Note: This chapter happens just after The Seige of the North, as he and Iroh are floating along on the old raft, searching for land.
Drifting
Drifting,
Drifting by;
Time passes with no stalls,
No halts.
The sky is barren of clouds,
The ocean sways with song.
We are alone in this desert of waters;
Drifting along,
No path to trail.
Sighing I wearily lean against the wooden post as we float aimlessly across this endless prairie. The tides smooth out the dead silence as uncle rests. Two weeks, fourteen days of ocean, of no destination. We are lost; there is nothing but water and ice. We are alone.
Mind racing back to the disaster, Zhao's rejection reflects. I see the avatar in my hands, snow grazing the earth. I remember the awry quiet lingering as I waited in that cave. That storm would not bar for me. It would be too easy, to simple to change my life for once.
He could never understand me, he finds life so simple, so light, but he doesn't know strife, he doesn't feel pain and regret. He does not understand.
This deaf, lifeless ocean, this never-ending sky, it does not bare mercy to my mind. Glancing into the washing, wistful waves I do feel some relief, some sort of feeling. At this moment we are free of troubles, free of our pasts, as we simply drift on.