of their belongings lay scattered around the clearing to leave him relatively convinced that they had to be around somewhere. There was an unfamiliar pack half-covered by an emerald green cloak too—hadn’t there been an earthbender too? A girl, he thought, smaller than even Aang. Where had she come from?

A bit unsteadily, he pushed to his feet and braced himself briefly against the nearest tree. He still ached, and moving too quickly made his head spin, but if anything, it was a wonder that he didn’t feel worse. He was upright. He could breathe, albeit with some wincing. He was, at least in comparison with what he remembered and expected, fine.

From a bit farther back in the trees—a more sheltered section of the clearing, he guessed—there was a pale tendril of rising smoke, and after a slow inhale, he ventured toward it.

“Hey.”

Though he probably should have expected it, Zuko jumped at the sound of the voice. Heart racing a little too fast, he turned to find Sokka reclined against the base of a tree. The same tree that Zuko had just braced himself against moments ago, only on the opposite side.

For what felt like a long time but might have been mere seconds, they both stared at each other. Sokka, however, seemed relatively unsurprised and unbothered by Zuko’s sudden emergence, and after a few surveying looks up and down, he yawned and raised a hand in the air.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Zuko blinked. Then, too confused for questions, he answered, “Three.”

Sokka glanced at his own hand as if to double check his counting, then shrugged and poked halfheartedly at the campfire with a long stick. “Better than last night. Guess you didn’t knock your brain entirely loose, then.”

Last night. There were brief snatches of memory that Zuko could still dredge up from last night, but after his fall, after seeing Katara for the first time, everything else broke down into strange, abstracted shards. He remembered fire, he remembered Uncle falling, and he remembered the empty husk of the abandoned village suddenly looking very small and very distant below him. Agni. If that was all he could remember, he could only imagine how he must have acted. Even now, it was difficult to find the words he wanted.

“Breakfast isn’t ready yet,” Sokka said, possibly mistaking the look on Zuko’s face for hunger. Or maybe Sokka was just hungry himself—either seemed possible. “It’ll probably be another half hour or so? I’m not sure. Katara makes me cook, but don’t think for a second that that means I know what I’m doing.”

Okay, that was probably directed at Zuko. He swallowed hard, scanning around the clearing for any sign of the others before he dared to answer. “That’s fine.” He was hungry now that he thought about it, but food was hardly his greatest concern at the moment. “Where—where is everyone else?”

Almost automatically, Sokka pointed down the western slope, toward where the scraggly line of trees keeping them sheltered gave way to a steep, grassy hillside. “Toph and Aang are down there. I wouldn’t advise interrupting them because Toph will throw rocks at you. And Katara said she’d be back in a minute, but that was probably ten minutes ago now.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “My guess is that she decided to wash her hair or something so that I would have to finish cooking all by myself. She’s sneaky like that.”

“Or—maybe she just wanted to wash her hair?”

Sokka seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Nah, that’s just what she wants me to think. I know chore-dodging when I see it.” Yawning, he reclined against the tree again. “She’s not even having an earthbending lesson today. It’s cheating, that’s what it is.”

Katara was learning earthbending. Zuko wasn’t sure why that surprised him—it shouldn’t—but his mind still struggled with the notion. Katara was learning earthbending. In the time since he’d been gone, he wondered how far she’d progressed. How much he had missed. She was an incredible bender, so no doubt her progress would be quick. Had she mastered a whole new element while he’d been lost and fleeing his own sister?

His throat tightened inexplicably, and he had to look away to collect himself before he spoke again. “Is there water around here somewhere? A stream or a pond—I should try to clean myself up.”

For some reason, Sokka narrowed his eyes. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “But if you have to do it now, make sure you go that way. I don’t want you peeping on my sister.” He pointed due north, where the trees grew a bit denser on their downward slope.

It took a moment for Zuko to grasp exactly what Sokka meant, and when he did, his face went hot. He shot an involuntary glance toward the slightly less dense forest on the eastern slope where Katara must have gone before pulling his gaze away again. “Right. I’ll—I’ll just—”

Words failed him, and he turned hastily down the northern slope. Agni, he wasn’t used to people anymore. Or maybe it was just Sokka. The sheer nonchalance in his manner was a little destabilizing when the gaps between what Zuko remembered of yesterday and the reality of today were so large and so strange. He remembered fleeing across the dusty prairie, but now he found himself atop a forested mountain ridge. He remembered being lost and alone, but he wasn’t—well, he wasn’t alone anymore. He still felt a bit lost. The gaps in his memory made that almost inevitable.

It took a little longer than he expected to reach the edge of the stream. Long enough that Momo had time to catch up and chatter at him like he was trying to hold a conversation without words. Zuko raised his eyebrow at the lemur, then when the chattering stopped, he said, “Are you finished?”

Momo began chattering again.

With a sigh and some wincing, Zuko crouched alongside the stream and pulled off his tunic. It was a bit cold to bathe himself properly, but he only had one set of clothes left. This wasn’t the North Pole—there were no armories to raid for spare tunics. If he couldn’t bring himself to plunge into a mountain stream, the least he could do for now was wash out what grime he could.

Scrubbing his clothes clean took more effort than seemed reasonable or necessary, as did the process of steaming his pants dry, so he draped his tunic over a nearby branch to dry on its own while he crouched a second time to clean himself as well as possible. Every splash of near-freezing water felt like a knife against his skin, and he had to pause several times when the shivering awakened the pain in his ribs. Which did cut through the surrealness of the morning to some degree, leaving the world a little sharper, a little harder than before.

He only had one set of clothes. Only one blanket that really belonged to him, a few coins, his canteens, the stolen swords—and that was it. No tent, no cooking supplies, almost nothing of use that he could offer the others. His stomach twisted. Sure, he’d survived that way for a few days. He would have carried on the same way had Azula and the others not caught up with him. But living on such meager supplies was miserable. Unrealistic too, when he wasn’t spending most of his time frantically traveling as far and as fast as he could.

Part of him, the logical part, thought the others wouldn’t expect him to. Uncle and Katara especially would probably realize how few possessions he had left and step in to make sure that he had enough to get by. But another part of him, the part that still had trouble believing any of this was real, insisted on sending tendrils of doubt snaking through his chest. What if this wasn’t real? What if that was the reason he had yet to see Katara or speak to Uncle? What if he was as alone now as he had been for the past several days?

Or even worse, what if this was all real, but no one wanted him anymore? It wouldn’t be surprising. He was stiff and sore and weak—hardly in any condition to look after himself, much less to offer the kind of help that might serve as just repayment. And Azula was chasing him. There would be no escaping that fact. Azula was chasing him, and the others didn’t deserve that kind of trouble. They hadn’t done anything wrong. And he, at the very least, had prodded and provoked enough to bring the fury down on his own head.

Realistically, the others would be safer without him. Wouldn’t they? And if he didn’t have the strength to repay their kindness any other way, then maybe—maybe that was his best option.

Though his stomach was empty, the idea sent a wave of nausea through him. It was possible. Of course it was possible that the others might deem it wise to send him away. He couldn’t blame them if that were the case. But the thought of it, just the idea of being alone again, was enough to make him feel sick.

He couldn’t bear another splash of cold water, so he struggled to his feet and fumbled to free his still-damp tunic from its branch. Momo had begun chittering again, but he did his best to ignore that. Even if the others didn’t want him, he had to at least stay long enough to be sure that Uncle was okay. He didn’t have the strength to strike out on his own, even if he wanted to. Right now, just getting back to camp seemed daunting. But the doubts, the worries were still there, cold and inescapable.

With some difficulty, he pulled his tunic around his shoulders and set his mind to steaming out the remaining moisture when Momo chattered again. This time, though, he couldn’t quite bring himself to ignore the noise. Because this time, the chattering was quickly followed by the snap of a twig, and a soft, familiar voice.

“Zuko?”

“No need to thank me. If giving you a day off means there’s a chance I can get this airhead a little closer to catching up, it’ll be worth it. The individual lessons are a drag if I’m being honest. The sooner you two are on the same page, the better.”

Katara still wasn’t sure how convinced she was—or how convinced she should be—of Toph’s intentions in giving her a day off from lessons. On the one hand, it made sense. Aang had successfully gotten a rock to move yesterday in their fight against Azula, which meant that his lessons would very likely spike in their productivity. And it would be easier on everyone if their earthbending lessons could eventually be combined. That alone could save hours every single day.

But on the other hand, Katara hadn’t forgotten yesterday. She hadn’t forgotten the slight, uncomfortable shifts in Toph’s stance or all her questions about healing. She remembered all of it, and with the benefit of a decent night’s rest, she had begun to draw some conclusions. Firstly, that a decent portion of Toph’s bravado was really just a defense, a distraction. That underneath all the brashness, there was very likely a soft, vulnerable core. And secondly, that sensing Zuko and Iroh’s injuries had probably struck at one of those vulnerabilities. Even if Toph pretended not to care—even if she didn’t care about Zuko or Iroh at all—at the very least, she seemed uncomfortable knowing that they were hurt and would prefer them both to be healed as soon as possible.

Privately, Katara hoped that her suspicions were right. She hoped that Toph cared, at least a little. But for today, at least, it probably didn’t matter. Katara wasn’t going to argue over a day off from her earthbending lessons. She had healing to do, and whether it was Toph’s intention or not, the spare time from her cancelled lesson would serve the purpose perfectly well.  

She was just going to have a quick wash at the stream first. Zuko had still been fast asleep beside her when she’d woken up, his breathing and pulse both steady and his expression peaceful. As long as he was sleeping, a few minutes couldn’t hurt. And if she was lucky, stepping away for a few minutes before he woke might mean less time apart after.

