Katara woke up pleasantly warm, although her back was stiff and she could feel the cramps in her legs. She lifted her head and blinked drowsily before she squinted irately at the dawn, upset that the orange glow of the sun had woken her up. Then the previous day hit her all over again.

It had been a miserable experience with the thieves. Tied up, threatened with a gag or other bodily harm if she attempted to escape, Katara had been forced to endure them talking about selling her to some perverted politician, and, even worse, about what they were going to do to her. She was deprived of water under the boiling desert sun, not knowing if Zuko was okay or if he would be coming to rescue her.

She hoped that he would. She thought that the two of them had become close enough over the last few weeks for that, at least. But Katara would be lying if she said there wasn't a seed of doubt that whispered in the back of her mind, maybe he won't come for you. Maybe he'll cut his losses and track down Aang instead.

She had felt terror seep into her as dusk had fallen and the men had stopped to make camp. Her mind raced as she thought of ways to fend them off if they tried to hurt her or rape her. But to her relief, none of them had gone near her, except to push a bowl of rice at her.

She thought that maybe it was Dusty's presence. The ostrich horse was aggressive towards all of the men, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of her beak's vicious pecks. Whatever the reason was, Katara was grateful.

It wasn't long before all of the men had fallen asleep, and, exhausted, she'd succumbed to slumber as well. That was when Zuko had come and saved her, like a brave warrior coming to rescue the damsel in distress, like in the stories Gran-Gran had told her as a child (or a prince, her mind whispered traitorously).

They had made camp in a small gully not too far from the thieves' camp. It wasn't much, without a lot of food and minimal water (Zuko had taken back their stolen supplies), and their bedrolls had been left behind. So they had fallen asleep leaning against Dusty, using her saddle blanket for warmth.

But Katara realized now that the blanket hadn't entirely been necessary, as she was absolutely sweating. When she looked over, she saw why: somehow, she had moved closer to Zuko while she slept, until they were pressed side-by-side. His arm had ended up around her shoulders, and she was using his chest as a pillow.

Oh spirits, Katara thought as she stared at his sleeping face. How did this happen?

She was also surprised to find that he was still asleep. He had always woken up before her. But Katara supposed that he had to be tired after slogging it through the desert on foot in pursuit of the thieves, and then...doing what he had done. He'd killed them.

Zuko hadn't come out right and said it. But she knew. I did what I had to do, he'd said. To keep us safe. To keep you safe.

Katara was no stranger to the horrors of war. She'd seen the bloodshed on the day that the Fire Nation had raided her village, with losses on both sides. She had stood on a glacier's edge and watched as her father and Bato had lowered her mother's body, wrapped in a turtleseal skin funeral shroud, into the sea when she was just eight years old. She had watched her father and the other men of her tribe sail off to fight in this war.

Death was just a casualty of war. Katara knew and accepted that fact, even if she had never taken a life. She knew that taking another's life without probable cause was inherently immoral. But Zuko had a good reason. He was trying to keep them safe.

Now she looked at him as she tried to understand this strange boy. He was an enemy. Not just any enemy, but the son of the Fire Lord. Once, Katara had felt that violence and hatred was in his blood. She had assumed that just because he was a firebender, he was evil.

But now Katara knew that there was so much more to Zuko than that. He had done the things he'd done out of desperation. He was a kid, just like she was, just like Sokka and Aang. He was a sixteen year old boy who wanted nothing more than to go home.

Katara could never look at him as an enemy now. They had been through so much together over the last few weeks. They had evolved from enemies to allies, and maybe now they could even be friends. Katara could hope. She knew that there was good in him. Maybe she could convince him to join their side.

She studied his sleeping face. With his short-cropped hair sticking up all over the place, he looked younger. The sharp edges of his face—his strong jawline, aristocratic nose, and high cheekbones—all looked softer. The eyelashes of his unscarred eye were thick and full, his eyebrow arched, his mouth soft. He was good-looking. Beautiful, almost. Even with the scar.

