Aloha, everybody!
So back-tracking on any statement I may have made about not writing multi-chapter fics for its time consumption blah blah, I became an absolute hypocrite when a story niggled in my head and just wouldn't get out. So voila, the beginning of what I hope to be a half-decent product of my procrastination!
Happy reading, folks.
Edit: I had a friend look over this recently, and something they said struck me so much so that I thought I should mention it here. I'm well aware of how regressing Zuko to his Season 1 personality might turn-off some readers as it's highly OOC, but I promise I'm trying my best to make it seem as reasonable as possible plot-wise. I ask for an open mind and the creative freedom with the characters - and hopefully, this might become something that matches up to the welcomely high standards of the fandom!
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters/places/speeches do not belong to me.
Silent, soft, swift – she snuck out, stepping around the sleeping figures cautiously.
The daybreak draft whipping through the open chambers sent a shiver through her, and she bit her tongue to stop her teeth chattering. Even after she climbed the steep cliff face and clambered into the wilderness above, not a sound escaped.
They had survived for three years after their lost war. She wasn't about to blow their cover now in carelessness. You never knew who was around.
The Western Air Temple was their ruined sanctuary. What was not destroyed by the Fire Nation attack a century ago was overrun by possessive vines and branches, latching onto walls and creeping along the many floors like a silent fog. The frequent streaks of black and destroyed statues served as a reminder that this refuge, this asylum, had also been tainted by the burning world. That they could not stay here and still be safe.
But they had been, for so long now. It was wreck, but it was well hidden, under a cliff where no one would care to look. Who could survive in such conditions? In this sinking temple that belonged more to the nature around it than the people who built it?
They had come, once. Many months ago, Toph had felt the incoming footsteps of wandering Fire Nation soldiers. Or perhaps they were refugees, like themselves. It didn't matter. They had retreated to the lowest level of the temple; to a secret room Toph and Haru had made in the cliff face for emergencies. She remembered gripping Sokka's hand and listening oh so intently and waiting, waiting, waiting. That was the hardest part.
Eventually, the footsteps faded away. No one came after that.
They had run out of food. Someone had to gather it.
Katara crouched amongst the bushes, pausing to listen before darting across the forest floor. She went by her familiar route, one that led to a small meadow of fruit and vegetables. Ducking under low branches, leaping over toppling rocks, the only sound of the rising morning were the twitters of the birds and groaning of the trees as it awoke for another day.
Reaching the clearing, she took one quick look around. Trees burst in thick brown and green batches, overflowing with apples and oranges and at their base, clumps of bushes riddled with berries (some poisonous, she had figured out). Opening her rucksack, she grabbed as much food as she could carry and threw it in. She'd count it later.
Moving along, Katara hoisted the bag – happily heavier – onto her shoulder, and circled aimlessly around the cluster of trees two, three, four times. A ritual she had adopted, in case someone was following her, each round faster than the last. When she heard nothing out of the ordinary, she left. There was one more protocol before she could return.
"You kids have to leave. You have to escape together. Appa's been injured, so you may have to dig yourselves out of the city. I trust our earthbenders are capable enough. Make sure you aren't followed. We'll distract the soldiers long enough for you to get away, but you must leave immediately."
"What? We can't leave you behind –"
"There's no time, Katara! As long as you and Sokka are still fighting, we still have a chance. You'll find Aang, I know it."
She gazed up at the worn face of her father, blood damp on his shoulder. Her heart hammered in her chest as he enveloped her in a hug, giving her a pained smile.
"He's still alive, Katara. You have to believe it. It isn't over, yet. We'll see each other again, I promise."
I hope you're right.
There it was. The tallest tree in the forest.
Dropping the bag softly near the base, Katara began to climb.
She did this every time she came out. It was ridiculous and hopeless and in another life, another world, probably romantic – in an insane sort of way.
But this was her life and her crumbling world and she didn't climb for a true love but for a semblance of freedom to feed a growing desperation.