With her bending, she pulled a mass of water from the stream to rinse the dust from her hair. As much as she hated to admit it, Toph’s advice to rest last night rather than pushing herself to heal Zuko completely seemed to have paid off. She felt better now than she had last night. Less desperate. Less panicked. Zuko was here. He was safe. And while he did still need healing, while mending bones was still a tricky endeavor for her to tackle alone, they had time. As long as he felt better, she didn’t care how long it took for him to get his strength back.

Of course, if he remained as distant and disoriented as he had been last night, her newfound calm would probably splinter all over again, but she did her best not to linger on that possibility for long. He had been exhausted last night. Beyond exhausted. A good night’s rest—and considering how cozy and peaceful he’d looked sleeping beside her, she had no reason to think that it had been anything less—could only help.

Hair hanging in loose, damp curls around her face, she dropped the excess water back into the stream, and after a moment’s deliberation, gathered her dirty clothes up in a bundle. The washing could wait a day or two. For now, in the high, isolated mountains, the heavier fabric of her Water Tribe tunic and leggings was more comfortable anyway.

She was just beginning to turn toward camp again when a small, high-pitched sound broke through the noise of the stream, and she stopped in her tracks. It was difficult to tell over the rush of the water, but that almost sounded like—Momo?

Curiosity got the better of her, and she turned downstream toward the source of the sound instead. The last time she’d seen the lemur, he’d been fast asleep on Zuko’s arm. Which necessarily mean anything. If she’d heard right and Momo had made his way down to the stream, it didn’t mean that Zuko was there too. Despite his penchant for chaos, Momo was perfectly capable of wandering off without disturbing anyone’s sleep. He might very well be splashing around on his own.

But if Zuko had woken first, rousing the lemur would have been unavoidable. And—

As she rounded a cluster of boulders, two pale shapes came into view, and her breath caught in her throat. Zuko. It was him after all, shirtless at the edge of the stream, his gaunt back freckled with bruises that her cursory healing attempt last night must have missed.

Something inside her chest twisted. She wanted desperately to burst out and pull him into the tightest hug she could muster, but the stiffness, the caution in his movements drove that impulse rapidly from her mind. As thin as he was, as obvious as his injuries were, she couldn’t justify the risk.

 As Zuko fumbled with his tunic, however, she did approach, and Momo gave her a happy chatter of greeting.

“Zuko?”

As though he’d been shocked, he whipped back in her direction, and he briefly froze at the sight of her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

Spirits, it felt like meeting him in that rundown alleyway all over again, only this time, his eyes seemed a little more focused, a little less glazed over with exhaustion. This was the Zuko she knew. And that, for some reason, made it much, much harder to speak.

“Hi,” she said lamely when no other words would come.

He reddened and pulled his eyes away from hers, hastily closing his tunic with unsteady hands. “Morning.”

Bits of his hair stood at odd angles, especially at the back where his ponytail used to be. It looked soft. Her fingertips itched to run through those smooth, black strands, to smooth the unruly bits down, and she clasped her hands together to push the urge aside. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, voice hushed. There were probably better questions to ask, better things to say, but finding words was difficult enough already. For now, simplicity would have to do.

Zuko’s mouth pressed into a tight line, and his chest visibly shuddered through a breath before he answered. “I—I’m okay.” He folded his arms, though it was difficult to tell whether he was attempting to hide his injuries or merely bracing against the morning chill.

“Are you?” Katara advanced by a small, cautious step. “Zuko—I saw the bruises.”

He grimaced but kept his eyes aimed away. “That—it’s just bruises. I’m fine.”

“Your ribs are broken,” she prodded, taking another step forward. Maybe it had been a mistake to give herself the time to bathe before healing him. Maybe if she’d gone straight to work at the first light of dawn, he wouldn’t seem so wary, so frightened to let his pain and vulnerability show. Cautiously, she reached out to him, and when he didn’t pull away, allowed her hand to brush his forearm. “I can heal them. I want to.”

For the briefest moment, his eyes met hers, and for that instant, she found herself submerged in familiar, golden warmth. She swore that she could feel his hesitance, could feel him searching every inch of her for something like assurance before he dragged his eyes away again. “You don’t have to. Not—not yet. I just—” His voice broke off, and she heard his breath catch.

Instinctively, she followed his gaze downward. Her touch had inadvertently pulled his sleeve back by an inch or two, exposing a length of coarse twine tied around his wrist. Brows furrowed, she pulled at the twine ever so slightly, twisting it until a speck of familiar, pale blue peeked out from the shadows.

With a surprising amount of force, Zuko pulled back, clapping a hand protectively over his wrist. His breath had gone up a pitch, and his eyes were wide, almost fearful.

“Zuko?”

He shook his head slightly, forehead deeply creased. “I—I can’t—” Then, as though his voice had abandoned him entirely, he opened and closed his mouth uselessly before turning sharply away and starting back up toward camp.

For a few seconds, Katara watched him go, unable to move.

Her beads. He still had her beads on that piece of twine around his wrist, wearing them like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they mattered to him. Like he wanted to protect them.

For what felt like the dozenth time since she’d found him, Katara’s eyes began to burn. This time, though, there was something warm, something hopeful behind the tears. Because if Zuko had kept the beads for all this time, she could believe that his hesitance, his distance was just an echo of yesterday’s shock. If he’d kept the beads, there was still a crack in the walls he’d put up behind his eyes. Now it was just a matter of finding her way through it.

Deep down, there was a sliver of Zuko’s mind that knew he was being irrational. Running from Katara just because she’d recognized the beads that she had given him didn’t make sense.

But the louder, less logical part of his mind would neither quiet nor allow him to stop. What if she wanted the beads back? She’d asked him to keep them safe when she pressed them into his hands back at the North Pole, and while she’d never explicitly told him that she wanted them back when they met again, it wasn’t impossible that she might have changed her mind by now. And if she had—those beads had been his lifeline more often than he cared to admit. Without them, he wasn’t sure he could have made it this far in one piece. Without them, he wasn’t sure how he could carry on. And if Katara wanted her beads back but didn’t want Zuko to stay—

You’re being ridiculous, the quiet, logical part of his mind whispered. If she wanted to get rid of you, why would she offer to help? Just talk to her.

He couldn’t, though. Rational or not, the fears were strong. And he, at the moment, was not.

Though his pace was already slow, it slackened significantly before he was even halfway up the hill. Fleeing back toward camp felt like a mistake—Katara would inevitably follow him there, and the conversation he wanted so badly to avoid would begin all over again—but where else could he possibly go? He was tired, and his chest hurt, and if he didn’t make it back to camp now, he wasn’t sure he would have the strength later.

When Katara inevitably caught up with him, he tensed, but she said nothing, instead offering him the faintest of smiles before slowing to match his pace. His face flamed. As much as he dreaded speaking to her, the silent proximity was almost worse. Within moments, his mind went to war with itself.

Talk to her.

But what if she wants the beads back?

Talk to her.

She’s probably upset that you ran.

Talk to her.

If you weren’t too much trouble before, you certainly are now.

By the time that he recognized the campfire’s flickering against a tree truck at the crest of the ridge, there was practically no space left for anything else between the warring voices in his head. He was aware of Katara keeping pace beside him, hovering a bit like she was worried that he might collapse, he was aware that his strength was dwindling, but conscious thought was beyond him.

But as he finally made it far enough to see the rest of camp, to see that Sokka had moved from his place beside the campfire to crouch by Uncle instead, all the chaos in his mind came crashing to a halt.

“There you are,” Sokka said crossly. “You two honestly have the worst timing.”

“Speak for yourself, Mister—” Katara cut off midsentence and gave Zuko’s arm a brief squeeze before breaking into a jog.

It took a few seconds before he realized what she was running for, but the instant he did, Zuko followed.

Uncle. Uncle was awake.

Chapter Text

The glow from the healing water around Katara’s hands cast a pale, silvery light over almost half the clearing. Zuko didn’t need to look her way to guess the exact, determined look on her face, or the way that her stray curls caught the light. He’d seen it before, and it took almost all his strength to keep from stealing an unnecessary glance.

“Everything seems fine to me,” she said, and the glow faded as she drew her hands back from Uncle’s chest. “Or—as fine as it can be, considering how much damage Azula did yesterday. How do you feel?”

“I cannot say that I would recommend the experience,” Uncle answered dryly. He didn’t quite have the strength to sit, so he just shifted in place with a small grimace. “Though I imagine there is nothing groundbreaking in that. I believe I feel as well as could possibly be expected, given the circumstances. And I suspect that I have you to thank for that, Avatar Katara.”

As hard as he tried not to look, Zuko couldn’t miss the slight darkening in her cheeks. “Thank you for finding us when you did. Fighting Azula was—”

“Probably not the smartest choice we’ve made recently,” Sokka inserted through a yawn. “But I guess if we hadn’t, she probably would’ve ended up chasing us anyway, so it was gonna happen one way or another.”

Katara gave him a withering look.

“What?”

“You are just so helpful,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey. I’m cooking breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced toward the abandoned campfire. “Are you?”

Sokka swore under his breath, then pushed to his feet, grumbling. “It’s like I have to do everything around here.”

Katara rolled her eyes and seemed ready to speak again when Sokka gave the pot a quick stir, lifted a spoonful of its contents, and let it slop back into the pot.

“Uh—Katara? Is it just me, or does this look burnt?”

