Beauty Is the Beast

Chapter 3: The Magic of the Full Moon

Someone or something was following him; he knew it; he could more or less sense its body heat through the blustery, snow-drenched tundra. And even though the presence of another being soothed him greatly—the feeling of being all alone was getting to him—it irked him, knowing that he had already caught the attention of a competing hunter or some miscreant animal. He thought that he'd been careful, safe, even. He'd walked off in the opposite direction of the other hunters and traveled only when he could see filtered bursts of moonlight through the clouds, lighting his way with its ethereal glow. That had been his strategy. And for a while, everything had worked out pretty well.

But now, walking in the slivers of safety from the final night of the waning gibbous moon, something was following him. Irritatingly closely, too.

Zuko dug his spiked boots into the frosted ground, shuffling uncomfortably across a precariously glistening expanse coated with at least two inches of unforgiving, treacherous ice. He had to be careful in the South's horrid environment, more careful than that first night, when he had been growled at in the dark; that night, almost two weeks ago now, when he had been sure that he was about to be viciously mauled by a wild animal with more teeth than he could count, before something—two dignified yelps, actually—lured the scavenger away. If it hadn't been for those two yelps, he was certain that he would've come face-to-face with his first predator, maybe even the beast, itself.

The ground crunched with each cautious step and the sound pulsated through the air. Years of training with highly-skilled stealth tutors felt like it was completely wasted. No matter how hard he tried, walking quietly wasn't an option. And he huffed, knowing that whoever or whatever was tracking him would have a damn easy job.

Agni, he thought with a grim sneer hidden under his face guard, why do you make things so difficult for me?

With only his morbid thoughts for company, he plodded along, keeping his face down in case the ground shifted, but keeping his ears attuned to the sounds around him. Whatever was following him was damn near silent and he wished he could copy the being's elusive footfalls. But whatever was following him had undoubtedly grown up in the South's harsh environment. And Zuko? Well, he obviously hadn't; and he was used to the unstable movement of sand and gravel, not the fluffy white shit around him that crunched no matter where he put his weight when he stepped.

A soft, near soundless sigh and a puff of frosty breath filled the snowy air as he stilled. He had started his trek determined to make it to the safety of the mountainside within the first night, but the combination of an early summer blizzard and a cloud-filled sky had stalled his travel plans, forcing him to stay holed up in his tent for the first few days. And now, earlier than he had intended once again, he needed to stop for the night and make camp, regardless of the creature—human or animal—still on his tail.

Because, in a few minutes, the waning gibbous moon would descend for a few hours, encasing the entire wasteland in total darkness, which meant that he'd be completely exposed to the elements and whatever thing was following him. And even though he was frowning at his poor luck, he didn't spare it much thought. After tonight, the full moon would rise, giving him three glorious nights of light-filled travel.

And he couldn't wait for the sky to light up. Much as he hated to admit it, he desperately missed the sun and he hadn't realized how much his body craved the burning orb's powerful rays until it was gone. And he desperately hoped that he'd be able to get some sort of relief from the reflective power of the full moon. Maybe the shafts of pure, untainted moonlight would replenish his energy stores, grant him a fraction of the power the sun usually did.

Well, he sincerely hoped that would be the case. And right now, hope was all he had, especially since his bones were aching from the near-constant chilly wind and his ever-present breath of life-saving fire.

He looked around and unshouldered his pack, shuffling in the snow and making sure that he was on solid ground. A few nights ago, he had woken up on a fissure and he had to slowly scoot himself across the three inch gap to safety. And ever since then, he had been extraordinarily cautious and even took a few moments to walk a determined circle around his small encampment, making doubly sure that he wouldn't wake up wedged between two deadly sheaths of bone-chilling ice.

Tent set up and a rationed slice of withered komodo-rhino jerky for dinner, Zuko settled in for the few hours of daytime darkness. He focused on his breathing and forced chi to his fingertips; a spark of flames flickered in his tent, offering an eerie glow and providing a burst of warmth. Enamored, he watched the dancing fire before snuffing it out with a flick of his fingers. His energy output—much like his food intake—needed to be regulated.

Another lonesome sigh.

