Chapter Five: Now The Candle Burns At Both Ends
He was walking through the thick snow. The drifts were higher than they should have been at his height and his mother shouldn't have been holding his hand - she was dead. But, upon realization, he wasn't fifteen anymore, he was eight. Other than that, the invisible path he seemed to follow was familiar. The snow was coming down in a blinding sheet, carpeting everything in white except what he followed. It was red and the snow couldn't cover it.
He felt his eight-year-old tears rolling across his cheeks, freezing at his chin. There shouldn't have been blood. His mother was holding the severed paw in her other hand. It wasn't bleeding because it was frozen. He could see it. Just like the snow there was red on white, where red shouldn't have been. The coldness in his other hand bit back and he realized, then, he was holding the trap. The evil steel device also carried the dark liquid between its large teeth. It grinned back at him.
They came to the top of a pale dune and looked down into the recesses of the valleys and hills facing them. There was a large pack of wolves, crowded where the trail stopped. He couldn't help but let go of his mother's hand and run toward them. The large gray animals, aware of his presence, scattered uncharacteristically leaving the mess of flesh and bone and blood.
Sokka felt himself change. He was running toward the body at the bottom of the snow valley, every step he took he felt himself grow. He was becoming older. The carcass was no longer a mess of color, he could make out the head and the body, and legs, pawless… Sokka was now fifteen again. He dropped down to his knees next to the animal.
The icy wind was no longer chilling, the iceberg in is gut made everything around him warm. He slowly rolled it over, the wolves had eaten out the snow leopard's entrails and the movement made a small whooshing as parts of the intestine and bile joined the ground. Sokka covered his mouth, "Shit…"
The leopard's head flopped and angled at him, large yellow eyes were focused accusingly. He had seen the look before, once, when he was in a dark place, pressed shoulder to shoulder. The eyes were dead. Staring, he suddenly realized he was still holding the steel trap. And he dropped it at once, unable to differentiate between the dead leopard's stare and the yellow eyes of the banished prince.
Sokka opened his own eyes and realized he was no longer in the snow, a cell, or even on the ship's deck. He lay on his back in the sand; the sunlight was streaming somewhere just above the horizon. He shuddered suddenly and wondered how he had ended up in such a peaceful setting. As he sat up, something caught his wrist. Groggily he tugged back before realizing what was at the other end, but there was no prompted response. Slowly, he sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with his good hand.
They lay behind a large piece of driftwood and Sokka rested his back against the log. He vaguely remembered lying on the open beach, smiling. As the memories reached him he also remembered moving up the shoreline and falling, unceremoniously against the log ofr support as the adrenaline in his system died away. The prince had done the same, not a word of criticism or complaint.
The sun was rising beyond the forest in front of them, casting them and the beach in shadow. Sokka shook his head and looked over the log, over the horizon. The ocean was sparkling brilliantly, speaking softly to him in familiar tones as it lapped the shore. Sokka inhaled the soft breeze and turned, looking left, along the coastline. It was a white sun-drenched beach, glowing in the dawn. Above, the sky was clear, except for the black cloud that slowly moved from the far left, growing in size… It was the smoke from a coal burning Fire Nation ship, most likely one of Zhao's.
Sokka ducked down on instinct.
The Water Tribesman swallowed because his throat had become dry and looked over at the prince. The other teen lay sprawled on his side. His eyes were closed and there was no sign of life on his pale face. So Sokka studied him from a distance, watching the fair skinned teen warily as vignettes of the dream haunted the back of his mind. Eventually, gathering his courage in his gut, Sokka scooted over to the deathly looking firebender. He sat on his knees next to the prince and looked down.
Asleep, the prince's features were almost fine and elegant, much like Sokka had always thought royalty should look. But when he was awake any sense of regal elegance was replaced with the stern frown that seemed to linger continuously on his face. And the scar… the terrible scar stared up at Sokka and he found himself thinking if the scar hadn't been placed on the prince's face the other boy would have been remotely handsome - only, of course, to a woman.
He dismissed the thought and concentrated on what to do next, assuming the other boy was alive.
Carefully, he placed the back of his free hand near the prince's mouth, feeling for any sign of breathing. There was a soft exhale and warm breath hit his skin, causing him to realize how cold he actually was. As he wished for his parka, he couldn't help wondering how the prince had survived the night in such thin, sleeveless clothing. But, he reminded himself, that was beside the point at the moment and he was a firebender.
