A small flotilla of crafts surrounded their umiak, heading further and further out into the iron-gray seas as the beach receded into the distance. The sky had started out clear but clouds were rolling in; it looked as if it would be overcast by noon. "Here," Sokka had said, pulling a long oar from the bottom of the boat; he shoved it into Zuko's hands. "Start paddling."

"I thought we had a waterbender with us," Zuko replied, looking with annoyance at Sangok who sat doing nothing in the stern of the boat; he saw that Artaq and Sokka were getting out additional paddles and Bato already had his in the water. "Why do we need to do this?"

Sangok flushed and looked down; Sokka scowled and would have spoken, but Bato beat him to it, looking back over his shoulder. "Most of the other boats do not have waterbenders with them. We are fortunate, particularly because this one was trained by Master Pakku himself. Paddling can be done by anyone. Sangok needs to conserve his strength."

"Why?"

"You'll find out," Sokka said with that same superior grin. Zuko could feel his temper starting to rise.

"How many whale hunts have you been on?" he asked sharply.

"Hey, I've been training for this since I was little," Sokka retorted. "This is what men of the Water Tribe do."

"Maybe that explains why the Water Tribe—" Zuko fell silent, smirking. Sokka's face clouded.

"Why the Water Tribe what?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Zuko let his grin widen.

"No. Spit it out, fire brat. What were you going to say?"

"Bad luck to have someone from the Fire Nation in our boat anyway," Artaq added, shooting a smug look over his shoulder from where he sat in the prow with Bato. "At least he's not marrying into my family."

"Artaq—" Sokka began with rising anger. Sangok cowered in the stern of the craft, looking nervous.

Bato suddenly raised his paddle and slapped the water with it. "Stop," the older Water Tribe man said, turning to look over his shoulder coldly. "Stow your paddles."

Sullenly, the three youths pulled their paddles in, laying them in the bottom of the boat. The other boats in the flotilla passed them by as Bato turned to give all three of them a stern stare.

"I don't care what the three of you are arguing about. It stops. Now." He paused, his blue eyes cold. Zuko swallowed with a sudden chill. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Bato," Sokka and Artaq said at once, meekly. Zuko echoed, "Yes sir."

Bato looked at them all for a moment longer. "Water is the most treacherous and unpredictable of all the elements, and we are on the sea, in pursuit of the great whales. Sokka. Artaq. What is the old salt saying about the whale hunt?"

The two Water Tribe youths repeated meekly, and Sangok joined in, "On the whale hunt, all are brothers." Zuko was silent, having never heard that saying before.

"Correct." He paused again. "Soon we will be in a situation where our lives will depend on each other. If I hear one more word of argument, I will turn the boat around and head back to shore, rather than risk the hunt with a crew who cannot cooperate. This is your marriage hunt. Your young women are depending on you. You are almost men. Act like it."

Bato stared at them all pointedly. Sokka and Artaq both hung their heads, looking shamefaced. For Zuko's part, he was thinking of Katara, and how he had wanted not to disgrace her. And here he was, getting into a fight with her brother. I'm sorry, Katara, he thought.

"Yes, Bato," the three of them chorused. Even though Sangok was not getting yelled at, he also looked repentant.

"Very well." Bato dipped his paddle back into the water. "Now, row." He looked at them all. "We need to catch up with the rest of the flotilla."

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As they continued to stroke, and the beach grew smaller and smaller, then disappeared behind them, the tension lessened. Sokka's hostility drained away to be replaced with an air of anticipation, while Artaq seemed to sink into his own thoughts. Sangok, behind them, looked nervous, and spent a lot of time chewing his lip. Zuko, for his part, was as nervous as Sangok looked, if not more so; he tried to put all thoughts of what might be coming out of his head and just concentrate on working his paddle, digging at the water, dipping it into and out of the dull gray, cold sea. The wind was picking up a bit; salt spray lashed his face. His back and shoulders were starting to ache from the repetitive effort, and his hands were growing sore inside his heavy mittens. It prickled him that Sokka did not appear to be showing any signs of strain.

Their flotilla consisted of about a dozen umiaks like theirs, Zuko saw, generally with crews of around six; there were also a couple long wooden boats that he was told were Northern Water Tribe style. He was surprised to see that there were also many of those single-occupant hide boats—kayaks—sculling out along with the umiaks, usually with older men paddling them.

"That's the old style of whale hunting," Sokka explained when he asked quietly. "In the days when Dad and Bato were kids, everyone hunted that way. It gradually began to change while they were growing up to what we do now, but there are still a lot of older hunters who do it the way they learned it. That's why I had to learn how to make a kayak when I was a kid," he added in an undertone. "Even though it's changing, everyone still learns to do it the old way, too. Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Zuko asked.