With a prolonged sigh, she allowed her head to drop for a moment before pushing back to her feet. “You’re doing all the work around here, huh?” She flashed an apologetic smile at Uncle. “I’ll be back. Eventually.”

Despite himself, Zuko watched her go, watched from the corner of his eye as she crouched beside the fire to examine Sokka’s handiwork. He watched her face screw up in apparent bafflement, heard her instruct Sokka to keep stirring as she retrieved a teapot from a crate and filled it from a waterskin. He watched as she took a seat by the fire, apparently settling in there rather than returning.  

As painful as Zuko’s chest already was, it seemed to constrict further. She hadn’t even looked at him. Which was probably his fault—he was the one who’d fled at the stream when she’d tried to talk to him. She was probably angry with him, probably upset that he’d so hastily rebuffed her offer of help and healing, and now—

A hand brushed softly against his own, and Zuko gave a violent start.

Uncle’s face creased with a frown. “My nephew. How are you?”

A harsh, painful breath tore its way out of his throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not the one who almost died yesterday, Uncle. Don’t worry about me.”

“Easier said than done, I am afraid.” The frown deepened, and Uncle reached up to touch his unscarred cheek. “You look unwell. I cannot be the first to notice.”

I can heal them. I want to.

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. As much as his chest ached, as much as his mind had screamed for him to just stop and talk to Katara, to accept her help, it was too late now. He’d blown her off once, and now she seemed angry with him, and he was too much trouble anyway, what with Azula chasing him, and—his breathing quickened along with his pulse, and his hands clenched into fists.

No. He wasn’t going to fall apart. Not like this. Not when Uncle was still recovering. He could pull himself back together if it would keep Uncle from worrying. He had to.

“Tell me, Nephew,” Uncle said, tone light and even. “What has happened since we were separated? I get the impression that I have much to catch up on.”

Zuko opened his eyes, forehead creasing as he found Uncle watching him intently. Almost as quickly as he met the old man’s gaze, he pulled his eyes away again. “I—I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning would serve well enough.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “Baiyu? Between what Miss Song said and my own observations, I understand that you faced Azula to protect the village. Was there more that I missed?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Zuko nodded. “Yeah. There—there was.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

With a slow exhalation, he forced his hands to unclench. There was a good amount that he could tell Uncle. He would just have to choose his words carefully so as not to cause any extra worry. “She was threatening to burn the village down if I didn’t come out. So I did. Then I knocked her out of her saddle and stole her mongoose lizard.” Though his ribs still bore the proof of his miscalculations in that maneuver, he felt the smallest thrum of satisfaction at the memory. He had outwitted Azula twice. As short-lived as the victories had been, wriggling free of her grasp even once was more than he would have thought possible a few months ago.

“Then I just—ran,” he continued when Uncle’s only response was a slight twitch of an eyebrow. “Mostly at night for the first couple of days. I traded everything I could find in the saddle for supplies and kept out of sight as well as I could, and—I just kept moving east.”

“Not enough supplies, I daresay.”

“Uncle—”

“Am I mistaken?”

No. Zuko couldn’t bring himself to say it, but of course Uncle was right. “I wasn’t starving,” he managed halfheartedly after a pause. “I just—I kept my rations pretty tight. I didn’t know how long I’d be on my own, so I had to make my food last.” Then, when Uncle’s frown didn’t fade, he added, “I had the mongoose lizard. I didn’t need much to eat when I was riding everywhere.”

Still frowning, Uncle turned his gaze toward the sky with a hmpf. “I cannot fault you for rationing supplies, Nephew. Given the circumstances, some rationing was probably wise.” His eyes turned back toward Zuko. “It is the result of those past circumstances that concerns me. You really do not seem well.”

Zuko’s hands clenched again, and he wrapped his arms tight around his stomach. What was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to do? Of course he didn’t feel well. Of course he was tired and stiff and sore, but he had no way to fix any of that himself. He’d gotten a full night of sleep, and yet he was still tired. And the soreness, the stiffness—he couldn’t mend that himself.

“Have you asked for Avatar Katara’s help?” Uncle prompted softly.

The question hit him full in the chest, and Zuko’s breath left him in a rush. Unable to speak for a moment, he shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because—” His voice faltered. The truth was, all at once, far too simple and far too complicated. Simple because it wouldn’t have made sense to ask for something that Katara had freely offered on her own. Complicated because—well, because of him. Because of how poorly he’d reacted to the offer. He leaned forward, grinding at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I think I screwed everything up, Uncle. I—”

“Ah, Avatar Katara,” Uncle interrupted cheerfully, and Zuko’s head snapped upward just in time to see her approaching, teapot in hand. “I see that you are attempting to spoil me”

She crouched opposite Zuko and raised an eyebrow at Uncle. “You might want to wait until you taste it before you say that.” Placing the teapot down, she removed the upturned cup from where it perched on the lid. “Same goes for breakfast, sadly. It should be edible, but it probably won’t taste great.”

From the corner of his eye, Zuko saw Sokka make a face, and Uncle chuckled. “The effort alone is appreciated. I understand that myself and my nephew arriving so abruptly has likely caused some complications.”

Katara shrugged. “Our last few months have been nothing but complications. Most of them have been a lot less pleasant than finding old friends in the middle of nowhere, though. We’ll manage.” With that, she paused to pour the tea.

 Though Zuko did his best not to look her way, though he didn’t quite dare to make eye contact, he couldn’t escape hearing the tea pouring. He couldn’t miss the fact that she’d poured two cups, either. Impulse conquered his already shaky willpower, and he stole a look her way only to find the second teacup mere inches from his arm, and Katara’s soft blue eyes piercing into his.

Zuko’s mouth opened a fraction, and his forehead creased. “I—I don’t—”

“I believe you mentioned breakfast being ready soon?” Uncle interrupted. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I sense that I may need to sleep before too long.”

Katara nodded. “A few minutes, I think. It shouldn’t be too much longer.” She passed the teacup to Zuko with the sort of absentminded confidence that shook his focus enough that he couldn’t help but accept it. Then, as soon as Zuko’s hands closed around the teacup, she was off again, headed back to the campfire to supervise Sokka’s cooking.

Wordless, brows still furrowed, Zuko watched her go, holding the cup as though it might shatter. What? He hadn’t asked for any tea. He didn’t think he’d ever mentioned liking tea to Katara—he didn’t like it. So what was this all about? Why had she given him the only other cup?

The back of her head, with all its soft, brown curls hanging loose, provided no answers. He looked down at the tea, at the gossamer whorls of steam rising from its surface. “I didn’t ask for tea,” he said in a near-whisper, far too soft for her to hear.

Uncle, however, made a small, thoughtful noise as he wafted the steam from his own cup toward his nose. “If you had, I would be very much surprised. But not every kindness must be asked for.” He craned his neck in an apparent effort to get a more direct sniff of the tea, frowned, then lay back again and looked up at Zuko. “What were you saying before we were interrupted, Nephew? Something about complications in our situation, I believe?”

Right. All of the breath left Zuko’s lungs in a rush, and his shoulders curled inward. “No, not quite. Not our situation. Just mine.” After all, Katara didn’t seem upset with Uncle. She’d made him tea. She knew how much Uncle loved the stuff. Zuko was, at best, an afterthought.

The frown deepened. “How so? I may be rather ill-suited for travel at this moment, but I have no intention of staying behind when next you depart.” His gaze turned forward, fixing almost coincidentally on the teacup propped atop his stomach. “One week traveling alone has clearly taken enough of a toll already.”

Hastily, Zuko shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Nobody’s going to leave you behind, Uncle.”

“Then what did you intend to say?”

The old man’s gaze felt far too heavy when it turned back his way, and Zuko set his focus on the cup in his hands, on the slight imperfections in its plain brown clay. “I meant—I meant me.” His voice wavered, and he had to pause for a few shallow, steadying breaths. “I think I messed up with Katara. She offered to help me, and I just—ran away. I think she’s upset.” Again, his voice faltered, but rather than pausing this time, he simply carried on. “I think she might hate me.”

For several long seconds, there was no response, but from the corner of his eye, he could still see Uncle’s frown, could still see the way his brows furrowed as he took a sip of tea.

Zuko’s heart sank a bit, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t think of anything Uncle could realistically say that would make him feel any better. Uncle couldn’t read Katara’s mind. He couldn’t tell Zuko that he had things all wrong, that Katara cared despite everything. Of course, he would probably still try, but—

“You should try the tea, Nephew.”

The cascade of thoughts came to a crashing halt. “What?”

“The tea. You really should have a drink while it’s still warm.”

Zuko’s surprise lasted only a few seconds before dissipating into hollow blankness. Of course. Tea had been Uncle’s solution to most problems for as long as he could remember. Why would now be any different? But he couldn’t see any better solutions, so after a pause, Zuko obeyed.

The tea was still hot, hot enough that he couldn’t taste it at first, hot enough to burn a little on the way down. He regretted taking such a large sip, then as his mouth cooled, almost began to regret drinking it at all. A sharp, bitter aftertaste filled his mouth, and he grimaced. He didn’t see the appeal of tea at the best of times, but this was downright unpleasant.

He felt Uncle watching him patiently. “Rather bracing, isn’t it?”

A halfhearted nod. “That’s one way to put it.”

“You know, bitterness in tea is frequently caused by errors in its preparation,” Uncle said. “Burning or over steeping, usually. But considering the time that Avatar Katara took to brew this pot and the degree of bitterness, I doubt that is the case here. Which means that in this case, the flavor is more likely a result of the tea itself.” He paused, still watching, before carrying on, voice still light and carefully controlled. “And I only know three varieties that taste similar to this. And of those, only one is likely to find its way into a young girl’s travel supplies.”