Enclosed in darkness once more, Zuko shuffled around in his sleeping bag and wrapped his arm under his head, protecting his maimed face from the biting sting of the canvas-covered, but still chilly floor. After a few dreary minutes, he fell asleep, remembering the final few words of encouragement from the only person he could truly trust: Uncle Iroh.

"Remember, Prince Zuko, even in the worst environments, a firebender is resourceful. Use what you're given. Use what you've learned—what I've taught you— and I know that you'll return."

A heavy, shameful growl and a twinge of desperation in the prince's voice. "But Uncle, no firebender has ever gone that long without the sun. Even Zhao, when he traveled south five years ago—" A grimace as one of the palace healers applied a poultice to his raw wound. "He only lasted two months before he—"

"Zhao was a fool," Iroh interrupted, patting his injured nephew on the back as the healer worked around him. "He didn't understand—didn't know his limitations. Pride and narrow-minded ambition kept him going for a fair amount of time before his inner fire dwindled. He didn't understand the inner-workings of breath control like you do." A stiff nod and a soft, beard-lined smile. "And he's lucky to have made it home alive."

"But he's a master. How am I supposed to complete this task if he didn't?" Zuko stiffened when a grim and sober realization hit him and he shoved the healer hovering over him away. She toppled into her cart and squeaked, and Zuko glared at her until she scrambled away, out of earshot. A little ashamed with his outburst, he looked to the right, golden and pained eye narrowing at the Fire Nation's proud emblem as he whispered, "Father…he doesn't want me to come home, does he?"

Iroh sucked in a breath and carefully exhaled. "My brother's ambitions are like a tightly woven puzzle. Nobody knows his true intentions, and—"

"Except Azula."

A hesitant pause. "Perhaps."

"He doesn't want me to come home," Zuko repeated, more forceful this time.

"Don't let those kinds of thoughts deter you, Prince Zuko. I'm certain that you'll return by the end of summer, victorious."

"And if I don't?"

Iroh's hand rested on Zuko's shoulder, fingers pressed tight against the red silk tunic. Reassuring and filled with comforting heat. "You must."

A servant entered, knapsack and coin purse in his hands, packed with whatever essentials Zuko'd need during his journey. It was the least that the Fire Lord could do for an unachievable assignment. "Prince Zuko," he nodded, voice solemn. "It's time."

Rigidly, Zuko stepped away from the medical table and shouldered the bag. He turned to give his uncle one final goodbye before the elderly man sprinted to him with uncharacteristic, youthful grace and caught him in a deep embrace. After a struggle, the prince relented and melted into the man's hug, cherishing the farewell by wrapping his arms around Iroh's portly frame.

The servant cleared his throat and the embrace ended. "Prince Zuko," he said again, urgency in his voice.

Zuko growled and spun on the ball of his foot, bandaged face tinted red. "Goodbye, Uncle."

Iroh shook his head, speckles of tears in his eyes. "Remember your breath of fire. It could save your life out there."

"I will."

"And put your hood up! Keep your ears warm!"

"I know."

"You can do this, Prince Zuko! I believe in you!" A reassuring smile.

And with that, the door snapped closed and he was gone.

OoOoO

Katara paced her cavern, itchy and annoyed. The first full moon was always bothersome; three days of near-constant light that usually forced her curse away. She should've been happy with the brief stint in her human form, but with a total of thirty hunters still remaining—one Northern Water Tribesman had fallen into a chasm as she watched from afar, blinking at her luck, and the other had died honorably, Akiak's teeth clenched around his still-fidgeting neck before the polar-bear-dog feasted on the Earth Kingdom man's innards—she was nervous.

And hungry.

But she couldn't go out and properly scour the landscape for large game because the curiously injured firebender was close to her home, his presence limiting her hunting ground. With his harsh steps, he'd even scared away a pair of mouthwatering, decent-sized caribou-elk that she'd been stalking for a whole afternoon without knowing it. And in his unwavering and impatient haste, he'd gotten aggressively nearer over the past few days, forcing her closer and closer to her mountain in an effort to guard it from his occupation. The maimed man was crazily tenacious; even an unseasonal, two-foot blizzard hadn't halted his trek, and Katara found herself wondering what she could do to stall his ever-growing, undeniably irritating advance.

