Shattered
Chapter Seven
Anko planted her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile. It had taken all morning, but her chores were finally caught up. The supplies from the village were neatly put away, Max's sweat soaked harness was cleaned and hung up, and the mule himself was enjoying a fresh, grassy pasture. All in all, a most productive morning. She turned to regard the gentle slope rising from beyond her house. I should check on the upper field and see what work I need to do before planting it. Her eyes caught sight of a large reddish bounding shape leaving the house. Misha the foxcat stopped her flight to begin vigorously grooming herself in the front yard.
Her attention drawn to the house, Anko was torn. As the sole worker on her farm, she survived by working long efficient hours. Setting aside time to nursemaid a Fire Nation soldier wasn't exactly a part of her standard agenda. Maybe I should just take him back to town. The healer should have returned by now. Still the thought rankled her and she dismissed it. "Always finish what you start"; that's what her Grandfather used to say. Anko glanced up at the sun. It was almost directly overhead anyways. She could check on the boy and grab some lunch at the same time.
Zuko hadn't been laying there long when he heard footsteps approaching. The large red cat appeared first, its odd three-legged gait carrying it easily across the porch and into the house. Bare human feet followed closely behind; they stopped in the doorway. Feeling oddly emotionless and numb, Zuko let his eyes travel upwards, taking in the human standing there. It was a woman, around middle aged, by the looks of her. He took in the plain brown pants and the homespun tan tunic she was wearing. Shoulder length raven hair, marred by silver at the temples, framed in an angular face. Her skin was tan and her black eyes were naturally narrowed, the beginnings of crow's feet sprouting from the corners. The head cocked to one side, dark eyes regarding him as he looked at her. I wonder how she's going to react. Zuko found the thought vaguely amusing. She's probably going to run screaming for her husband. Whatever reaction he expected, what he received was far from it.
"If you're going to kill yourself, boy, you could at least have courtesy enough to not do it all over my nice clean floor."
Anko had taken in the room in one sweeping gaze. The boy, the knife, the blood, the dead rat, even the scorch mark on the floor, nothing escaped her. The teen lay on the floor, golden eyes alert and focused on her. The puddle of blood under his sliced wrist wasn't enough to warrant panic; instead she focused her attention on the foxcat twining itself around her legs. Best not to make a fuss she decided. Ignoring the bleeding teen, she addressed the cat. "Yes, yes Misha. I can see that you've killed another water rat. Good girl." She bent to scratch the feline behind its tufted ears. "You really didn't need to bring it in though."
She entered her kitchen, grabbed a clean knife from a drawer and moved over to the table; the teen's eyes following her every movement. Uncovering the bread and cheese that was to be her lunch, she sliced off a large hunk of cheese and tossed it out the door as a reward to the cat. Misha scrambled after, poofy tail held high in a happy question mark shape. Grimacing a little, Anko snagged the soggy carcass by its bare rat tail and threw that outside as well. All the while, she kept the soldier in the corner of her sight, watching for any sudden movement. There was none. He remained still, watching her with passive interest. She went back to the kitchen to put a kettle on her stove, washing her hands thoroughly before returning. Wordlessly she bent down and snagged the bloody knife off the floor. She tossed it into the wash tub beneath the water pump, the loud clatter jarring in the silence.
Still no movement from the teen. Anko found herself half inclined to leave him on the floor. Frowning in annoyance she caught his uninjured arm and hauled him to his feet. Hooking a chair with her bare foot, she pulled it out and planted him in it firmly. She took his cut arm and placed it bloody side up on the table. The firebender allowed her manipulations without resistance. His golden eyes stared dully at his own wounds. Anko hated the lifeless look in his eyes.
She took a clean rag and wiped off the now drying blood. As she suspected, the wrist cut was too shallow to be life threatening; already the wound had clotted. The longer cut on his arm was superficial. A bandage will suffice. She lifted her gaze to take in the boy's face. No. This one already has too many scars, outside and in. The least I can do is spare him another. Mind made up, she once again fetched her needle and thread.
It didn't take long. The cut had been a clean one, unlike the gash on his head. Soon a line of tiny tight stitches closed the gap. The whole time he sat there watching, not even flinching as the needle dipped again and again into his skin. Anko fetched a blue jar and held it front of his nose, watching as his eyes slowly refocused on it. "This will help prevent scarring. If you're interested, boy, it gets applied overnight. A faint flicker stirred behind his eyes. "Does your head hurt you, boy?" A small nod. "Can you remember what happened?" Another silent nod. Anko went to the kitchen and poured two steaming hot mugs of tea. She placed one in front of the teen and sipped the other. "It's willow bark tea. Drink it, boy; it will help your head."
Another faint flicker of life, his dark brows furrowed downward and he met her eyes directly for the first time. "Where?" he questioned, his voice hoarse from dehydration and lack of use. Anko sat down and took a swallow of her tea before answering. "You're on my farm; about seven miles northeast of town, as the crow flies."
His frown deepened. "How long?"