Zuko stared. This certainly wasn’t the first time that Uncle had rambled on about varieties of tea, but it felt strange now. Like an echo from a whole different part of his life. From when he still had a ship of his own, he thought.

“Why are you telling me this, Uncle?”

“Because unless I am very much mistaken, this is moss willow tea. Primarily known for its medicinal uses rather than its flavor.” Uncle allowed a few moments of silence to pass, watching all the while. “It is a pain reliever,” he added evenly. “Can you think of any reason why Avatar Katara might have offered you a cup?”

Zuko’s breath hitched, and his pulse grew louder in his ears. Yes. Of course. She wasn’t stupid. And she’d guessed about his ribs, though he couldn’t quite understand how she’d worked out that they were broken. But it still didn’t make sense. He curled almost involuntarily into a ball, clutching his knees to his chest to keep himself from shaking.

“Do you truly believe that she would help if she hated you?”

He shook his head slightly.

“Then do you think it might be possible that your appraisal of the situation is flawed?”

The more logical part of Zuko’s mind, the part that had been fighting his panicky impulses all morning, agreed. It was possible. Possible, but not certain. And the other part of him, the part that couldn’t help but listen to instinct, clung to that uncertainty. It was possible that he was wrong, it was possible that Katara really did care. But it didn’t feel likely. It didn’t feel like she should care after everything.

“Why me?” he choked out. “Why would she waste her energy on me?”

“Nephew,” Uncle said sternly. “If your positions were reversed, would you consider it a waste of energy to look after her? After any of your friends?”

Almost without thinking, Zuko shook his head. Of course not. “But that’s—it’s different.”

“How?”

He couldn’t answer that. He wasn’t sure that there was an answer.

“There is no difference,” Uncle said after a few seconds of silence. “I am quite confident in that. It has been clear to me since the North Pole just how deeply you care for them. And I can see no sign that your friends feel differently.”

 He would probably know better than you. He at least understands people. Zuko’s eyes fixed on the teacup again. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Uncle’s judgement—he did. The trouble was that, after the past several days, after the past several weeks, it just seemed too good to be true. Friends. He’d gotten used to having them once before, and even now, even sitting here, close enough to see them again, the pain of losing them the first time still lingered.

It could still happen again. His luck could pull him away again, and then what would he do? How could he bear another loss?

“Will you do me a favor, Nephew?”

He sent a glance in Uncle’s direction. “What kind of favor?”

“Give your friends a chance. Believe that they mean to help. They deserve that much trust, at least.”

Not for the first time, Zuko felt his eyes and throat beginning to burn. But after a long hesitation, he forced down another swallow of tea.

Before the bitterness could strike his tongue again, he gave a slight nod. “I—I’ll try, Uncle.”

She really should have tried healing Zuko sooner.

Waiting while breakfast cooked and Zuko talked with his uncle wasn’t necessarily a problem in itself. Despite the fact that the rice had nearly burned when Sokka stepped away from the fire, everything had been salvageable, which meant that the cooking was done before too long.

But almost as soon as breakfast was ready, Aang and Toph had burst back into camp, Aang bubbling over with news of his progress while Toph took an uncharacteristic interest in chatting with General Iroh. Sokka, with some food in his stomach, perked up too, and he joined the conversation in a matter of minutes.

The friendly chatter was nice, Katara couldn’t deny that. It felt a bit like gathering around the fires back home to eat and talk with family and friends. But in the midst of the noise, there was ample space for Zuko to fade into the background. He barely spoke. Between Toph’s teasing jabs, Sokka’s stories of their travels, and Aang’s flighty leaps from one subject to the next, he didn’t really need to. But to Katara, at least, Zuko’s silence made him all the more conspicuous. He was pale, his hands unsteady, and his eyes downcast. He ate, but slowly, and less than Katara would have hoped. There was, however, a spark in his eyes on the rare occasions when he did look up. Enough of a spark that she was almost convinced that, given a chance, she could probably find her way through his defenses now.

It was maddening. He was so close, and yet Katara could scarcely get a word in between the others’ chatter, much less draw Zuko into conversation. Naturally, he seemed unwilling to leave his uncle’s side, and since the old man had become something of a nexus of activity around camp, privacy was out of the question. And as anxious as she was to get through to Zuko, to break through his walls and get his injured ribs healed, she wasn’t quite desperate enough to broach the subject in front of all the others.

Not yet, anyway. Given a few more hours, her patience might very well run out.

It was midday by the time that the noise began to die down—Sokka had excused himself for a few hours of fishing after convincing Katara to cook for the day, and Aang had badgered Toph into trying out a few of the games he’d learned a century ago at the Air Temples, all of which required much more open space than the clearing could afford. Then, not long after camp quieted, General Iroh began to snore again.

From her place beside the campfire, Katara watched out of the corner of her eye as Zuko straightened the blankets over his uncle, checking his pulse and his breathing a few times before finally pulling back and rising to his feet. When he was only a few steps away, she finally looked up with a small, hopeful smile.

Zuko froze in his tracks, his face going red, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I—um. I was wondering—is there anything I can do to help out?”

She felt her smile falter the smallest bit. “Zuko, you don’t have to—” She broke off with a slow exhale. He didn’t have to help—given his condition, it might be better if he didn’t—but she needed an opening. And if she didn’t take this one, he might very well take it upon himself to go off and gather firewood or something.

Though it felt a little strained, she renewed her smile and motioned to the grassy spot just on the opposite side of the stew pot. “Have you ever shelled dry pearl peas before?”

“I—I’m not sure. Probably not.”

She patted the ground anyway. If he wouldn’t rest quite yet, the least she could do was make certain that he wasn’t on his feet and risking another injury. “It’s not too difficult. But with six mouths to feed, we’re going to need a lot.”

Thankfully, Zuko didn’t object, and although being so close to her seemed to give him some pause, he sat.

Conversation didn’t come as easily as Katara would have liked, but at the very least, the two of them fell into a quiet, easy cooperation. Though Zuko’s hands weren’t as deft at the work as her own, the pearl peas were shelled into the pot far sooner than she could have managed alone, and when she set to work crumbling an assortment of dried greens into the mix, Zuko followed her lead after just a few moments of silent observation.

“That should be everything,” she said when the leftover rice from breakfast had been added to the vegetables and the whole pot sat simmering over the fire. She stole a look back at Zuko. “Thank you. Ordinarily, it takes a lot longer to make dinner.”

With a tight-lipped expression that might have been an effort at a smile, he nodded. His mouth opened a fraction as though he wanted to speak, but just as quickly, he closed it again and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Katara forced herself to draw a slow, steady breath. Nobody said this was going to be easy, she reminded herself. If he couldn’t bring himself to speak, she would have to begin.

A slight shiver ran across Zuko’s shoulders, and the words she’d planned froze on her lips. “Are you cold?” she blurted instead. It was a little cool this high in the mountains, and though it didn’t bother her, the combination of the breeze and the shade added an extra bite to the air.

His head snapped upward. “I—no. No, I’m fine.”

That was a lie. She pursed her lips, marched past him to retrieve one of the blankets from where he’d slept last night and returned to drape it around his shoulders. “I’m getting the sense that ‘fine’ doesn’t mean much to you.”

There were a few beats of silence, and the slight, stricken look on his face threatened to turn her resolve to jelly. But then the moment passed, and Zuko turned his eyes away, pulling the blanket a little tighter around himself.

“After the past couple of weeks, it’s hard not to make comparisons. This—this is better.”

“I hope you realize how sad that is.” She kept her voice soft as she sat again, just within arm’s reach. “You don’t have to pretend that things are good just because they’ve been worse before.”

He hunched in on himself a little, almost like he wanted to disappear into the blanket. “I just—I got used to the way things were. It felt like I was alone for a long time.”

It took all her restraint to hold back, to resist reaching out and pulling him into a hug. Instead, she clasped her hands together in her lap and offered a sympathetic look. “It sounds awful.”

He shrugged halfheartedly. “It wasn’t always. A few days ago, there was this family—” His voice trailed off, and his eyes turned downward. “They were nice.”

There was so much sad heaviness in his voice and his posture that a shadowy outline began to take shape in her mind—an Earth Kingdom family offering him food or supplies, or maybe even attempting to take him in, only for everything to go wrong. Only for Azula to find him and plunge his world into screams and eerie blue flames.

“I’m glad someone was. Considering—well, yesterday, I was a little worried that you’d just been running from Azula the entire time.”

He grimaced. “I was, technically. But I had a pretty good lead for a while, so until yesterday, I didn’t—” He broke off abruptly and buried his face into his knees with a small, strangled groan.

This time, Katara couldn’t hold herself back, and her hand closed softly around his shoulder. “Zuko?”

“Azula. She—she wouldn’t know about you if I hadn’t gotten myself caught yesterday.”

“That’s not true,” she said, almost reflexively.

After a few beats, Zuko raised his head a fraction. “What?”

“Yesterday wasn’t the first time I ran into her. Granted—I probably didn’t leave much of an impression in Chuanxi, but—”

He straightened, forehead creasing. “Chuanxi? You—you were there?”