He had put his right side towards her, and from where she sat, she could barely see the scar. Katara had never given it much thought before. She'd assumed that it was some accident, or perhaps he'd gotten it in a fight with another firebender. She wouldn't dare to ask him.

The sun's first rays suddenly washed over them. Katara gasped softly as she watched the golden light illuminate him, shining on his raven hair and glowing against his pale skin. She watched as his eyes slowly opened. Then Zuko looked up at her, his golden eyes turning into pools of honey in the sunlight.

Katara scooted away from him as a blush rose in her cheeks. "Um, good morning."

Zuko also shifted away from her, retracting his arm quickly when he realized she was tucked under it. Did color rise in his cheeks? She thought so. He cleared his throat as he raked one hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it was, before he turned his gaze towards the east.

"Uh, morning," he said, his voice low and husky with sleep.

He got to his feet and stretched. Katara stood up and rooted through their packs, producing two bruised apples. She handed one to him before she stepped away, feeling a bit awkward now. They ate their meager breakfast in silence.

"We need to find a town," Zuko said as he fed Dusty his apple core. "We're running low on supplies."

"Do you have any idea where the nearest one is?" Katara asked him.

He frowned as he grabbed the saddle blanket. "I think there's one to the north of here, if I remember right. It's just a small farming village like Kuchon. I think it's called Gangju."

She checked their waterskins. "We better find it fast. We're almost out of water."

Zuko pulled himself into Dusty's saddle. "Let's get going, then."

The sun climbed steadily higher in the sky, and with it, the temperature rose to the hottest it had been since they had left Gaoling. Sweat poured down his face and back, leaving him overheated and sticky. Zuko's stomach rumbled, but they only had a small portion of rice left, and even less water to cook it with.

Behind him, Katara was quiet and subdued. He tried not to think too much about it, but he couldn't help but feel that she was feeling off-put by what he had done. But what did she expect? She'd seen what happened when the thieves were left alive the first time. Zuko did what he had to do. He needed to keep her safe. And, given what she had told him, Zuko had made the right call.

But even knowing that, Zuko's stomach still churned uneasily. He had never killed anyone before. He always tried to disarm and subdue his opponents. He didn't have much of a stomach for killing, like his father and sister. Even his uncle had told him to spare lives wherever he could, and to only kill when necessary.

They camped at the base of a small hill that night. Katara had found some desert flowers, and they nibbled on those and ate the last of their rice. Katara portioned their water, and it was not nearly enough. They needed to find that village, and soon.

The two of them leaned up against Dusty and stared into the small fire that he had made after they were done eating. Zuko broke the silence.

"If you're bothered by what I did last night, you can just tell me," he said quietly.

Katara looked up at him, surprised. "I'm not."

His brow furrowed. "You aren't?"

"Well, I mean…" She chewed her bottom lip. "It's not something to take lightly, but I know why you did it. And I'm a little relieved, because I know those men will never be able to hurt me or anyone else ever again."

Zuko felt relief wash over him, although he wasn't sure why he cared what she thought. But you do care, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. He pushed that thought away.

"I don't go out of my way to take someone's life," Zuko said quietly. "But I did what I thought was necessary."

"I think you made the right call." She reached out and put her hand over his. "Thank you."

Zuko's eyes flickered from her hand, cool and smooth against his, before he met her gaze, earnest and sincere. Something fluttered in his stomach, and he swallowed hard. Then Katara pulled her hand away and looked back at the fire.

"You're welcome," he said gruffly. "We should get some sleep."

Zuko settled down against Dusty, crossing his arms over his chest. A moment later, he felt Katara slide a little bit closer to him. Not quite touching, but he could feel her close by. He opened one eye and peeked over at her. She had turned so her side was leaned against the ostrich horse, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. She looked so small and tired, although Zuko knew what kind of strength she possessed. She was anything but fragile.

He closed his eye. Soon, he fell asleep.