"Just in case all the hunters have to go off to war to fight the Fire Nation and there aren't enough left behind to form the hunting waves," Artaq said, looking over his shoulder with open hostility. Zuko tensed angrily, his hands tightening on his paddle; he might have spoken, but Bato looked back at them again.

"Enough," he said firmly. "Back water. See? Hakoda has called for a halt." In the lead umiak far ahead of them, Hakoda had risen and was holding up his hands. "We must be getting close."

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"Sangok," Bato said now, turning to the waterbender; Sangok swallowed nervously, then squared his shoulders. "Can you feel them?"

Sangok took his mitten off and laid his fingertips lightly on the surface of water alongside the craft. He frowned in concentration, then paled. "I…I can't be sure," he said helplessly. "But it feels like…like there's a couple of them, perhaps three or four. Maybe a mile or so north?" he asked, looking up at Bato.

Bato nodded. "Good. We are lucky that you are with us today." He paused, turning back to the figure of Hakoda, who was gesturing. "He's giving the signal to regroup. Back water," he said again. "Then stow your oars. Sangok, get ready. Whales have good ears and might hear us coming if we paddle; the flotilla will bend the rest of the way there."

Sangok seemed to set himself. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

With some splashing and maneuvering, the flotilla reorganized, into roughly the shape of a double crescent, and Zuko saw what was meant by "breaking wave": the umiaks formed two lines, with six vessels in front, six to rear. Theirs was in the rear line, on one side of the horn. The kayaks formed up around them, loosely echoing the crescent shape.

Once everyone was in place, Hakoda, still standing, gestured again. Sangok in the stern rose to a kneeling position, raising his hands and assuming a wide-kneed stance that Zuko could see elevated him enough to see over those in front of him while at the same time stabilizing him against the pitch and roll of the craft. Looking quickly over the rest of the umiaks, Zuko saw perhaps five or six other similar such figures; slightly more with hands raised were in among the kayak men.

He had expected that the waterbenders would create a powerful wave that would carry the crafts along, but instead it was as if the vessels were caught in a gentle current; they simply flowed noiselessly along the ocean's surface as if on the surface of a river, weaving occasionally around floating chunks of ice. A stealthy silence had descended over the fleet, a silence the likes of which Zuko had not experienced before but instantly identified: it was the silence of the hunter, stealing up on his quarry. Sangok looked pale and strained as he went through his bending motions in the back of the boat. Sokka was fiddling with his harpoon, flicking the grommet on and off the toggle absently, and Artaq kept fidgeting on his seat ahead of them. Zuko's guts were crawling and it was hard for him to breathe. He realized he was sweating; the anxiety was so thick that he no longer noticed the cold. Only Bato was calm.

The older Water Tribe man glanced back at Sokka. "Put it down," he said quietly. "Should we get within range of one of the whales, I will cast the harpoon. None of you will throw unless I tell you."

Zuko wondered if Sokka was going to react with anger, but he only nodded. "Yes, Bato," he said, and laid the harpoon down.

Bato turned to where Sangok was still bending, in the stern. "Sangok," he said. The bender looked up at him.

"Yes, Bato?"

"Like the others, this is your first whale hunt ever. When it begins, your responsibility will be to this crew only, do you understand?" he said gently. "There are other, much more experienced waterbenders in the flotilla, and in any case, men of the South Pole are accustomed to hunting without benders to help them. All you need to be concerned about is this boat. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Bato," Sangok murmured in reply. "I understand."

When what begins? Zuko thought, swallowing.

At the front of the flotilla, Hakoda had risen in his craft again and was gesturing. Sangok dropped his arms and laid his fingertips on the surface of the water. Zuko could see it rippled unnaturally around his hand, rising halfway up his wrist then subsiding.

"We're coming up onto them," Bato murmured in an undertone.

"Yes," Sangok agreed. "Hakoda's waterbender just gave the signal."

Artaq leaned forward, putting his hand to his eyes. "I see them!"

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At Artaq's words, everyone in the boat turned to look in the direction he had indicated. Zuko strained his eyes but saw nothing except the choppy gray sea, eddying around a group of barren rock islands, large enough for a man to stand on. The islands were dark grayish black, and glistening with spray. "I don't see anything."

"You're looking right at them," Sokka said. "See?"

"Stupid fire brat," Artaq put in, too low for Bato to hear.