She nodded. “Apparently we only missed you by a couple of hours. I was—no, I am still upset with Master Pakku about that.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I guess he was in contact with your uncle as soon as you made it to the Earth Kingdom. He knew exactly where to find you, but he wouldn’t tell me. Just Sokka. And Sokka wouldn’t say anything about it at first because we were training in Bei Haian, and—frankly, General Fong was bad enough when it was just us. I can’t imagine how taking you and your uncle there with us would have gone.” She stared down at her hands, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “We went looking for you as soon as we were sure training in Bei Haian wouldn’t work out. And after I ran into Azula and found out that we’d just missed you, we spent days searching from the air. But there were never any signs for us to follow, so—”

“Uncle had us traveling at night for the first few days,” Zuko inserted quietly. “That’s probably why you couldn’t find us.”

“Probably. And I guess it kept you out of Azula’s way for a while too.”

He curled in on himself again, resting his chin on his knees. “A while,” he agreed. Then, after a slight pause, “Did she cause you much trouble?”

She frowned in thought. “Not personally, no. I went into Chuanxi alone wearing Earth Kingdom clothes, so she didn’t pay much attention to me. But when we were in Omashu, we got in a fight with a couple of her minions, and they chased us to that village yesterday.” She looked up into his eyes again. “We were probably an afterthought, but she knew about us. And now that I’ve used my waterbending and earthbending in front of her, I’m sure there’s a target on my back.”

Zuko was quiet for a moment, keeping his eyes downturned. Then, “Isn’t it a bigger risk to keep everyone with a target on their back together?”

“I don’t think so. It’s probably easier for her to find us this way, but at least together we have a chance at fighting her off. What good is hiding if there’s no way out when she catches up?”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that, and he sat quiet for some time, not quite willing to meet her eyes. Enveloped in the soft folds of the blanket like that, he looked smaller than usual, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was similarly small.

“I never wanted to cause this much trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“It’s just—” He sighed, and his hand emerged from beneath the blanket just long enough to run through his hair. “I didn’t think things would go this way. I didn’t think I would ever see you again, much less like—this.” He gestured at himself a little helplessly before his hand retreated back under the blanket again.

“It’ll get better,” she said softly. “You’re here now. We can help you as much as you need.”

His mouth tightened into a grimace. “I don’t understand why you’d want to. I don’t even have any spare clothes left. I just—” His breath rushed out, and he buried his face in his knees again.

For a moment or two, Katara didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to help because she cared. Because he was her friend. Because he was her Zuko. But what were the chances that he would believe that? Considering the way he’d fled at the mere suggestion of healing earlier, considering how averse he seemed to accepting help, much less asking for it, she had her doubts. Something more concrete would probably be more useful.

Clothes. General Iroh did have an unreasonably large pack for one man, and since he and Zuko had traveled together up until about a week ago, it seemed possible, if not likely, that the old man had taken some or all of Zuko’s supplies after they were separated. With some rooting around, she could probably find enough of Zuko’s things to assure him that he wasn’t starting entirely from scratch, but digging through the general’s things seemed weird and invasive, and—

Wait. She didn’t need to snoop through the old man’s supplies at all.

Suddenly brightening, she gave Zuko’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t respond. He barely even reacted until she’d gone to her own pack, dug all the way to the bottom, and returned with a bundle of soft, charcoal gray fabric in hand.

“Zuko? I have something for you.”

He kept his head down. “You really don’t have to give me—”

“No, I do,” she insisted. This time, she knelt beside him and nudged his arm. “Come on. Will you at least look?”

He gave a shallow, shaking breath, and he slowly raised his head. “Katara, I don’t—” But as soon as his eyes landed on the folded cloth, he went quiet, brows furrowing. His hand brushed ever so softly over the fabric, and his mouth opened a fraction, but his voice didn’t seem to work.

“They’re yours,” she said quietly. “I’ve been carrying them around since the North Pole. And—I mean, they are Fire Nation, but gray blends in a lot better than red.” She pressed the bundle into his hands. “At the very least, it’s something to wear on laundry day.”

His fingers curled into the fabric, digging in deeper and deeper until his knuckles went pale. “You—you kept them?”

It was barely a question, but Katara nodded all the same. “Of course I did.”

His hands clamped down tighter, tight enough that they began to shake a little. Then, before she was sure what was happening, he pulled the bundle in closer, hugging it to his chest as though his life somehow depended on it.

“Zuko?”

He shook his head, eyes pressed shut. His breathing seemed faster, shallower than it had before, and after just a few seconds, she thought she could see moisture glittering along his lashes. Hesitant, she cupped his cheek and ran a thumb just below his unscarred eye, and sure enough, a tear spilled over onto her hand.

“Zuko?” she repeated, softer this time. “What’s wrong?”

Again, he shook his head, but it seemed more reflex than response. “I don’t understand.” He wiped harshly at his eyes, but that did nothing to stem the tears, and a choking sob tore its way out of his throat.

Katara scooted closer and shifted her hand to his shoulder.

“I thought I was going to die yesterday,” he choked out. “I couldn’t run anymore, and Azula had me cornered, and I fell, and—and that should have been the end. But I woke up. And I saw you there, and—how? How is any of this real?” He had to pause there to catch his breath between the sobs. “I thought about you all the time. I—I missed you. But I’m not lucky. Good things don’t happen to me. So how—”

He started to pull the bundle of clothes in even tighter, but a particularly violent sob cut him off. His face contorted, and he twisted to the side, pressing a hand over the place where she knew his ribs were broken.

“Zuko,” she said softly, urgently. “Stop. Please. Just stop for a minute so I can heal you, then I’ll answer whatever you want.” Keeping a hand on one shoulder, she reached up with the other to push his hair back from his eyes. “I just want you to feel better first.”  

There was a flicker in his expression, and for a few beats, she thought that he would refuse again. That he would insist, yet again, that he was fine, that he could manage without help. But he didn’t. Instead, he struggled through a few shallow breaths before giving a small, decisive nod.

Almost as quickly as the answer came, Katara was by his right side, waterskin uncorked, and pulling his hand gently away from the injury. She tried not to worry about the way his resolve had splintered all at once, about the way the wrenching sobs wracked his entire chest. The water flowed out to encase her hands, and she pressed them to his ribs. She was going to heal him. Whether the crying had done further damage or not, she would make him be okay.

“Try to breathe slowly,” she said, half as instruction and half in warning. “This might feel worse for a little while before it gets better.”

A morning’s worth of standing and walking and moving around had, unfortunately, pulled the broken ends of the bone subtly out of alignment, and without help, without much experience mending bone herself, guiding the pieces back into place felt a bit like pushing a canoe through slush. Through her unyielding focus, she was vaguely aware of his sobs turning to short, shuddering breaths, then when the bones at last snapped back into position, she was aware of those breaths breaking down into a prolonged fit of hollow coughs. Still, she kept working, jaw set as the water’s glow intensified with every ounce of effort she poured in.

She couldn’t heal bone without help, at least not entirely, and not in a single session. But by the time that she stopped, she’d come closer than she thought possible. Close enough that this time, no amount of crying could jar his healing ribs out of place.

He was still coughing when she put her arms around him, though the strength behind the fit had long since gone. Even with the healing water cast aside, a part of her still felt attuned to all his inner workings, to the way the shuddering in his chest had shifted from pained to finally, finally relieved.

“Take your time,” she whispered, guiding his head toward her shoulder when he wavered. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

The world felt hazy again.

It was almost like last night, but rather than a fog of pain and terror, this felt soft and warm and comfortable. There was a blanket around his shoulders, and a fire crackling softly just beyond his feet, and Katara. She was here, and his head was resting on her shoulder, and for the first time in days, it didn’t hurt to breathe.

“How are you feeling?” she asked in a whisper.

Speaking was difficult. Finding words was too.

“Dizzy,” he managed. Which wasn’t untrue, but as soon as the word left his mouth, something about it felt wrong. He couldn’t place exactly what, though.

“Guess I’m not surprised. You must have hyperventilated with all the coughing.” Her hand lifted from where it rested around his shoulder to wrap around and feel his forehead instead. Then, as her hand returned to its prior place, she added, “Any pain?”

He shook his head. None that was strong enough to break through the haze of exhausted relief, at least.

“Good. It’ll take a few more healing sessions to get your ribs completely back to normal, though. You’ll have to take it easy for a while. Understand?”

He nodded. For now, at least, he didn’t seem to have a choice. And for now, he couldn’t really bring himself to mind.

He felt Katara sigh, felt her shift a little under his weight. A part of him wished that he had the strength to support her rather than the other way around, but he supposed that he didn’t have much choice in that either. Not now. Not when his lungs still felt like they were adjusting to proper, full breaths after days of pain and tightness.

He stared at his hands, at the rumpled folds of charcoal gray cloth still resting in his lap. “I still don’t get it,” he rasped.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

He gestured faintly at the clothes. “These. Why you kept them.”

“Oh.” She shifted again, and suddenly, she was leaning against him, propping him up and allowing him to do the same for her. When she spoke again, a smile had found its way into her tone. “I think the real question is why Sokka kept your uncle’s letter. He told us it was so that he could learn a secret code, but I’m not convinced that’s the whole reason.”

Surprise struck him forcefully enough that he tried to raise his head, to get a look at her face to see if she was joking. “He did?”

Katara nodded. “He showed us just after we left Chuanxi. It’s probably still in his pack, mixed in with the dirty socks or something.”

Smiling still felt beyond his reach, but he let out an involuntary snort.

“We had to clean up the campsite one way or another,” she explained, going quiet again. “We needed the tent and sleeping bag after ours got lost in the lake, and it didn’t make sense to leave your things behind when we were already there. Besides, I promised I’d find you again. I would’ve been a pretty bad friend if I’d had your clothes right there and then left them to get buried in the next snowstorm.”

