Chapter 21
AN: If you have ever left me a review or comment, please know you've helped write this story. I thrive on external validation, so every "good job" or "I love this story" has helped me push through when it felt like too much work or that I was just throwing chapters into the wind. I really cannot thank you enough for supporting me. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
"TIME sweeps through me like a wind;
Space engulfs me like a sea.
Time and Space are at me always—
They will not let me be.
I am weary, weary with years,
Troubled by immensity.
With eternities around me,
How can I be free?"
-Marjorie Meeker, "Comrades"
Zuko hit the dias hard, the pain in his shoulder excruciating.
How could one arrow hurt so much, he wondered before trying to push himself to his feet. Around him, he heard screams of pain and clashes of metal against metal.
"Aang!" he called. "Aang, what's going on?"
When his voice was lost in the din of fighting, he grabbed the arrow with his right hand and yanked. He cried out from the shock of the pain, and for a moment, the world went black. When his vision came back in blurry pinpricks, he saw his men fight an invisible foe— arrows appeared from dark windows and spears jutted between bodies in the crowd. Zuko struggled to his feet, but suddenly he was supported by a woman in a dark, hooded robe.
"Zuko, we've got to get you out of here," she whispered.
For a moment, the excruciating pain made Zuko feel delirious. "Katara?" he asked.
"Put your good arm around my shoulder," the woman said from under the hood. "That's it. Keep your head down."
She half-pushed him off the dias and into an alley. Zuko began to sit on a barrel, but she tugged him forward. "We can't stop now, you're not safe."
Zuko allowed the woman to pull him toward the refugee camp on the outskirts of Szenton. She pointed to a tent set a bit apart from the others. She lifted the flap for him and he ducked inside, groaning at the pain from his shoulder. Inside, the tent was more spacious than he'd realized. A small bedroll lay in one corner, and the floor was covered with wool blankets. Bottles and jars were lined up on the top of a wooden chest.
"What is this?" Zuko asked groggily.
"Lie down and shut your eyes," the woman ordered. The hood still covered her face.
Zuko collapsed gratefully, too exhausted to wonder if he was in danger. He shut his eyes, but they flew open when the woman began unfastening the ties on his shirt.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"You're hurt, aren't you?" she snapped. "I said shut your eyes. This is going to feel a lot worse before it feels better."
Zuko closed his eyes again, and it was not long before the woman pulled back his blood-stained clothes.
"You were an idiot for pulling out the arrow," she said.
"What?"
"If the arrow had struck an artery, you'd have bled to death before I had gotten you here. You were lucky this time, but don't count on that in the future."
"Can I open my eyes now?"
"No."
Zuko heard the clink of glass bottles as she rummaged through the clutter on the chest. "Well, can I at least get a name?"
"Call me Zya."
"I'm Zuko."
"I know who you are, Fire Lord."
Zuko groaned as he felt a cool cloth press to his burning shoulder. The relief was too brief before a stinging sensation burst from his shoulder.
"Ah, spirits!"
Zya pushed him back onto the bedroll. "I said it would be worse before it got better," she said. "I believe the arrow was dipped in poison, although I'm not sure what kind yet. I need to draw it out before you can start to heal. Otherwise you'll just get worse."
Zya grunted a bit as she worked on his shoulder. The tent smelled sweet from the tinctures and medicines mixed with sweat. Although he still hadn't seen her face, her voice sounded as clear as a cold mountain stream, and the confidence with which she spoke made her sound older than she likely was. He resisted the urge to open his eyes as he felt another sting pulse through his shoulder.
"Spirits, I wish you'd just left me there to die," he said through gritted teeth.
"With the way you're complaining, I'm starting to think that too." Zya continued cleaning his shoulder with the cool cloth. "I'm going to make you a drink. You'll start to feel sleepy. It will be easier for me to work on you if you're not writhing around." Zuko opened his eyes, but a cloth immediately covered them.
"What's all the secrecy for?" he complained. A nagging feeling in his stomach warned him of the danger he was still in, but he tried to tamp it down.
"You may like the spotlight, Fire Lord, but not all of us do," she replied. She helped him sit up and he felt something touch his lips. He opened his mouth and tasted a warm, sweet drink. "You're safe here," she said as Zuko drifted off to sleep.
. . . . .
He dreamt of Katara.