"Hey," Sokka whispered, rolling the prince on his back and shaking him as gently as he could. "Wake up."
The prince's response was slow for the seasoned warrior Sokka was accustom to seeing. The teen groaned, trying to roll away from the tribesman, but his mind kicked in and he sat up abruptly, wincing at the sudden movement. Taking in the situation the prince laid back against the log. The prince seemed to relax and rolled his shoulders, testing the tense muscles.
The golden stare rested on Sokka with dull accusation, "Where the hell am I?"
"I'm not sure… On a beach?" Sokka said and felt uncomfortable. Sokka avoided the prince's eyes, finding the scar was uncomfortable to stare into. So instead he looked over the firebender's shoulder, where the black smoke was bellowing over the treetops. It was growing ever so closer.
"A Fire Nation ship is coming." Sokka nodded over to the black smoke rising and wet his lips.
Immediately the prince's eyes followed his line of sight and Sokka could see his good eye narrow, again, the chained wrist shook with indistinguishable fear or rage.
"We have to leave. Now."
"Where are we going?" Sokka asked as the prince used the driftwood as a brace, pushing himself up. Sokka simply stood.
"It really doesn't matter," the prince said, finally on his feet. "As long as we're away from him."
"I completely agree, but…"
"We have a few minutes before they come into view," the prince said quickly, interrupting him, and began to move toward the forest, tugging Sokka along by the wrists.
Sokka followed, because he didn't know what else to do. Zhao had already tried to kill them in the sea, there was no doubt in the boy's mind that the commander would try to do it again on land. Glancing back toward the driftwood, he spotted the outline of their bodies and footprints leading toward the forest.
"We have to cover our tracks," Sokka said quickly and looked toward the forest. The prince seemed to silently agree and followed Sokka to the edge of the undergrowth. The tribesman picked up a fallen branch, inspecting the full thickets of thin leaves. It was heavy and he dragged it toward the driftwood.
"Hurry up," the prince urged, his eyes darting toward the ever-nearing smoke. Sokka could feel his unease and it worried the tribesman, whatever could get under the prince's skin was something to worry about.
Sokka swiftly backtracked and began sweeping it across the sand, erasing any trace of their presence. He was mildly surprised when the prince grasped the branch also, helping him sweep back and forth, erasing their presence. They backed up, toward the forest, continuing to sweep at the sand until it diminished into rock and dirt. They set down branch and Sokka turned toward the ocean in time to see the sharp front of the ship protruding from behind the trees.
"Come on," the prince hissed and caught the tribesman's wrist, plunging them both into the undergrowth.
They moved at a slow run through the trees. Sokka judged, from the mix of tall pines, golden leaved oaks, and small shrubby green underbrush that they were somewhere north, in earthbender territory. He wasn't sure whether the earthbenders would be hospitable. It was unlikely if they were anything like the guards at Omashu. And they would be worse, he reasoned, especially considering he was chained to a firebender. Even if the prince was exiled or banished, whatever, he was still loyal to the Fire Nation and Sokka couldn't' trust him. It occurred to him that he had twice as much to watch out for now. He was a prisoner, it couldn't be overlooked.
"Where are we going again?" He dared to ask once more after they were safe within the shade and the prince had slowed down. Around them the woodland closed in ominously and Sokka found it hard to walk side by side with the Prince.
The prince's eyes fell on the Water Tribe boy but he turned away, "A village. Anywhere but here."
It was frustrating; there was no plan. It was dangerous and it was thoughtless and he found himself disagreeing with it, evenit there seemed to be no other alternative. Sokka drew into himself dwelling on his friends. They hadn't come for him and no matter how much he hoped. Even if he'd made her promise… Well, atleast he knew they were safe. He wanted that safety, though. He wanted the security blanket that the Avatar provided, the notion that everything would be okay in the end and they would save the world, the naivety of the twelve year old made him nostalgic.
He knew opening his mouth would lead to something painful, he couldn't help ridicule the other teen, so, he said, letting the cynicism drip from his voice,"Just great. You don't have an fucking idea do you?"
The prince was quick to react to his derision. Grabbing Sokka's shackled wrist and twisting it behind his back the prince pushed the tribesman forward, slamming his chest into the nearest tree. Sokka exhaled painfully as the prince leaned into him, the pressure threatening to crush his ribs.