That wasn’t true. Zuko was pretty certain that Katara could never be a bad friend.

His eyes drifted back to his hands again, to the twine poking out from beneath his sleeve. The beads themselves had slipped out of sight, and almost reflexively, he worked them out into the open again, twisting the beads between his thumb and forefinger.

A slow exhale. She would never be a bad friend, but in hindsight, he might be. With the way he’d panicked, the way he’d fled at the mere thought of losing the beads, he wouldn’t have blamed her for giving him up as a lost cause. They were rightfully her beads, after all. What right did he have to object to giving them back?  

“You still have them,” Katara said softly, reaching out to trace her fingertips along the twine.

“Y—yeah.” His pulse picked up, and a shadow of the same panic began to rise in the back of his mind. But he forced himself to breathe, forced himself not to burst out with the first words that came to mind.

Katara had healed him. Though the process had sapped most of his remaining strength, he could, at last, imagine himself recovering before another catastrophe had time to catch up with him. Katara wanted him to stay, and while he had a difficult time understanding why, no one, least of all Uncle, had offered any objection to the idea.

If she—if all the others—could do that much for him, he ought to at least be brave enough to take a small step into the uncertain fog ahead.

“Do you want them back?”

The question seemed to take her off guard, and for a few seconds, she was quiet, still trailing a finger along the twine. Her head lifted, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her lean forward to look into his eyes. “Do you not want them anymore?”

“I—” His voice caught, and he had to swallow hard before continuing. “I think—I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without them. But—but I’m here now. And they’re yours. And you said at the North Pole—”

“That you could give them back if you wanted,” she finished for him. She looked away, into the fire for another few moments. Then, “Okay.”

There was a pang in the middle of his chest, and his hands were struck by a sudden wave of unsteadiness, but Katara seemed too occupied with digging through the nearby cooking supplies to notice. Shakily, he picked at the knot until the twine came loose from his wrist and clutched the beads in his fist, half hoping that if he squeezed them hard enough, their impression might remain permanent in his palm.

When Katara turned back to take the beads, it took a considerable amount of effort to open his hand, and he looked away, pressing his eyes shut. He could handle this. He wasn’t alone now. He didn’t need the beads to push himself from one day to the next anymore. It hurt, but he could manage.

He could manage.

He could manage.

He could manage.

He could—

Something soft twined around his wrist again, and his eyes snapped open to find Katara’s small, slender hands tying something new in place. Smooth leather cord rather than coarse twine. Dark, rich brown rather than the pale, straw-like color he’d grown accustomed to.

And then, when her hands pulled away, two sharp points of contrast in the form of pale blue ivory caught the firelight.

His breath caught in his throat.

“They’re yours now,” Katara said, settling back in beside him. “Properly this time. Although if you give me a day or two, I can probably find something nicer to put them on than Sokka’s meat-roasting cord.”

Zuko’s eyes remained locked on the beads, on the supple brown leather, on the neat little knots that Katara had tied on either end of each bead. He shook his head. “No. No, this is—this is perfect.”

Inexplicably, he could feel tears rising again, and he closed his eyes as Katara’s arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I missed you,” she said softly.

“I missed you too.”

Chapter Text

“Congratulations, Sugar Queen,” Toph announced, dusting her hands together. “You now have roughly the earthbending skill of the average toddler.”

Raising an eyebrow, Katara stretched the tension from one shoulder, then the other. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult?”

Toph’s face screwed up in apparent consideration before settling on an answer. “Compliment. You’ve had fewer lessons than the average toddler. But it’ll become an insult if you’re still bending like a toddler three days from now.”

That figured. Toph probably wouldn’t dream of offering a compliment without conditions, without barbs under the surface ready to undermine the positivity. Still, Katara couldn’t bring herself to feel too upset about it. She was happy with her progress. And she was relatively confident that she could continue to make the sort of progress that would satisfy both herself and Toph.

When the signal came that their lesson was done for the day, Aang leapt up from his place at the edge of the boulder field, grinning so wide that his face looked ready to split.

“Well?” He bounded toward them both like an overeager polar pup. “What do you say? Can Katara and I start having our lessons together?”

Toph snorted and whacked his shoulder. “Keep dreaming, Air Head. You’ve still got a long way to go before you’re at a toddler’s bending level. You still earthbend like a tiny little baby. I’d give it—at least a week before you’ve got any chance of catching up.”

“Only a week? That’s not bad at all!”

“I said at least a week. And only if you really focus in every single lesson.”

That didn’t seem to discourage Aang in the least, and as they all started back up the hill toward camp, Katara found herself smiling along with his enthusiasm. She frankly didn’t mind the individual lessons—as frustrating as Toph could be, she was at least happy to push Katara forward—but it was hard not to share in the general sense of optimism. The sun was just breaking over the eastern peaks, bathing the slopes in golden light and cutting through the lingering chill in the air. Everything felt bright and fresh and shining, like the world had just started anew and nothing could possibly go wrong.

And when the three of them emerged into camp again, that feeling only strengthened. Sokka was by the fire, tending to a simmering pot just like yesterday, but with more animation and cheer than usually accompanied his attempts at cooking. General Iroh, who was strong enough to sit with some help from a stone slab that Toph had bent out of the ground, sat on the opposite side of the fire, telling jokes and stories that probably accounted for the improvement in Sokka’s mood. And slightly apart from the two of them, beneath the same tree where Katara had left him, Zuko still lay peacefully asleep under all his borrowed blankets.

The instinctual pull toward him was too strong for her to resist, and she stopped to crouch beside him. He was still pale, still thin, and so still at first that she had to hold her hand in front of his nose to be certain that he was still breathing. But a soft, warm puff of air hit the back of her hand, and his forehead twitched, and she felt her mouth soften toward a smile. He’d fallen asleep shortly before the others returned to camp for dinner last night, and while it struck her as a bit strange that he still hadn’t woken, she knew that he needed the rest. The fact that he felt safe enough, comfortable enough to sleep for so long warmed something inside her.

Though she wanted to smooth his hair, to caress his cheek and watch his eyelids slowly flicker open, to see the wave of contented relief wash over his face when he realized once again that he wasn’t alone, she managed to hold herself back and instead settled for adjusting his blankets. At the slight disruption, Momo poked his head out from under the blanket just long enough to give her a disgruntled chitter before snuggling back in against Zuko’s chest again. She gave the lemur a quick scratch behind the ears in apology before rising.

Zuko needed his rest. As much as she wanted to see him up and talking and eating breakfast with the whole group, she wasn’t going to disturb him. There was time. And the more sleep he got now, the quicker and smoother his recovery would probably be.

“Decided not to burn the rice this time, huh?” Toph plopped cross-legged next to General Iroh and leaned back on her hands.

“Hey,” Sokka protested. “That was not intentional.”

“Oh, so you don’t just like the smoky flavor. Got it.”

Rolling her eyes, Katara took a seat between Sokka and General Iroh while Aang settled across from her and next to Toph. From this angle, she could still see Zuko out of the corner of her eye, and she silently thanked the spirits that the squabbling wasn’t loud enough to disturb him from across the clearing.

“Just for that, I’m gonna serve you last.” Sokka reached for the ladle, nose in the air.

After he’d scooped himself a bowl, Katara grabbed the ladle before he could act on his petty impulses and filled a bowl each for Aang, Toph, General Iroh, and herself. There wasn’t much left in the pot afterward—enough to fill a bowl for Zuko when he eventually woke, but not much more. She frowned ever so slightly. Their supplies weren’t exactly running dry yet, but feeding six people rather than four would probably become a challenge before too long.

“So,” Sokka said, apparently ignoring her, “this whole ‘firebenders rise with the sun’ thing—that’s just a myth, right?”

General Iroh rubbed his chin. “I don’t believe that I would call it a myth. It is certainly not a rule, but the sun is the source of our power. The surge of energy when it rises can be quite difficult to resist.” He glanced toward Zuko, then looked at Sokka again. “I assume my nephew is the reason for your question?”

“Yeah. The sun is up, but only one firebender has risen.” He stuffed a rather large bite of rice into his mouth. “Sheems shtrange if you ashk me.”

“Sokka!” Katara elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t be gross.”

He scrunched his nose and rolled his eyes but thankfully decided not to stick out his tongue to show off his half-chewed food.

“I must admit,” General Iroh said, looking Zuko’s direction again, “that I find it rather strange as well. My nephew is not usually one to sleep in so late.”

The worry in his voice was unmistakable, and Katara turned the general’s way. “He’s okay,” she assured him. “I checked on him first thing this morning and then again a few minutes ago. He just really needed his rest.”

“But why?” Sokka leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t get it. Didn’t he go to sleep before dinner last night?”

A scowl overtook her face. Nosy jerk. How hard was it to be patient and let Zuko rest rather than worrying the general?

“Spirits, you people who can see are so unobservant,” Toph said, almost under her breath.

“What? What did you observe that the rest of us missed?”

Toph sighed exaggeratedly. “Maybe it’s just me, but I think walking around with broken ribs for at least two days is a decent enough reason to sleep in.”

Sokka’s chopsticks dropped into his bowl, and he gaped, wordless. Aang seemed surprised too, but rather than freezing up, he looked back and forth between all the others before venturing, “Wouldn’t that hurt? Like—a lot?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s all sunshine and rainbows,” Toph answered dryly.

Briefly, Katara dropped her face into her hands. Ugh. The fact that Zuko had been injured, the fact that she’d had to heal him wasn’t exactly a secret—or she wasn’t exactly determined to keep it a secret—but this wasn’t ideal. Far from it.