She could've taken a chance and confronted the man, but she didn't know how long she would last without getting singed or grievously maimed by an awry and unavoidable blast. He was skilled, fearless. And his overabundant confidence frightened her in a way that it shouldn't have.

She didn't forget about her assets; she had claws and teeth that were crafted to kill, not to mention her own bending as a last resort. But this man, with his firebending abilities and unafraid attitude…he was a threat that couldn't be taken lightly. He needed to be taken down swiftly, carefully, every single maneuver thought through with calculated precision. She would only have one chance, and she wanted to come out the victor.

He wasn't the first bender that she had faced. No, she'd encountered a few skilled combatants over the past decade. Though, some were definitely more skilled than others. Earthbenders, particularly, struggled in the South since there wasn't a viable source of bedrock, as it was buried too far below the icy surface to be immediately usable. Granted, some quick-witted fellows had brought their own supply; jugs of dirt that could be solidified at a moment's notice. And they occasionally caught her off guard with chunks of sharpened stone that they would fling through the air with deadly accuracy, spearing her when she least expected it.

Waterbenders were particularly troublesome, as their element was all around. But it wasn't only their element. It was hers, too. And when the fighting got tough, Katara could occasionally tap into her human bending forms and whip her head back, forcing the ground to jerk up unnaturally and twist her opponents off balance. She would take those brief moments of surprise to her advantage, swiftly ending her bending brethren with quick nips in their vital spots. Necks and thighs were excellent targets since they housed important veins and arteries. And since it was unmanly for Northerners to learn healing, the men died, cursing her existence as she bounced through their final, lackluster bending forms, chuckling as their life slithered into the ground, coating the pure white snow until it was a bloody red.

There were so few firebenders that Katara was never really knew what to do with them. The first one she had encountered had been five years ago, when a burly, brown-haired, heavily side-burned man who ear-deafeningly proclaimed himself as 'Zhao: the Beast Slayer' invaded her mountain and mercilessly scoured each tiny hole and expansive cavern until he was satisfied that nothing was there. She'd barely managed to close up her peephole and hide as he passed, talking to himself and cursing the wind and ice quite loudly as he did so.

At first, she had been a little intimidated by the red-clad hunter, enough so that she'd hidden instead of fought. So she watched him for a while, intrigued but cautious; and after a few days of careful stalking, she discovered that he was abnormally reckless and sometimes burst out in fits of rage that she didn't wholly understand, melting the ground in large swaths and making it hazardous to safely cross. And even though she'd kept her distance, he had managed to somehow sneak up on her during the full moon, while she was in her weak and less intimidating human form.

Without even questioning her non-cursed appearance, he'd attacked, unprovoked, and she had barely managed to get away from him, panting heavily as she ran through the snow, covering her tracks with her bending, almost naked and nursing a few terrible burns from searing blasts that had somehow torn through her parka. And even though she'd escaped, Zhao didn't give up his search.

He tracked her ruthlessly, melting a fair number of her hiding spots as she fled from him. And when the new moon emptied the skies, he attacked once more, somehow thinking that he could utilize the darkness to his advantage. And for some unknown reason…it worked. Even though she had her heightened eyesight and nose, he had snuck up on her and pinned her down, flames held aloft and ready to strike before something withered in his eyes. With a pained expression and a few exhausted pants, he released her and retreated with an uncoordinated haste, leaving Katara confused, scared, and clinging to the faintest strings of consciousness.

And by the next morning, when she had regained her cognizance, she realized that he had suddenly vanished, without a trace or scent in the tundra, leaving her sorely discombobulated and decidedly irritated. He'd been the only person to see her—in both human and cursed form—and live to tell the tale. That, alone, was aggravating, and a piece of Katara knew that she hadn't seen the last of that man. And every year, she wondered when he'd return, once again screaming about his prowess and boasting that he was 'Zhao: the Beast Slayer and the Endless Night Survivor.'