"Tonight will be the third you've spent here." She smiled at him. "You took one hell of a hit, boy." This time there was no mistaking the flash in his eyes. Anko grinned internally. That's right, get angry. Anger is better than despair.
Suddenly he pushed himself up and out of the chair. He stood there wobbling; hand on the back of the chair to keep from falling. The farmer arched a brow at him. "Where do you think you're going, boy?" He glared at her. "I can't be here… I promised my Uncle… I need to go back."
"Back to the docks?"
"I promised him. He'll come and I won't be there… I have to go back. Now."
She shook her head, a deliberate smirk crossing her lips. "You're not making any sense. You better sit yourself back down before you fall down, boy."
Zuko clenched his teeth. That little smirk, the slightly arrogant tone, calling him "boy"; this woman reminded him of Zhao. His hand tightened of the back of the chair. His eyes, no longer dull and uncaring, flashed with rage. "Shut up, you stupid old hag. You're just a peasant; what do you know about anything?" He managed a few steps toward the exit before dizziness forced him to lean against the table.
"I'm a farmer; I know lots of things." Anko corrected with a hint of humor. "Are you planning to walk all the way back to Yopoko?
Zuko pushed himself erect again, a combination of sheer stubbornness and anger keeping him that way. "I'll crawl if I have to." His voice lowered to a menacing tone. "Don't try to stop me." The woman watched him passively; he could feel her eyes on his back as he tottered past her. One shaky step at a time, he made it to the open doorway. He leaned against the frame, resting, when her slightly gravelly voice reached his ears.
"So… does your Uncle know that he's coming all this way to pick up a corpse?"
Zuko froze.
"Or did you really think that you were honoring your word to him by sitting on that dock, day after day, not taking proper care of yourself? Do you think that's the condition he expects to find you in?"
Zuko whirled around, determined to incinerate the hateful bitch where she sat. But his normally graceful body wouldn't cooperate; the quick movement was too much for his still throbbing head and instead of attacking, he found himself falling. How she managed to catch him, he didn't know. One second she had been sitting in the chair by the table, the next he felt her strong arms underneath him. With the room spinning mercilessly and with limbs suddenly like noodles, Zuko felt the will to fight drain out of him. Once again he was guided to the table and sat in a chair. He leaned forward, catching his throbbing head in his hands.
"Fool." The word seemed oddly sympathetic. "You have a concussion; you can't be jumping around like that." He heard something being pushed across the table. "Try the willow bark tea, it'll help." Gone was the slightly mocking tone that had reminded him so much of Admiral Zhao, instead, the calm offering of tea reminded him of his Uncle.
Prince Zuko felt the last remnants of his anger fade away. After all, what had the woman said that had not been true? The thought of his Uncle seeing him this was made him sick with shame. Still, the idea of somehow missing connections with the General scared him more. "You can't keep me here," he mumbled towards the table.
"I have no intention to. This isn't a jail, boy. You're free to go, as soon as you're healed."
Zuko frowned. The idea of returning to his endless wait on the dock wasn't exactly appealing, but what else could he do?
"Of course… if you want, you could wait for your Uncle here…" she offered slowly.
Zuko looked up at her, feeling the return of his stubborn pride. "I don't need your charity."
To his surprise, she broke out in genuine laughter. "Do I look like a charitable person to you?" She snorted, "Choose to stay and you'll work for your room and board, as soon as you're healed."
"As soon as I'm healed?" he repeated.
"That's right. See, I've invested a fair amount of time in you, boy. Whether you wanted me to or not is inconsequential. The plain truth is, it goes against my better principles to leave a job half finished. Once you are better, if you want to leave, you're free to. I'll even give you a ride back to town," she grinned, "a fair sight better than crawling there. Of course, if you choose to stay you can do that too. We'll make an even exchange of work for room and food. At least until your Uncle gets here, anyways. Once you're healed, the choice will be yours, boy. So I suggest cooperating."
Zuko slammed a fist against the wooden table. "I'm sixteen years old; stop calling me "boy"."
"Sorry, you didn't come with a name tag. What should I call you?"
"My name is… Zuko." The empty pause where his title usually went seemed horribly obvious to the Prince. But technically, he had lost claim to it two years ago. It was courtesy that had kept the Fire Nation soldiers addressing him as "Prince Zuko" for so long. Besides, his identity as the Firelord's son would raise personal, painful questions that he'd rather not answer. And it was none of her business anyhow.
If the farmer had noticed the pause, she gave no indication. "Anko," she introduced herself. "And I have work to get back to. Are you going to be alright by yourself, or do I have to hide all the sharp, pointy objects?"
Zuko glared at her, but the half-smile on her face was more teasing than malevolent. Anko rose from the table. "Drink your tea," she urged. "Then do yourself a favor and go back to bed, hm? Oh and Zuko; don't worry about your Uncle not finding you here. Yopoko is a small village; trust me, by now everyone knows where you are." She gave him a smile and departed, leaving the teen alone with his thoughts.