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you know about this?”

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked back up to find Sokka staring at her. With a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap. “Yes. I knew he was hurt as soon as I saw him. I wasn’t sure it was his ribs until Toph said so, but I knew.”

On her other side, General Iroh craned his neck for a better view of where Zuko still lay buried in blankets under the speckled shade of the tree.

“He is okay,” Katara insisted in answer to the old man’s obvious concern. “He let me heal him yesterday afternoon.” She allowed herself a long enough glance to see Momo attempting to tuck himself back under the blanket again. “I can’t tell if the healing wore him out or if it’s just easier for him to sleep now that he’s feeling better, but he’s okay.” Or near enough to it, at least. There was no use in worrying the general further when all Zuko really needed was a few days of food, rest, and simple healing sessions to be well on his way to normal.

Thankfully, if Toph noticed that the damage to Zuko’s ribs wasn’t entirely mended yet, she chose not to mention it.

“Ah.” Though the general didn’t relax immediately, he turned slowly back toward the fire. “I am glad to hear that.”

For a few long moments, everything went quiet save for the crackling of the fire and the breeze in the treetops. Both Aang and Toph went back to their breakfasts with little fuss and no comment, but Sokka began fidgeting relatively quickly. Then, out of nowhere he blurted, “So how much longer are we talking here?”

Katara blinked. “For what?”

“For the fire jerk to wake up.”

She pursed her lips. “Do I look like a mind reader to you?”

“Well, I don’t know. You seem all caught up on everything else that’s going on.”

“Because I talked to him yesterday. Did you consider trying that?”

Rather than answering, Sokka stuffed a large bite of rice into his mouth and made faces at her as he chewed.

Jerk. But with Zuko lying just within her line of sight, safe and comfortable at last, the annoyance couldn’t last long. As the conversation picked back up, taking a less serious path into plans for the day, Katara found her eyes drifting continually back toward Zuko, to the way his blankets moved with his breathing and his smooth, black hair fluttered in the breeze. Just the sight of him warmed something inside her. He was okay. He would be great before too much longer.

She could hardly wait to see him happy and healthy again.

As soon as Zuko began to stir, curling his head in as though the late morning light was too strong, all her focus turned his way. She saw him pull the blanket up a little higher as if to cover his eyes, but when Momo chattered in protest, he gave in and scratched the lemur’s ears instead. She watched him lie with his eyes shut for a few moments longer, petting Momo before attempting to open his eyes. She saw him blink his eyes into adjusting to the brightness, saw realization dawn across his face, and saw him stagger up out of his makeshift bed, face flushing scarlet when he saw the others already awake around the fire.

“Hey,” Sokka said. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Katara slid to the side to make space for Zuko between herself and the general and reached forward to prepare one more bowl for his breakfast.

“You could have woken me,” Zuko said hoarsely. He hesitated for just a moment before sitting, then paused again when he saw the bowl of rice she held out his way.

“Nah.” Sokka took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and then resumed, “I think Katara would’ve frozen my head to the ground if I’d tried.”

 She raised an eyebrow. “I still wouldn’t rule it out.”

Pretending that he hadn’t heard her, Sokka blustered on. “Plus the embarrassed face is pretty funny. You should see how red you are. And the hair—”

A long, exasperated sigh escaped Zuko’s lips, and then he froze mid-breath, apparently surprised by his own reaction.

Sokka grinned. “It’s less arctic rooster-y than it used to be. Why? What did you think I was gonna say?”

He was never going to get used to this.

Or—well, he might. He’d gotten used to it once before. The sensation of sitting around a campfire, breakfast in hand, with his friends and his uncle gathered around was strange but not entirely foreign. Like the North Pole, but warmer. Less fleeting. At least he hoped it would be.

With Uncle on his right side and Katara on his left, with the world so much clearer today than it had been yesterday, there did seem to be a path forward for him. Not a clear path, necessarily, and not a definite one, but a path nonetheless. A chance, however slim, that his time alone might be forever behind him.

“—so if this chucklehead can focus real well in his lessons, I think we might be able to combine them in about two weeks,” the little earthbender explained to Sokka. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up for anything sooner than that.”

“You said one week earlier,” Aang protested.

“And you didn’t listen then either, so I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Zuko took a bite of his food. The rice was bland and the texture a little strange, but for the first time in a few days, eating felt almost pleasant rather than merely necessary. For the first time, he didn’t hurt, and as mediocre as Sokka’s cooking was, it was nice to be able to focus on the taste rather than just how much he needed to eat to keep himself from collapsing.

“Earthbending master to the Avatars,” Uncle said with a smile. “I must say, that is quite an accomplishment, especially at your age.”

The earthbender—Toph, he remembered—smirked. “Upset it’s taken you so many extra decades to catch up, old man?”

“Not in the least. Merely impressed with your skill. Most never achieve such an honor.”

Zuko’s memories of the fight weren’t quite clear enough to be certain, but he thought he agreed. He thought he remembered being surprised by the force and the accuracy of Toph's earthbending, though the effect had been somewhat lessened by her apparent difficulty with dodging and shielding herself from Azula’s flames. Although—Toph was blind, wasn’t she? It was probably too late to ask now, and with her head angled to the side, he couldn’t quite get a look at her eyes to see for himself, but it would make sense. It would account for her inability to sense Azula’s flames, at least.

“So—speaking of bending masters,” Sokka said, “we’re not necessarily in a hurry yet, but what are the chances we could convince you to stick around and train these two when they’re ready for firebending? We’re—you know. Not exactly drowning in offers out here.”

Zuko’s pulse quickened. All at once, he could see the path ahead clearing, broadening until it almost eclipsed his fears, his uncertainties. They could stay. He’d never given the idea much thought before—he hadn’t dared to—but they could. They could stay, and Uncle could train Katara and Aang, and Zuko could be with his friends again, and—

“Ah.” Uncle lowered his bowl and sent an even, searching look Zuko’s way. “I would be honored, but it is not solely my decision to make. If my nephew would agree to assist in their training, however—”

His hands went slick, and Zuko almost dropped his bowl. “Me?”

A nod. “Of course. There is only so much an old man can teach on his own. I am neither as quick nor as flexible as I once was. When it comes time to practice through sparring, they will need an opponent who can match their energy.”

Sparring. Flashes of the North Pole came back to him—of Katara smiling down at him from the rim of the ice pit, of the icy moonlit ridge, of the snow cushioning his back and his breath curling upward in shimmering ribbons of steam after a particularly long bout. Of the happiest he could ever remember feeling. Of course he wanted to go back to that. Of course he wanted to help.

Another set of images tried to invade his mind—images of blue flames, of his own sputtering fire failing to come anywhere near Azula—but he pushed them back as far as he could. That wasn’t sparring. Sparring wouldn’t be anything like that.

“I’m really out of practice,” he said, voice less certain than he would have liked. “I probably won’t be much help for a while.”

“I don’t imagine that firebending lessons will be needed for a while.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Katara smiling his way, and against all odds, Sokka gave a satisfied nod as well.

“Great.” Sokka set his bowl aside and leaned one elbow on his knee while gesturing with the other arm. “Then I think it’s time to get serious about our planning.”

Katara paused, chopsticks halfway between her bowl and her mouth. “Is that why you’ve been in such a rush this morning?”

“Who’s rushing?” Sokka retorted. Instead of waiting for an answer, though, he carried on. “I’m just saying, up until now we’ve sort of just been wandering from place to place looking for masters. And we’ve got a master for every element now. That’s our whole search done and over with. We don’t exactly have a destination anymore, you know?”

She made a face, but didn’t argue.

“So the way I see it,” Sokka continued, “our two obvious options are to either find someplace really well protected to hide out while you two train, or—”

“Like Ba Sing Se?” Aang offered.

Toph’s expression hardened abruptly. “No. I’m not going to Ba Sing Se.”

“Or the second option,” Sokka interrupted with a glare, “is to keep moving and count on the fact that Appa can fly faster than they can chase us.”

“That one has my vote.”

The glare hardened into a scowl, but Toph, of course, remained unbothered. “You’re making it a little difficult for me to get to the point here, short stuff.”

“If your point is that we have to go to Ba Sing Se, I don’t want to hear it.”

Rolling his eyes, Sokka straightened back up. “I was going to say that we have the two obvious options, but it would be even better if we could do both. You know—have people around who can fight Azula off if necessary, but also keep moving so we don’t have to fight.” He paused, looking expectantly at Katara, then at Aang, then back again.

Neither spoke. Aang scrunched up his brows in thought, and Katara frowned, head tilting ever so slightly to the side, but if there was any definite meaning behind Sokka’s allusions, neither seemed to recognize it.

“Dad’s fleet,” Sokka blurted eventually, after it became obvious that no one was going to jump in to predict his plan. “I’m saying that we could go looking for Dad’s fleet.”

Again, there was silence. Zuko’s pulse quickened a little—he didn’t know enough about the Southern Water Tribe’s fleet to guess how he and Uncle might be received—but Katara’s reaction struck him harder. There was no smile, no easing of her posture. Instead, she seemed almost to tense, eyes locking onto Aang, who, for his part, appeared relatively unbothered. Thoughtful, perhaps, but not concerned.

Katara had told him something about Aang and her father, hadn’t she? Back at the North Pole, Zuko thought he remembered her saying something about her father and a map and how Aang had concealed something. How she hadn’t, ultimately, been able to see her father.

What kind of friend would keep you away from your family?