Since that troublesome firebender, there'd only been two more, but they were soundlessly killed with the aid of the full moon's power. Now, that didn't mean that nonbending, Fire Nation citizens didn't hunt her. She'd encountered a fair number of those shivering and barbaric weapons specialists, and they were surprisingly dangerous. Even though they didn't have bending talents, they were skilled marksmen and swordsmen, never giving up without a fight. True warriors.

Much like the brothers that had come before him, the maimed firebender slowly ambling toward her home must have been taught by the same ruthless tutors. Never giving up must have been the entire nation's encouraging and bothersome motto. How noble.

Her stomach grumbled and she knew that she needed to go out and hunt; at least, try one final time before the magic of the full moon temporarily lifted her curse. But she was scared and was having a hard time trying to convince herself that it was necessary; enough so, that she'd been holing herself up for the past few days, munching on her emergency rations with a vigor that should've been shameful. And now that her food stores were nearly depleted, the threat of hunger was slowly clouding her mind. She should go out…but she couldn't; not with the determined and undeterred firebender only a few miles away. Not when Akiak was sniffing out his trail, even though she'd told him to stay away. A simple hunt was suddenly a dangerous mission.

Her thoughts twisted until she prudently nodded her matted head. She could do it; stand three days of being a little hungry until the full moon passed. In her human form, the hunger wouldn't be too bad. It was only three days. She could take three days…no problem.

Convinced, Katara exhaled a warm puff and nuzzled into her fur-lined ledge. A soft breeze floated into her peephole, encouraging her to sleep. And sleep…she did.

Until her stomach rumbled early the next evening, disturbing her quiet slumber and aggravating her immensely. She needed to hunt. And luckily, the spirits were on her side; the full mooned sky was cloudy, which meant that the mysterious power of the moonlight was blocked and she'd still have the luxury of being in her cursed form. Goody.

OoOoO

Zuko woke the next night with a few strands of moonlight pouring through the zippered opening of his tent. Excited, he tore back the flap and gazed at the slivers of pure moonlight sifting down through the sky. It was cloudy, but he would take it, especially since he could see that he was finally alone; nothing could slink around and track him in this light.

With rapid and practiced fingers, he tore down his temporary dwelling, wrapping the canvas covering around the poles to protect them while he traveled. When his shelter was packed, he was left squirming in the squally cold, fingers trembling as he picked through the remaining portions of his foodstuff. Three slices of frozen komodo-rhino jerky, seven bites of hard tack, and a few handfuls of mixed nuts and berries were all that remained. And sadly, just like he'd thought, the bunny that he had managed to capture the first day had been the only wildlife he had actually encountered.

He needed to hunt, and he'd need to do it today, while the light was strongest.

Zuko sighed, thinking about one more day of wasted travel time, but food was necessary. Eating was vital and he couldn't survive off the supplies he had left for much longer.

Fingers twitching with nervous anticipation, he set off at a brisk pace, wind nipping at the exposed quarter of his face. He thought about the traps he used to set with his grandfather and uncle, capturing small prey with skillful ease. But the snares that he had learned to make with them were crafted of supple wood and curved steel, and he didn't have those materials in the unforgiving tundra. So he'd have to stalk a creature, hopefully corner it so he could slice into it with his broadswords or impale it with his dagger, like the arctic hare.

He continued walking, his mouth watering with the thought of the bunny. Angi, he should have savored the creature, picked it completely dry and set some meat aside, cooked the bones in a pail of water until they boiled, creating a nourishing broth. He could've made a few meals out of the delectable creature; but instead, he'd picked as much as he wanted off and tossed the rest, thinking that he'd—maybe—come across another one in the near future.

He hadn't.

Half the night passed, and as he walked, the landscape changed. The flat, barren land that he had just traversed shifted into jutting expanses, like a snow beast had gotten irritated and hurled thick, oblong shards into the glassy ground. Standing at the edge of the scenery, Zuko stared, puzzled and a little intimidated. The new setting looked treacherous and uneasy, almost mazelike, and he wondered how many hunters before him had gotten lost in the icy labyrinth.

With an annoyed snarl and a gruff exhale, he plodded onward, into the glassy mess. Even if he didn't find a critter in the new landscape, at least he'd be closer to the expansive mountainside since it was settled on the other side.