"And I suppose," the prince said through gritted teeth. "That you would prefer to be back on Zhao's ship." Hot breath reached the back of his neck as the firebender spoke and Sokka wriggled, trying to escape the firebender's hold. "I saved you're life, you are my prisoner, I decide where we're going and we're going away. Don't try to belittle me." Nails were digging into the scalded flesh and he was reminded of the sea.
"I saved your life, too! Twice." He found himself shouting as he winced and shut his eyes. Thinking back to the battlefield and the ocean, both times holding the prince, dragging him to momentary safety. "Right now, were even - we're the same."
The prince spun Sokka around so they were face to face, keeping the tribesman's shackled hand and his pressed against the boy's chest. "We are not the same," he said in a low venomous voice, face very close to the other boy's, glaring. "We were never, and we will never be. Don't try to compare yourself to me, peasant." Roughly the prince let go of the boy's arm.
Sokka could feel the heat rising to his face. The prince was an asshole. Stubbornly, Sokka stood in place as the prince turned away moving into the forest. The chain on their wrists caught and the firebender looked at him with infuriation in his eyes, "I suggest you start moving unless you want me to kill you on the spot."
"I don't think you can," Sokka said defiantly and hopped his bluff was more than just that, a bluff.
"Do you have a death wish, peasant?" The firebender sensed the change in demeanor and the unscathed eye narrowed further. The prince shifted his stance to a defensive posture and continued watching Sokka warily.
"No, but I do know if you do decide to kill me with bending the smoke will attract our favorite commander," Sokka stepped closer to the bender, courage gathering in his being. "And I doubt you want that since you're so terrified of being captured."
"And if I decide to snap your neck?" the prince asked coldly, his fingers twitching as if he was holding himself back. Sokka guessed he was, the "terrified" comment was not going over well.
"Then you'd have to drag my dead body to where ever you're going," Sokka said. "If you want to burn me… well that brings us back to what I first said."
They both knew he was right and Sokka was enjoying the twitch in the prince's good eye. The prince seemed to already known the consequences of killing the other boy, but hadn't intended for the tribesman to use it against him. There was a small sense of victory in the back of Sokka's mind - he'd stood up to the banished prince of the Fire Nation and won. For now, his reason nagged. The prince could be unpredictable, but as long as his loathing (or fear) of Zhao was greater than his dislike for the water tribesman, Sokka assumed he would stay alive.
Infuriated, the prince turned away, sparks flying from his fingertips, causing Sokka to jump back a bit and shake his wrist. Zuko refused to acknowledge the water tribesman's victory, so instead he said, "Don't tempt me, peasant."
"By the way, its 'Sokka'," the tribesman called after him, struggling to keep up. "The 'peasant' thing is really getting old."
The prince pushed a branch back, sidestepped it, and let go. There was a satisfying cry from behind him and the peasant known as 'Sokka' devolved into incoherent grumbling, taking to kicking rocks at the back of the prince's boots.
They had lapsed into silence as the sun reached an apex in the sky. It had been the water tribesman's idea to travel upstream, in the stream. It would throw off anyone who tried to track them, he'd said, before plunging into the ankle deep water. Zuko was sure the water was cold when the boy winced and the prince agreed, stepping in himself. There was a sadistic pleasure found in watching the other teen rub his shoulders and complain, constantly, about the water's temperature and how the chill spread up his body.
Noticing the firebender's stare, Sokka looked at him asking, "Aren't you cold?"
"Standard infantry boots are waterproof. Mine are insulated," he said it smugly, letting the other teen seethe and turn away resentfully.
"You're such a bastard," the teen grumbled and rubbed his shoulders again looking into the sky, it was clear. There was no defensive reply and Sokka tilted his head looking at the prince. He couldn't see the scar.
"So…" Sokka let the words hang in the air, searching for a comfortable subject. There was a rumble that stopped both in their tracks. Sokka was almost sure it was some form of animal, and the prince seemed to think the same, standing defensively in the icy water.
The growl came again and there was a stabbing feeling in Sokka's stomach. He realized he hadn't eaten in over a day; he was starved.
---
Zuko stood by the silly Water Tribe boy as he tried to spear a fish. They had stopped when the stream led toward a small pond, the sun now westward and growing lower. His own stomach was telling him he needed nourishment, but it wasn't as loud as the other teen's. He was a liability, Zuko found himself thinking; if he didn't slow the prince down he would attract unwanted attention, both with his mouth and his stomach.
The "spear" consisted of a willowy rod, broken sharply at one end, becoming blunt with every attempt. Expectedly Sokka missed again and cursed. Throwing the stick into the water, he turned away.