"No, I don't see," Zuko responded angrily. "If you Water Tribe think—"

He broke off abruptly as suddenly, from one of the featureless dull gray islands, a jet of spray fountained up. Even from that distance, he could tell it was as high as a man, wreathing gracefully in the cold air. Suddenly the island rolled over, raising a long fin out of the water; the fin came down, slapping the surface of the ocean almost playfully and sending a gout of water splashing.

"Y—you mean those islands are—"

"Not islands." Sokka leaned forward, gripping the edge of the umiak. "There she blows."

"We're going to hunt those?" As Zuko stared at the huge whales in the water, suddenly the hide boat standing between him and the chill ocean seemed very fragile and the whole expedition seemed like madness. No one answered him. Sokka was grinning, looking nervous and excited all at once; Artaq had the same expression on his face. Sangok looked as if he really wished he were somewhere else. Only Bato was calm.

"All right," Bato said shortly. "Everyone, be ready. Sokka, hand me that harpoon." Sokka did so at once. The first line of ships was spreading out silently across the surface of the water; the arms of the crescent straightened out and then widened to arc around the group of whales in a loose and scattered semicircle, each of the umiaks accompanied by several of the smaller kayaks. Breaking wave, Zuko thought. So slowly and carefully were the waterbenders moving the boats that there was hardly even a ripple or splash. The kayak men were paddling, but with such skill that they made not even a wave. One of the whales spouted again, sending spray jetting into the air as high as a tree.

"Sangok," Bato told the waterbender. "Take us out of the line." The second line was beginning to break up now, Zuko could see, the umiaks to either side of his own craft dropping away; as he turned to look over his side of the boat, he saw that several of the men in the umiak some distance away to their left gestured across the widening space of gray sea between the craft.

Attended by kayaks, the individual boats in the second line spread out into a loose, widely-scattered arc that roughly paralleled the first, albeit at a considerable distance away. "The attack by the breaking wave will panic the pod and put it to flight. We will remain at a distance, in reserve. If a whale comes our way, we will attempt to take it; however, if none does, then we will not risk ourselves in pursuit. Do you all understand?" Bato asked, and everyone nodded. "Get ready. The harpooneers are in position."

As he spoke, Zuko could see the crews of the umiaks in the front line. By his count, there were at least five whales in the pod. Hakoda's umiak and its associated kayaks had targeted the largest of the whales; Zuko watched as Katara's father rose up in the bow of his boat, on one knee. The sun broke through the clouds as he raised his harpoon above his head; other figures in the other umiaks and longboats were doing the same, as were the men in kayaks. All this motion was happening slowly, stealthily, in near-complete silence. Bato had his hands wrapped around his own harpoon, his jaw set grimly. The sun glistened off the tip of Hakoda's spear. Zuko's hands were clutching the side of the boat so hard that they throbbed. It seemed as if the moment stretched itself out agonizingly….

Then, as if at a predetermined signal, the hunters hurled their weapons.

To Zuko's confused eyes, it seemed as if everything began happening at once. The sea became a roiling, boiling mass of chaos. The silence exploded; the men in the boats were shouting orders, backing water frantically with bending and paddles, pulling away from the frothy, turbulent mass. Zuko could see red tinges in the foam that was being churned up by all the activity—blood, he realized. Whale blood. A massive fin reared up out of the water; another one; then a tail soared up, standing to several times the height of a man; it vanished with a powerful thrust beneath the surface, slapping the water and sending up a mighty shockwave. Huge bodies were thrashing in the chop; a back broke through the foam here, a fin there, but the water hid most of it so it was impossible to see clearly. The men in the kayaks were rapidly throwing what looked like barrels or inflated animal hides over the sides of their boats, then sculling away as quickly as they could, their tiny crafts tossing like leaves on the waves being kicked up.

"What's happening?" he demanded from Sokka, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. "What are the kayaks doing? Why are they backing—"

Sokka's grip on the side of the umiak was white-knuckled as he watched the action. Sangok was backing their own boat up a bit to put some more distance between them and the kill zone; they were bobbing in the waves being kicked up. Bato's blue eyes were narrowed and alert. "Floats." Sokka's voice was rough with tension and he never took his eyes off the action. "They were attached to the harpoons. The guys in the kayaks are throwing them overboard now. They have to back away because hurt whales are dangerous, in case you didn't know. Now be quiet and pay attention."

"But—" Zuko's eyes went to the bloody froth on the water, the shouting men in the boats, the thrashing whales. "Is—is that it? Is the hunt over? Are the whales dying? It didn't seem like that big a deal—"

He fell silent as Sokka gave a harsh laugh. "Not even close."