A few minutes of tireless hiking passed and he weaved through the humongous splinters, mittened fingers digging into his face covering as he walked in the blissful shafts of moonlight. In the maze, the wind was blocked and he wanted to breathe, wanted more of his face exposed. And when his face was completely bare—save the thick bandage surrounding his burned eye—he continued onward, gloves grazing the glasslike, colorful walls. The moon's heavenly light bounced off his parka and poured through the thick shards; the ice filtered it until all variations of crimson poured out the other side, littering the white ground with speckles of dull reds, dusty oranges, and murky yellows.

It's beautiful, he thought, leaving a melted trail in his gloved hand's wake. Perfect.

He continued traipsing, glancing hesitantly left and right as he wound through the labyrinth. He kept his gaze down and looked for animal tracks; but all he saw was the lofty snow from the last blizzard swirling about his booted feet.

When Zuko finally found the end of the labyrinth, he was a little disappointed. He hadn't found a single creature—hadn't even seen anything other than his own reflection bouncing off the pristine ice walls—and he clenched his fists, fearing that he would have to separate his rations into smaller portions. Like a single strip of meat per breakfast and dinner or a handful of nuts over lunch wasn't small enough, already.

He smacked the final ice wall and walked into another landscape. This one didn't look as horrid, though. There were small mounds of packed snow piled high in some areas, blocking his vision. But it was better than the maze and he aggressively lurched forward. The mountain was within his grasp, promising a cave where he could set up a small living area, a permanent yet temporary home until the summertime darkness finally ended or he killed the South's fabled beast. Whichever came first, though he hoped it was the latter.

Into the rolling hills of snow he went, keeping his face covering off and fighting through the nagging wind.

What would Uncle do? Zuko thought when his stomach growled, protesting his small breakfast. He'd probably say something about the spirits and my own negative energy and—

"Arp arp arp!"

The sound caught him off guard and he bristled, left arm at his hip, flicking the clasp of his dagger out so he could withdraw the weapon with ease. When he didn't hear anything else, he crouched and continued walking, keeping himself low and ready to pounce so he could put all of his body weight into his attack. But still, nothing made a noise.

Trying to be soundless, but listening to the frustrating sound of his boots clomping in the snow, he advanced, pulling his dagger out slowly. He rounded a small hill and stilled at the sight.

Right in front of him was a narrow pool of water; off to the side, two tiger-seals were clapping their paws, nipping at each other, and barking in hushed but rambunctious tones. Noticing that they were distracted with their play, Zuko continued forward, dagger in hand, ready to fling it when he was in range. And even though his boots were loud, the daft animals didn't hear him approach. So he crept closer, golden eye narrowing as he took aim.

The very instant he was close enough, the two tiger-seals stopped their play and jerked their noses skyward, sniffing the air greedily. They glanced at each other and immediately started waddling away, retreating toward the small pool. But before they made it, Zuko hurled his knife, impaling one and killing it instantly. The remaining tiger-seal continued to the puddle, disappearing with a graceful splash.

Satisfied with another good kill and the hopes of a decent dinner, Zuko took a few more steps before he was pushed aside and snarled at by the biggest wolf he'd ever seen.

OoOoO

She didn't know how it worked, but when the sky was cloudy and the full moon's light erupted from the sky in fragmented bursts, her curse remained. And even though she was usually pissed to be in her wolf form, she was grateful and delighted by it, now.

She inched forward, claws pricking the snow as she readied herself to attack her unsuspecting prey: a pair of frisky tiger-seals, stupidly playing in her territory. Gone for a few days and suddenly the dumbest creatures on the planet think they can invade her hunting ground without punishment.

Usually, she didn't like the taste of tiger-seal; they were fatty and hard to eat, usually requiring massive amounts of seasoning since they tasted like what they ate: slimy seaweed and rotten animals that they managed to scavenge from the bottom of the ocean. But she was desperately hungry, willing to eat even the worst lot of the food chain.

Ready, she snapped her jaws soundlessly and advanced, keeping herself close to the ground as she slowly inched forward.