His face warmed. Right. That was at least partially Zuko’s fault too, though he hadn’t known it at the time. And although he was reasonably confident that Katara didn’t blame him for capturing her anymore, the guilty sting was still there.

“Don’t all speak up at once,” Sokka said sourly.

 Uncle gave his beard a thoughtful scratch, staring into the fire. “I gather that your father is a Southern Tribe warrior. Is there a chance that I might know of him?”

“Maybe. Does Chief Hakoda ring any bells?”

“Ah!” Uncle brightened, then frowned again in thought. “I certainly recall the name. His reputation, however—I believe reports were rather divided.” He glanced up and offered a slight smile when he caught Sokka’s fleeting look of consternation. “Divided by nation, primarily. Unless I am very much mistaken, I believe my Earth Kingdom connections considered him an honorable man. To the Fire Nation, he was much more evasive and underhanded.”

“Oh.” Sokka relaxed into a fond grin. “Yeah. That’s definitely our dad.”

“Then I suppose I have no objection to trying.” Uncle’s eyes flicked toward Zuko for a moment. “Whether or not my nephew and I will be welcome is hardly worth worrying over for the present.”

Awkwardly, Aang raised a hand. “Um—Sokka? How exactly are we gonna find him? I mean, the last time we looked—”

Katara tensed, and Zuko glanced her way just long enough to see her hands tighten into fists. Last time? What exactly happened last time?

“We have that map, and the one from way back before the North Pole,” Sokka replied bluntly. “Obviously the fleet has probably moved since then, but it at least gives us a direction. If they’re not somewhere around where they said they’d be on the last map, they’re probably going east through the Zhongjian Channel. Maybe it’ll take a while, but we’ll find them eventually. We’ll just have to stay ahead of the Fire Nation until then, and we’re doing that anyway.”

Aang offered no objection, and Sokka looked around the group again.

“So? Is everybody in?” A beat. “Toph?”

Arms crossed, Toph jutted out her chin. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know how I feel about hanging out with someone else’s dad.”

“You’re apparently fine with someone’s uncle, though.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, stopped, frowned, and let out a puff of breath. “Yeah, well—how am I supposed to know if your dad is cool?”

Sokka scoffed. “Come on. He’s my dad. Of course he’s cool.”

“And am I supposed to trust your judgement after you vouched for this dork?” Toph gestured vaguely in Zuko’s direction.

“Hey,” Katara protested.

“I specifically didn’t tell you that Zuko was cool,” Sokka said at almost the same instant. “I said that he helped us at the North Pole and that he’s decent for a firebender. There’s a difference.”

Toph made a face and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Dorks attract dorks, I guess.”

“Makes sense how you wound up here, doesn’t it?”

Scowling, Toph thumped her heel on the ground so that the rocks beneath him lifted an inch or two before dropping back to their original position and allowing Sokka to land with a thump.

“Ow,” he said, shooting Toph a dirty look.

“How long a trip are we talking before we’d have any chance of finding your dad?”

Sokka rubbed at his backside. “I don’t know. Like I said, he could be a lot of places.” He scrunched his nose in thought. “Probably—at least two weeks to get back to the coast. Who knows how long it’ll take once we’re there.”

“Oh.” Toph visibly relaxed. “Well, why didn’t you say that sooner? A couple of weeks is ages.”

Rather than acknowledging the response, Sokka moved on. “Katara?”

She started, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, looking for Dad sounds fine to me.”

There was something in her voice—or rather, an absence of something, of a spark that usually carried through her tone—that gave Zuko pause, but he could neither identify the strangeness nor ask her about it. At least not here. Not in front of the others, and not in such an incredibly brief moment.

When Sokka looked his way for one last confirmation, all Zuko could really do was nod. Enthusiastic or not, both Katara and Uncle had already agreed. As wary as Katara’s hesitance made him feel, he was hardly in a position to argue. And he certainly didn’t want to risk being left behind.

“Great!” Beaming, Sokka clapped his hands together and scooped his bowl back up from the ground. “Then since everyone’s more or less in one piece now, we might as well pack up and fly out as soon as it gets dark tonight. No point in waiting around for Azula to track us when we know where we want to go and there’s space to sleep in the saddle.”

Zuko stole a sideways glance at Katara, at the bow of her head and the sharp angles of her knuckles pressing out against her skin.

He turned his gaze back down. He was going to have to speak with her. Before they left the sanctuary of this quiet mountain camp, he had to know exactly what they were getting into.   

Chapter Text

Nightfall.

That wasn’t so long to wait. It was just after noon now, which meant that there were only a few more hours to go before they were all loaded into the saddle and flying off into the night. Waiting for a few hours wasn’t so bad.

It was just boring.

Really, really boring.

When Momo gave up on their game in favor of chasing a bug, Aang groaned and flopped onto his back, arms splayed out as far as they would go. A few more hours. What was he supposed to do for that long? His earthbending drills were done, Appa was brushed, and his next waterbending lesson wouldn’t be until sometime tomorrow, after they’d found someplace else to camp. And since they weren’t leaving until nightfall, it didn’t really pay to start packing his things up now—he’d barely even opened his pack, so that would only occupy him for a few minutes at best.

He could hang out with the others, he supposed. That was what he usually did. But the trouble was that everyone else had found things to do, and exactly none of it sounded very interesting to Aang. Toph, to begin with, had declined his suggestion of playing more bending games today, opting instead to chat with Iroh about the Earth Rumble. Which, he had discovered fairly quickly, was a lot more entertaining in theory than in practice. The intricacies of how admission fees and gambling contributed to the champions’ prize money was apparently fascinating to an old man, but not to Aang. And Sokka was even worse. He had taken it upon himself to go fishing again, and there was no way that Aang was going to have any part in the fish-killing.

Which left Katara. And she was washing laundry, which was no fun at all. Aang didn’t complain too much about doing his own chores, but he wasn’t interested in seeking out more.

Zuko didn’t let that stop him, a small voice whispered in his head. He offered to help.

Aang’s stomach did a strange, squiggly flip. Right. There was Zuko too.

With another, almost involuntary groan, he crossed his arms over his eyes. It was a good thing that they’d found Zuko. He knew that. Zuko was a pretty strong bender who could probably help a lot with firebending lessons when the time came. And, more pressingly, there was Azula to worry about. From what little Zuko had said about her—and the fact that he had apparently been pretty badly hurt when they all met in that deserted little town—it sounded very much like Zuko could have died without the others’ help. It was a good thing that Zuko wasn’t dead. It was good that he was okay now.

Still, Aang couldn’t help but feel—well, he didn’t know what exactly to call the feeling. He wasn’t excited to have Zuko back, he knew that much. But maybe that was just because everything was so new. It had only been two days. They hadn’t even had time to sit down and work out how chores were going to be distributed with two additional people in the group yet. Of course it was going to take some time to adjust. Aang would probably feel perfectly fine about having him around once they all got used to this new arrangement.

Probably.

Maybe.

He wasn’t actually as confident as he probably should have been about that.

Honestly, it was just hard not to think about the way things had been at the North Pole. About how Katara had spent so much of her free time out sparring with Zuko and so little with Aang. About how she had drifted away until she was convinced that Zuko was her best friend rather than Aang.

His guts did the same wriggly thing again, and he rolled over onto his stomach, folding his arms beneath his chin. Ugh, what was that feeling? It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be! Aang wasn’t a jealous person. He just—got a weird feeling in his stomach whenever that memory came back up. That didn’t mean anything.

Her best friend.

It wasn’t fair. That title should have been Aang’s. He’d known her longer, and he really liked her. A lot. Probably in a way that Zuko never would or could like her.

That sounds a lot like jealousy to me, the voice in his head whispered.

No. Aang sprang to his feet. No, he wasn’t going to accept that. He wasn’t jealous. He could prove it. He was going to march right down to the stream and hang out with the two of them, even if that meant getting dragged into helping with the laundry. If taking on some extra chores was what it took to prove that he wasn’t jealous, he would do it.

Sitting cross legged, Toph planted her hands surreptitiously on the ground. She was fairly confident that none of the others were around to eavesdrop, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. Her candor had its limits, and every one of those limits lay somewhere short of allowing a bunch of loser kids to see the cracks in her stony fearlessness. Iroh, though—Iroh seemed the type to hold his tongue. He wouldn’t take it upon himself to spill everything out if she decided to confess one stupid little problem.

“So,” she began when she was confident that the others’ vibrations were still well beyond the edges of the clearing, “You’re really gonna teach those two how to throw fire around, huh?”

“It would seem so.”

“That was your plan all along?”

Iroh made a small, thoughtful sound. “I don’t believe there was ever anything definite enough to be called a plan. But of course I knew that the Avatars would be in need of a firebending master sooner or later, and I am more than happy to help.”

Yeah, that was more or less what Toph had expected. She unfolded her legs and leaned back on her hands as casually as she could. “Just because they’re the Avatars, or are you willing to help in general?”

At that, Iroh paused, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Is there something that you would like my help with, Miss Toph?”

Dang it. She was going to need a lot more practice if she was ever going to successfully talk Iroh around in circles like she’d always been able to do with Mom and Dad.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said flippantly. “Don’t forget, I’m the best earthbender in the world. I didn’t become the Earth Rumble champion by being helpless.”

“Of course not.”

“But—you know, it was the Earth Rumble,” she continued, a little hastier than she would have liked. “I didn’t really get a ton of practice with any other elements there. Even Fire Nation Man was just a mediocre earthbender putting on an act. Getting out here and dealing with real firebenders was—”

“Quite a shock, I imagine.”