A/N: Hey! Here's another chapter! Please forgive any typos, I tend to edit after I've posted which probably isn't the best habit but oh well. Anyway, let me know what you think. Leave a review of your thoughts and ideas :)

II

Zuko woke before the sun every morning.

In the dusky dark of dawn, he dressed in his loose, threadbare clothing. His twin broadswords rested at the foot of his bed. He slung the sheath across his shoulder and ducked out of his room.

When he reached the platform where the Fighters came and went from their camp, he could not go down by the usual rope, for there was no one to pull the rope back up to camp after him. Instead, he eased himself over the edge of the platform, clinging to the wood with both hands before dropping down to a land on a branch. He continued down to the forest floor in a similar fashion, plunging from branch to branch, his feet landing on each tree limb with a practiced silence. Once his feet touched the earth, he straightened his sheath on his back and hiked off into the wood.

The cliff was conveniently close to camp but far enough that none of the others would stumble upon him. Beneath the cliff was the roaring river from which they fished and collected water for drinking. On the horizon, he could see the sun begin to rise. Its light was no wider than the width of one of his broadswords, but it would grow. He unslung his sheath and hung it on a nearby branch. He emerged from the trees, onto the clear, open space of the cliff. He listened to the river run beneath him and watched the sun rise higher into the air, its warmth spreading across his skin and renewing his vitality.

As the sky bloomed into shades of pink and orange, he dropped into a low stance and inhaled deeply. He thrust his fist out and from his knuckles emerged a burst of hot flame. He recoiled his hands back into his chest with a sweeping motion and took another deep breath. This time, he punched both fists out, one after the other. The flames they produced lingered a second in the air, and before they were extinguished, he used a gentle swoop of both his hands to guide the flame like water over his shoulders. The hot ring circled around his head once, twice, following his hands like a faithful dog. He lunged to the side, shooting the flame in a straight line down the length of his extended arm. It rushed like lightning into the air and dissolved away to nothingness.

He continued through his forms until the sun had fully risen and his body was drenched in sweat. Then, he climbed down to the river and bathed in the cool water. On his way back to camp, he checked a few traps he had set up and collected a few rabbits out of it.

When he got back to camp, it was already bustling with activity. Freedom Fighters yawned as they prepared for the day. Some sat around the table on the main platform, eating breakfast and sharpening weapons. Others busied themselves with their morning tasks. Zuko bid good morning to Pipsqueak, who was of the same age as Zuko but three times the size which made his name as humorous as it was unfitting. The large youth was repairing one of the platforms. Zuko made his way over a rope bridge and up a few stairs to the cooking platform.

It was a small platform with a cook fire in the middle, a long table along one side and a series of covered metal crates for storage along the other. Meg, a baker's daughter, managed the kitchen with two or three helpers. She had brown eyes and a sweet smile, but she could just as easily cut a man's heart out as she could chop vegetables. That was the funny thing about most Fighters. No matter their trade or background, the war had made skilled fighters of them all.

"Good morning," Meg said. She was kneading dough.

"Morning, Meg," Zuko said as he grabbed a small knife.

He found an empty patch of floor and plopped to the ground with his rabbits. As he began to skin them, he felt someone approach from behind and sit next to him. It was The Duke, Meg's little brother. He watched Zuko's process for a moment before pulling a little knife of his own and cutting into a rabbit. He managed to do a decent job at skinning the creature, but in the time it had taken him, Zuko had finished off the rest.

"Not bad for a first try," Zuko said, collecting all the rabbits by their feet and laying them on the table for Meg to cut and cook.

Zuko made his way out of the kitchen with The Duke following close behind.

"What are you doing today?" The Duke asked. He wore a helmet that was a few sizes too big for him and every time he looked up at Zuko it threatened to slip off his head.

"Rope duty," Zuko replied, scrunching his face up to show his displeasure for the boring task.

"Can I help?" The Duke asked eagerly.

"Duke!" they heard Meg calling from the kitchens. "Come back here! I need you to stir the stew!"

"Meg's going to cut you up and put you in the stew," Zuko teased.

The Duke shook his head. "No she says I wouldn't taste very good. Can I help you?"

Zuko looked down at him and smiled. "Sure."

"Duke!" they heard Meg shout again.

"It's The Duke, Meg!" the boy screamed back before running to catch up with Zuko.

The day went by slow, as it always did when one was charged with managing the comings and goings of the Fighters. You sat around waiting for the whistle that signaled someone needed to get back to camp. Then you dropped a rope or two and pulled the waiting Fighters back to camp. Zuko was glad to have The Duke for company. He let the boy help him pull ropes back into camp, although Zuko ended up doing most of the work.

Zuko showed The Duke how to carve dragons out of broken branches. They spent most of their day with their feet dangling over the sea of leaves and knives methodically chipping away at pieces of wood. That's how Katara found them. It was evening and most of the Fighters were gathering on the main platform for dinner.

"Still waiting on some?" Katara asked a she sat cross-legged behind the two.

She had three bowls of stew balanced in her arms. Zuko swung his legs back onto the platform and took one of the bowls. The Duke mimed his movements.

"I think it's just Smellerbee and Longshot left," Zuko replied, bringing a spoonful of stew to his lips.

Katara nodded. "They shouldn't be much longer."

Zuko noticed the bandage on her head.

"How's your head?"

"You worry too much, honestly." Katara grinned. "I've had worst scratches than this."

"How much worse?" The Duke inquired, wide-eyed and curious.

Katara and Zuko laughed.