And that's when she saw him, red parka glistening against the shifting moonlight, prowling close to her prey, seeking it as his own. Katara sniffed, undeterred, and crept around the pair of tiger-seals, making sure that she kept the firebending hunter in her sights. She was not going to let him scare off another meal. Not again!

One paw in front of the other, hackles extended and ready to pounce, Katara patiently waited. The tiger-seals stopped their mindless chatter and looked skyward, finally catching her scent and knowing that they were in deep shit. She inhaled as their fear invaded the air. If she could've smiled, she would have.

But when the firebending hunter continued to shimmy forward, she frowned and snapped at him from afar. He couldn't sense her warning and he continued to advance, chucking his flimsy dagger at her meal as it barreled away. Katara flung herself past him, knocking him down and snarling. She chomped at him, loudly this time, cursing his very existence. She could've had two tiger-seals. And now, she was left with one.

Inept. Idiotic. Stupid Fire Nationer.

She growled and thought that he'd be intimidated by her aggressive form. But he stood firm, albeit a little shocked, until a sliver of fear corrupted his one-eyed gaze. Satisfied that the firebender wasn't as tough as she originally thought, she quickly turned around, grabbed the dead tiger-seal with her teeth—the hunter's dagger still lodged in its blubbery hide—and pranced off.

"H-hey!" she heard him scream, scrambling after her. "That's mine!"

She thought his shout was humorous and kept running, using her waterbending to cover her tracks so she could gorge on the dead animal's flesh until she was sated. And when she finally found a good location, a good bit away from her home, she sat and dug in, tearing apart the thick hide with gusto.

She didn't hear the footsteps, didn't understand how he could have tracked her down since her bending forms had been flawless, wiping the ground clean. She'd only heard the twirl of his twin blades as they looped in the air behind her.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

OoOoO

"H-hey! That's mine!"

After the initial shock of such a large beast snarling at him, jaws aflame with its hostile rage, Zuko followed, sprinting full-force after the giant, white wolf. Somehow, the mangy creature managed to sweep up its tracks; he didn't know how it was able to do this and payed it no mind, instead continuing forward with his unwavering determination, boots thumping through the snow.

He wasn't angry about the meal; he'd find another…eventually. But the dagger was given to him by his grandfather during their last outing, after they'd killed a platypus-bear in the middle of the Earth Kingdom. It was valuable sentimentally and he couldn't let the beast run off with it. Not when it was the only thing he had left of the man.

Agni must have been shining down on him because as he rounded one curious mound, he stooped low and unsheathed his dao swords.

The wolf was feasting on his kill, maw bloodied and flesh dribbling down its chest. It was gorging, unaware of his approach, unaware that he had managed to follow it. He spun his swords, alerting the animal, respectful; giving it an honorable, fighting chance like he'd been taught by his Uncle Iroh.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The beast paused its hearty consumption and turned, red-coated teeth barred and hackles extended, ready to rip him to pieces.

Another threatening twirl of his swords. A warning.

The clouds dispersed overhead and the wolf stopped its snarling and started whining, its pathetic moans hard to miss. Curious, Zuko watched the monster suffer. The unhindered moonlight shone down and the beast's form twisted in the light. The white hair on its head turned brown, its extended jaw crunched back into a human nose, and arms and legs shed their fur and exposed tan, quaking skin.

And suddenly, crouching before him wasn't a beast. It was…a girl. A naked girl.

Zuko gasped at the strange sight but didn't sheath his blades.

The beast—no, she—brought a trembling wrist to her chin and smeared the blood off her lips. After the blood was wiped away, she hesitantly shifted her head up to look at him, study why he hadn't advanced while she was incapacitated. Her cerulean eyes sprang up and locked onto his gold.

And slowly, she stood, unfazed by her nudity.

Zuko could only stare, eye wide and unblinking…before she ran off, sending a wild flurry of snow in his direction, blinding him. When he managed to open his eye, she had vanished, all evidence of her gone save the dead tiger-seal torn to shreds, his grandfather's dagger still sticking out of its eye socket.

Cautiously, he sheathed his dao, reached down, and dislodged the dagger. He looked down at the remnants of his kill but could only think of one thing: she had blue eyes; cerulean eyes...like the ones in his dream. What did that mean?