A gust of wind rattles through the bungalow, setting various handmade dream catchers and trinkets into sways and spins. Shells and beads clicking together, adding to the sound of waves crashing against sand. Another more powerful gust sends the thatched bamboo and palm fond roof swooshing. Azula can taste the sea salt in the air. And the scent of fish and seaweed wafting through the spacious dwelling—the odor had bothered her for the longest time, but she has since grown accustom to it. She crosses the threshold, onto the balcony and—from the spaces between lush palms and jungle ferns—takes in the ocean side view. She makes out two familiar figures trotting along the shoreline. A little boy and his Water Tribe father. The boy holds something out to the man, likely a shell or a turtle. She looks away from the scene to check on one of the spices she'd been working on and then approaches her low-resting table to retrieve her mortar and pestle. Azula leans against the balcony railing and continues crushing and grinding the herbal contents in the mortar. The breeze rustles her hair and flutters the feathers woven into her bangs.

She watches Khao preform some skillful waterbending tricks. He mostly toys with the sea foam, building it into various shapes ranging from octopi to koi fish.

She brings her water jade pendant to her lips.

.oOo.

Ursa grabs Kiyi's hand.

Weeks have passed and still the fever doesn't break.

The child calls out helplessly. Ursa watches just as powerlessly. Zuko is raking his hands through his hair trying to figure out who he should send his next messenger hawk too. They'd been sent off to the most prestigious herbalists, apothecaries, and Water Tribe healers. He and Ursa had brought Kiyi to them and had, had them come to him. Helping her is growing ever more difficult now that journeys to the doctors are becoming harder on Kiyi. Zuko has paid the traveling fees just to get doctors to come check her out and say that they don't know what to do.

Phe-Fang—who still sits vexed (at both his own inability and the waste of his time) on a plush cushion near the window—is the most recent medical mishap. He held Kiyi's little arm in his hand for only two minutes before declaring that the child was a lost cause. "She sweats like three are upon us and cries like the tormented souls of the Spirit World. What would you have me do that the others have not tried?"

Zuko himself grows indignant at the lack of empathy and effort displayed by the so-called esteemed doctor Phe-Fang.

"What would I have you do?" He finally explodes. "Maybe, put some work in! Real work! Actually try!" He lets out something between a grumble and a growl and runs his fingers agitatedly through his bangs. "My sister is dying and you," He looks around the room at the palace physicians, "none of you." He pauses, "are helping."

Ursa leaves Kiyi's side for the first time in days, to put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "They're doing their best."

"How can you say that? Is he doing his best?!" Zuko thumbs in Phe-Fang's direction. He runs his hand down his face and sighs. "I'm sorry I snapped at you…" he is too tired to elaborate. It doesn't matter, he recognizes the look of understanding that crosses Ursa's face. She is just as agitated as he is, if not, more so. She is simply better at masking it.

"I don't know what to do?" Zuko finally speaks again. He can't fight his frustrated tears anymore. "I don't know who else to try."

"How about your friends? The Avatar? That Katara girl, you said that she brought the Avatar back from the dead with spirit water?"

It is a pretty suggestion. But he had already thought of that. He had written to Katara about it and she had tried her best. But even after every service she'd done for the world, she was still denied access to anymore Spirit Oasis water under the guise that she was lucky to have had possession of it once. And that if they kept handing it out people would beg for it until the oasis was sucked dry. That's what her letter had disclosed anyhow. Thinking about it has Zuko's blood boiling all over again. He understands, truly he does, but he still feels outraged that they can't make an exception for him. For the Firelord. For the man who helped the Avatar.

"I've tried asking her. She said she's on her way to the Fire Nation."

"But…" Ursa prompted.

"She isn't sure if she can do anything either." Zuko says. He sits down at Kiyi's side and takes her hand. She is asleep and he doesn't want to wake her, with things as they are, the girl doesn't get much sleep. She is usually roused awake by an ache in her belly, a scratch in her throat, or a pounding in her head. It hurts to look at her. Even in sleep she seems pained. Her face is pale and drenched in fever sweat. Her hair is messy and somehow dull. She is painfully thin and it tears Zuko apart.

He feels completely and utterly helpless.

"Go for a walk Zuko." Ursa prompts. "Get some fresh air, clear your head."

This time he doesn't put up a protest, if for no other reason than to ease Ursa's stress. He turns back and says, "you take a walk of your own when I get back."

Ursa nods. She can use the break as well.

.oOo.

As Zuko treks the street, he is met with imploring voices and hushed whispers. By now most people have gotten wind of Kiyi's condition in some way or another—be it chatty doctors themselves or a simple observation of the amount of physicians clamoring about the palace grounds.

"Is your sister doing any better?"

"Is she going to be okay?"

"How bad is it?"

He deflects or ignores the questions entirely.

"I hear that it's contagious." The gossiping man backs away as Zuko draws near.

"No one's ever seen it before so it must be dangerous." Whispers another.

Zuko ignores this too.

More people scuttle back, deterred by the first man's speculation. His agitation builds. This walk was a bad idea, he thinks.

He feels a tug on his sleeve. A timid girl looks up at him, puzzling over what to say. He waits, when she doesn't begin he quirks an eyebrow, "can I help you."

"Actually, I can help you." The commoner averts her eyes, fearing that she had overstepped some kind of boundary. "What I mean is… I've heard of someone."

Zuko cocks his head. To his surprise the girl picks up on his cue.

"My grandmother was very ill for a long time. We tried everything, from healers to…"

"Scientists." Zuko finishes, "so have we."

The girl nods. "But you haven't tried the mystics yet have you?"

Zuko sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, unaware that he'd just caused the girl's cheeks to glow a bright red. "We—" He hates to admit it, "got desperate enough to try one." Now he is blushing. "But he was a sham, he just blabbered some kind of chant and burned some sagewood."

"Well Uliuli Iwi is different. She saved my grandmother a few months ago, and my brother when he was just a babe." She looked up at Zuko. "You must give Uliuli Iwi a try."

"Uliuli Iwi." He tries the name on his tongue. "Who is this Uliuli Iwi exactly?"

"She's the shaman of Ember Island."

He tries the name again, "Uliuli Iwi."