She finally reached the top, breathing in the warm air and basking in the first rays of the sun. Her eyes roamed around the roof of the forest, skimming over the lush greenery before flicking up to a serene (empty) blue sky. And for a moment – just a moment – she let herself imagine she was soaring through the clouds on a sky bison with a laughing airbender. Free.
It was ridiculous and hopeless and desperate but she needed this moment.
"AANG!"
She saw the lightening hit his back and his convulsion, but her thoughts were drowning together into one word.
No.
Ignoring the horde of Dai Li surrounding her, Katara swept a wave of water to ride towards the tumbling Avatar. She pressed forward with arms outstretched, just managing to catch his limp body.
No.
"You've got to get out of here!" a voice called to her, distant. "I'll hold them off as long as I can!"
But Aang wouldn't make it. No, no she had to stay and heal him.
"What are you doing? You must leave immediately!"
The water from the Spirit Oasis. It glowed under her shaking fingers. This had to work. He had to live. He had to. He couldn't die. Not yet. Not yet.
"Get the waterbender! Forget the traitor!"
A rock collided with her chest and threw her back, the wind escaping her lungs in a rush. She crashed into the wall and fell in a heap, her vision exploding from the pain at the back of her head. Vaguely, she made out a figure in front of her, encased in crystals. She tried to move – she really did – but her body refused to cooperate.
Aang.
"Well, wasn't that fun? Grab the traitor and the Avatar and follow me. His pathetic followers must be around here somewhere. Find and end them. Zuzu, be a good boy and take care of the peasant for me. I would do it myself but I'd rather not soil my hands again. Decent manicures are just so difficult to get these days."
Aang.
The catacombs. Where they truly lost the war. And where...
No.
She shook her head, shaking out the memories. There was no benefit in dwelling on the past, on people she hoped to never see again.
The birds had stopped twittering when she jumped from the last branch to the soft ground. Picking off wayward leaves on her clothes, Katara slung the rucksack on her back and turned towards the temple. Everyone would be awake now, probably, maybe, not really. She hoped not. There weren't any raids planned today, after all. She did enjoy the relative silence – it felt safe and peaceful, not hollow or empty. And it gave her time to cook breakfast without Sokka hovering around hoping for an extra bite here and there.
And then? Training. More training. Hour after hour. She had to be stronger. She had to be ready. It had to be perfect. A single mistake could get her – could get them all killed. No, her skills had to be flawless and she could never stop learning. Learn, practice, perfect. Learn, practice, perfect. Learn, practice –
"Ironic, isn't it?" A voice broke her reverie with its unmistakable sneer. "Even after making a show of sneaking around, you're as loud as a raging moose-lion. And here I thought you'd learnt something."
Katara froze, her breath hitching slightly in fear and shock. She turned, still praying that, maybe, he was a figment of her imagination.
The sliver of sunlight through the trees highlighted a mop of black hair and an angular face, pale and half-warped in scar. A pair of amused yellow eyes watched her, waiting. He leaned lazily against a tree, looking deceivingly innocent. But she knew better.
"What? Too afraid to move? How flattering." He raised his (one) eyebrow.
This was real, alright.
A blink later, a whip was ready in her hands, the plants around her curling brown in decay. She clenched her jaw in determination, and pushed, a spear of water rushing to impale him where he stood.
He side-stepped it easily, his eyes brightening with interest.
Katara flicked her hand, the whip twirling to become a series of ice daggers, flying at him with raging speed from all directions. There was no way he could avoid this.
He raised a wall of flames, obscuring himself from her view. The daggers pierced through, but when the fire faded away, he was gone. She took a step forward cautiously, another ball of water hovering between her hands –
Something cold and silver pressed against her throat, digging warningly against her skin. Her hands fell to her sides, the water splashing at their feet. "Very good," Zuko muttered in her ear. "Quick, but not quick enough, it seems. Just like always."
They had found them.
Your thoughts, as always, are cherished.
Until next time!