Heh, guess this is turning out to be a drabble-series after all... (absolutely no connection to the previous drabble, mind you) Check my profile for link to the companion fanart of this fic!

Disclaimer: read - FANGIRL + FANFICTION NO PROFIT FOR ME. (sob!)

Heat

"I see you've learned some new tricks," he snarled at her defiantly.

"I see you've gotten dumber," she shot back, "I'd have thought you'd learned not to attack me at night since the last time."

Zuko knew he should probably shut up, that this was not the time to engage in witty, sarcastic banter with his opponent.

Especially when said opponent had him pinioned to the ground, thick manacles of ice encasing his wrists and ankles, her own weight pinning his torso, her muscular thighs digging into his sides.

There was also the small, insignificant matter of the sharp and pointy ice-shard dagger the peasant had at his throat, which she would most likely drive through his trachea if he so much as twitched, if only through incompetence. 'Stupid Water Tribe peasant. Stupid pointy ice-dagger.'

"I wasn't attacking you," Zuko growled, not because he was trying to be especially threatening, but because keeping his voice low would keep the girl from getting over-excited.

"Oh really?" she drawled sarcastically, "So, you jumping out from behind a tree and swinging your swords at my head was the Fire Nation way of saying 'Good evening'?"

"I didn't even know it was you," Zuko replied disgustedly, immediately regretting the admission. It was not his fault he had been so jumpy; anyone with a sociopathic younger sister bent on fratricide on their on their heels would rightly be so paranoid, suddenly running headlong into someone on a moonlit night in a trackless forest. 'Stupid Azula. Stupid moon.'

"Are you saying you're not just rude, but incompetent, also?"

Zuko grit his teeth, wishing she would just shut up and stop rubbing it in. How was he supposed to remember that red-hot metal, when flash-frozen, tends to warp like a frenzied fish? He had been lucky his wrists hadn't been broken when his swords flew from his hands. "Look, I'm not after the Avatar," he bit out, deciding he had nothing to lose at this point, "Matter of fact, I'm the one being chased here."

Technically, since no one had burst in on their little bending spat leading up to his current ridiculous predicament, Azula must have lost his trail. Trading pursuit for capture (and possible impalement) could hardy be called improving one's situation, however.

She blinked, an absurd look of confusion crossing her face. "Why should I believe you?" she demanded.

Zuko rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to whack back of his head against the hard ground in frustration. "Do I have to spell it out for you? How many times have I said, 'Give me the Avatar or else' since I've run into you?"

"Ummm…" He could almost hear the wheels grinding in her head. "None," she realized in shock.

He gave her a Look.

"That doesn't mean anything, though," she snapped, giving him a basilisk glare and a little jab with her ice-dagger.

"Will you quit doing that!" Zuko hissed, not liking the tickling sensation of a trickle of blood sliding down the side of his neck in the least.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

A jet of blue flame roared past Katara's ear - she only avoided it by throwing herself flat on Zuko.

"That good enough for you?" Zuko would have said, but the mouthful of tunic prevented him from getting the words out.

Katara dissolved Zuko's manacles and rolled off to one side, on her feet in an instant.

"My, my, my, Zuzu," Azula sneered, flanked by her two companions, "Are you sure you have the leisure for playtime?"

"Shut up!" the offended Fire Nation prince and (equally offended) Water Tribe peasant retorted in stereo, unleashing a intriguingly coordinated attack of flame, water, and steam…

FIN...?

Okay, soI lied. This isn't a drabble. It's the half-assed starting point of an obligatory Zutara epic that I'm too lazy to work on right now. Blarh.