"You want to give it a try?" Sokka asked Zuko huffily at the prince's condescending expression.
The prince raised his arm, indicating the cuffs, he was right handed after all. "You want to take these off?"
Zuko let the tugging at his wrists draw him away from the water. It was difficult, he thought, watching the boy of his age laugh and smile. But talking with the boy, interacting with him, playing the role of a teenager - that, Zuko found, was awkward. The dark skinned boy seemed unaware of the danger so near to him… or, perhaps, he was aware, yet chose to ignore it, which Zuko was unable to do.
"So," the Idiot, as Zuko has branded him, asked and moved toward the bushes, foraging for anything edible. "Why are you after Aang - I mean the Avatar anyway?"
"My forefathers have hunted him for a hundred years," Zuko said. "He'll insure the Fire Nation's victory and my honor."
"Let me get this straight," Sokka pulled himself out of the bushes and stared at the prince, pieces of undergrowth sticking out of his hair. "You're willing to sacrifice the fate of the world for your honor?" He shook his head and turned away. "And my sister calls me selfish."
"It's more than that, you fool," Zuko said and wondered if the loud-mouthed boy had any tact at all. He dared speak to prince in such a manner. "My life rests on catching the Avatar - whether he's ten or a hundred, it doesn't matter."
"You are selfish," the Idiot said. "And by the way, he's only twelve."
Zuko felt his chest flicker and inhaled, calming himself. Setting the Idiot ablaze was tempting, but with Zhao's ship so close - and his men, most likely, already on the beach- he couldn't risk the chance. Bodies burned slowly, Zuko remembered and he didn't have the time.
There was an upside to the loud-mouthed boy; if he continued talking he would (probably) reveal the whereabouts of the Avatar. He shook his head to clear it. With the Avatar he could dishonor that bastard in front of the royal court - everyone. The Avatar was more than just his honor now. He was vengeance, and Zuko felt a sense of urgency welling in him. It mattered; there was only a limited amount of time…
"Hey," the Water Tribe boy waved his hand in front of the prince's face. "There's a bush of lantern berries over there, mind moving?"
Silent and exasperated, Zuko pushed through the underbrush, following the elated Water Tribesman.
The "bush" turned out to be more of a vine with small fruits incased in a lantern-like skin. Upon further inspection, Zuko found a small ruby fruit the size of his uncle's lotus tile inside, petite and red. He ate the berry and grimaced at the acidic after taste, it wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected. Like eating blood, swallowing it, seeds and all.
"You don't want to eat the stem or casings," Sokka said through a mouthful of berries, watching Zuko with bright eyes. Adding, "They're somewhat poisonous," as an after thought.
The cold knife that was deception ran through the prince's spine. If the other boy had wanted to poison him he could have easily. Yet, Zuko suspected the other didn't want to deal with the transportation of his corpse. The rift between them had grown.
"It's an acquired taste, I guess," Sokka said and swallowed, the bulging mass of fruit somehow slipping down his throat. "Aang doesn't really like them either."
Zuko scoffed internally at being compared to the Avatar (he wasn't one the Idiot's friends) and ate another berry to spite the boy. This time he didn't grimace. Indifferently he leaned against the tree the vines snaked along and asked, "How does someone from the Water Tribe know so much about the Earth Kingdom forests?"
The other teen raised an eyebrow at the prince's sudden interest. "My father taught me," he said and ate another berry. His voice was proud. "He fought with earthbenders during the siege on Bai Sing Sei and picked up a few tricks. I suppose your father taught you how to bend?"
"No," Zuko said laconically and looked to the sky. It was clear. "I had my uncle, and tutors, they taught me when my father had more pressing matters to attend to."
"Matter more important than his son? That's pretty harsh."
Zuko turned a dark glare to the other boy, "I don't expect you to understand my family's ways. After all, you grew up in an igloo somewhere on that godforsaken chunk of ice, I'm royalty."
The subject burned him. His father was not a man to stoop and bestow time on teaching his son something basic, something another could teach. It wasn't logical but it wasn't fair. There had been a candle within him, a small flame in his chest, that ate away at the wax. Zuko felt it flame up, burning faster, harder, bright, darker. He was jealous and the notion was scornful.