She had been so absent from his thoughts of late that seeing her face felt like returning to Ember Island every summer as a child: joy bubbling through him like water in a kettle over a fire. She didn't seem to share his excitement though. She stood next to a waterfall, and her body was swathed in dark robes, a light veil over her face. She was trying to tell him something, but her words were lost in the roar of the waterfall. Zuko reached for her, but he slid backward from her as if he was on an icy pond. "Katara!" he yelled, but even he couldn't hear his voice over the sound of the crashing water.
When he jerked awake, the pain in his shoulder was reduced to a dull throb. The tent was dark, only lit by a lantern with its shade almost closed. As Zuko looked around, the tent flap lifted and the woman entered. Her hood covered her face.
"Oh good, you're awake. Here, I brought you porridge from the camp. How's your shoulder?"
"It feels better," Zuko admitted, sitting up and taking the bowl of porridge from her. He balanced it awkwardly on his lap.
"Your friends are worried about you. No one knows where you went. I think it's better you stay here until they find out who it is that wanted to kill you."
"You know, I haven't seen your face yet," Zuko said. "Maybe you're the one who wanted to kill me."
She laughed, and Zuko felt a pang of recognition hit his chest as painful and enlightening as a lightning strike. "Fire Lord, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."
Zuko lunged toward her, knocking his porridge to the ground. She moved to deflect him, but his hand grasped her hood and pulled it from her face. Clear blue eyes met his as she flicked her wrist. The porridge he had spilled flew up into his eyes.
"Katara!" Zuko wiped away the porridge she had bended to blind him. When his eyes were clear, he saw she was already gone.
. . . . .
Zuko winced as he pulled his robes back on. Katara had been in this village the whole time. If he moved quickly, he could catch up to her. Unfortunately, showing his face meant risking his life again. Zuko looked around for a cloak. The tent was small but maybe she had stowed away extra clothes in the chest. He knocked the glass bottles to the ground and opened the chest. Inside were packets that smelled like bitter herbs, scrolls, and envelopes. Zuko picked one up and scrutinized it. He recognized Suki's handwriting immediately, but it was addressed to Zya Ling. Hadn't Katara told him to call her Zya?
Zuko rummaged through the chest, but it only contained more herbs and papers. Sighing, he grabbed the blanket off the bedroll and draped it over his head. If anyone saw his scar, the gig was up.
As he left the tent, he was thankful Katara had set it up farther from the refugee camp. It allowed him to sneak toward the forest without coming face to face with anyone. He guessed Katara would be drawn to the forest from all her time spent camping with Aang and Sokka, but he knew it was only a guess. She also could have gone straight for the sea, to disappear from his life again.
He headed toward the woods, looking for Katara's footprints, but the grass kept her secrets. Once he was inside the cover of the trees, his heart rate slowed, and he pulled the blanket from his head.
"Katara?" he called. "I just want to talk." He realized immediately this tactic would not work with her. If she wanted to speak to him, she wouldn't have left. She wouldn't have left months ago either.
Instead, he took a deep breath, steeled himself against the pain in his shoulder, and looked for broken twigs, disturbed piles of leaves, anything to hint at someone's passage. As he continued through the forest looking for signs, he wondered why he hadn't recognized her immediately. Her voice didn't sound quite like her. Her lithe body was so wrapped up in heavy robes that he didn't recognize it either. In fact, she hadn't carried herself with her usual grace. She had seemed stooped, like an old woman. The months must have been hard on her.
Zuko continued through the forest, scanning the ground for anything that could point him in the right direction. After several long minutes, he was about ready to turn back, when he noticed a darkening among the shrubs fifty feet ahead. Picking his way over logs and through bushes, Zuko realized he had stumbled upon a simple path. It was narrow, and could have been made by deer, but he followed his intuition and took the path deeper into the forest.
As the trees became denser and less sunlight filtered through the trees, Zuko felt a sense of foreboding and decided to follow the path from the safety of the trees. Walking parallel to the deer path, Zuko continued through the forest, holding his shoulder with his hand when it began to throb. If Katara was somewhere down this path, he'd find her.
Suddenly, he heard voices. Zuko darted further into the trees, but continued his slow trek parallel to the path toward the sound of the voices. As he got closer, he saw a camp had been set up in the woods. Men and women with black armbands on their left arms carried boxes labeled with the Fire Nation insignia. Beneath the insignia were the characters that read "CAUTION: EXPLOSIVES." As Zuko backed away in horror, he suddenly realized who had set the village on fire.
AN: I can't wait to hear what you think! So much is happening in this chapter and I'm so excited to what you think is going to happen! Please leave a comment or DM me!