"Judging from your tribe's size, I'd say your men haven't come back from battle yet," Zuko was, slowly, letting the flame overtake him. Bluest eyes stared back at him, defiant in silence. There was the urge from somewhere in his stomach to close them permanently. "Most of the Fire Nation's victories have been in the south. I wouldn't look forward to a cheery family reunion any time soon."
The other boy looked as if the berry's toxins were kicking in. Hate filled the pools of his eyes and he was livid. But then, a great calm swept over him and he turned his eyes to the ground. The reaction startled the prince; it wasn't expected.
"So, who banished you?" No, no murderous intent at all; just weak attacks, dull jabs at the ribs, poking fun and then a slash to the jugular: "Your father, huh?"
A feral growl escaped the firebender as he found himself trapped and caged. There was no way out, there was no answer he could give without the figurative razor slicing through his throat. He chose silence. Roughly turning away, pulling Sokka along with him. The boy yelped and stumbled after. Wisely, the barrage of questions ended and silence followed.
The answer, nevertheless, was known to both of them and Zuko couldn't help but feel the cracks in his armor grate together mockingly.
It matters not, it matters not, it matters not… though. His bandaged arm reached to the back of his neck and traced a small incision. It mattered not, if they were marked - both of them.
---
Nightfall brought the creatures out and drove them into a ravine for shelter. Assuming safety under a tree's large roots, they settle in for the hours of darkness to come. It was Sokka's idea, again, to pack the crevice with dry leaves. For warmth, he said, and lay down cursing the cold air, the moon's dimness through he trees, and the firebender's insistence on meditation.
The prince had sat next to him with his legs woven together in an uncomfortable looking position. His eyes were closed and his breathing controlled. Sokka felt like disturbing him, wanting to break the silence and the sounds of night, but he held back.
There was a closeness between them that kept him from moving as the prince's right wrist drew his fist along his outer thigh. Closeness that made him remember back to the sea where he was pressed tight against the other boy, holding on to him with the hope of both their survival.
It was different now.
They fought with words and gestures. They couldn't kill each other, so they fought, throwing their family, blood, and knowledge like blasting jelly grenades. Sokka couldn't deny that he had stabbed the prince twice. First waiting for the teen to eat the berries, then telling him of their properties. He'd meant it as a warning: Don't think your so great and powerful, your highness. I'm not an idiot. And secondly, he'd plunged his dagger straight into the prince's heart, bleeding what blood that was left out of Zuko's chest at the mention of his father and banishment.
It was all different now.
Sleep was dancing his eyelids closed when he felt the prince shift and lay down next to him. Fingers brushing his palm. He opened one eye to peek at the firebender and found the other teen staring back. Rather disturbed, he opened both eyes and turned on his side, facing the bender.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Do you have a cut on the back of your neck?" The question was odd. Sokka reached behind his head and felt the skin. Indeed there was an abrasion, small and deep; it itched on contact.
"Yeah." He said and asked, "why?"
There was a hesitant pause before the firebender reached over with his bandaged arm, resting it on Sokka' shoulders. Two warm fingers trailing down the base of his neck finding the wound, fingering it, and pulling back. Sokka shivered as the prince drew away and rolled onto his back.
"I think Zhao marked us, that's all."
Something was being kept for him, locked away in the firebender's golden eyes. Clandestine and protected, it prodded him and laughed at his ignorance.
"Oh." There was another pause and Sokka was becoming tired of the silence between them. "Do you have one?"
"Yes."
There was not much to be said after that point; Sokka wrapped his free arm around himself. It was cold.
"You do realize the complication of your situation," the prince's voice cut through the darkness. "This isn't some fun little quest. When I get back to my ship and the record is set straight, you will be treated like the prisoner you are. Don't expect anything special because of this situation."
"Yeah…" Sokka said quietly into the tangle of roots above him. "I know."
"Good." The leaves cracked as Zuko shifted a bit, finding a comfortable position.
The prince was an arrogant, self-centered, bastard with a softly sleeping face. Sokka preferred to remember the ocean, or even, the hasty moments when they drug the branch across the sand, erasing the outlines of their bodies - erasing their time in the sea, their codependency on one and other.
He'd been naïve at first, and he knew it, but the feeling was good. The boy next to him could almost have been a friend, something like Aang or, even, Katara. But the branch swept it all away and they'd plunged into turmoil, into the trees.
Sokka felt any sense of friendship between them die in the darkness.
To Be Continued In…
Chapter Six: There Is Not Much Left of Me
Breaking points are reached and Sokka uses his last weapon against Zuko.
[edited 03.14.2009]