Not even close? But what—

Suddenly there was a loud shout from one of the boats up ahead—it was one of the two Northern Water Tribe longboats, an intricately painted craft with eyes on either side of its hull. As Zuko watched, a huge wave of water rose under the boat, lifting it; the prow of the boat sank, then suddenly rose dramatically, tipping the boat up. As it crashed back down, sending up a gout of white spray, a long bow wave began to rush along the surface of the water, away from the rolling froth, directly toward them

Bato set himself, raising his harpoon. "Everyone, grab onto something and get ready. Sangok—"

"Yes sir!"

"What happened?" Zuko demanded angrily, unable to suppress his fear. Sokka had taken a grip on the side of the boat and was holding onto the line that ran along the top of the umiak; quickly, Zuko did the same. "What's going on—"

"The rope broke," Sokka snapped at him, bracing his feet against the sides of the vessel. The rope? What rope? Zuko wondered, quickly imitating Sokka. The Water Tribe hunter's tan complexion had paled, and for the first time Zuko saw what might have been open fear on Sokka's face—fear mixed with a wild, thrilling excitement.

Artaq looked back over his shoulder, and he saw that same fear and excitement on the other youth's face. "Ready for this? I'll give you fair warning: Hang on tight, fire brat, because if you go in the drink we're not hauling you out."

"Go in the drink? What—" Zuko shifted on his seat to get a better grip, cursing himself, then broke off.

The running wave was heading roughly for the space between them and the umiak to their left. Zuko could see flashes of something tremendously large, long and dark beneath the surface of the water, but the waves and foam distorted and obscured it. It's a whale, he realized. It's so huge… Sangok had risen to his knees again and was frantically making bending gestures, backing water to put some more distance between them and the rising crest of the water; their own boat was beginning to bob violently; and the paddles rattled in the bottom. Zuko could hear the shouted commands of the men in the umiak to their left as they and a couple of kayaks moved to intercept, but they had no bender with them and were getting into position too slowly. They would not make it in time. Bato hauled back as Sangok drew them off to the side; Zuko saw the man's powerful shoulders flex as he raised his harpoon. The iron edge of the harpoon tip shimmered in the sunlight. The wave was skimming closer and closer; Bato held himself poised for an instant, then his arm and shoulder snapped forward in a mighty heave. The harpoon launched from its hand, trailing its rope behind it, to sink into flesh underneath the surface of the wave crest.

The rolling wave stopped suddenly, and their little hide craft rocked in the backwash. The dark, half-obscured shape in the gray waters had vanished. Zuko's heart was pounding in his chest. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"Shut up!" Sokka snapped at him. Bato had lowered himself from the prow and had taken a grip on the side of the boat.

"Hold on," he said grimly.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a hissing sound came to Zuko's ears; he looked and saw that the coils of rope to which the harpoon was attached were beginning to run out, over the prow of the boat, at terrific speed. The rope had been turned around the stempost of the boat to slow it down; it was this that was making the hissing sound.

"See why I told you it was so important that the rope be coiled exactly?" Sokka told him.

"What's going on? What's going to happen?"

"It's diving."

The craft rocked. "Sangok, steady it," Bato ordered sharply; he heard the waterbender in the back swallow audibly.

"Yes, Bato." A couple of gestures and the water around them stilled.

"It's diving as deep as it can go—it looked like a couple of the kayak men had already attached floats to it, so it probably can't go that deep," Sokka was telling him in an undertone; his voice was taut. "After a bit…it'll come back up."

"And then it dies?"

"And then the fun begins." Sokka grinned tightly. Zuko's breath was ragged; his palms were slick with sweat. Numbly, he cursed the Water Tribe and their stupid whale hunts, barely even aware of what he was doing. The small hide craft was rocking again, despite Sangok's best efforts; the waterbender's face was tense with the effort to counteract the forces of the waves.

"Bato, the rope's smoking. Where it turns around the stempost." That was Artaq. His bravado was gone; he sounded tense as well.

"Douse it," Bato said shortly. There was a splash and a slight sizzle.

"Friction," Sokka explained. "The rope's getting too hot."

I know what friction is, Water peasant, Zuko thought, but said nothing. There was a slight jerk, and then the hissing stopped. Zuko looked at Sokka.

"It's not diving anymore?"

"Nope. Wait a minute."

"Sangok, get ready. Where is it?" Bato asked.

"I don't—I—" Sangok gestured, drawing some of the water up so that he could touch it without having to put his hand over the side. "It's—" Then he paled.

"What?"

"It's underneath us—it's coming right at us!"

Zuko froze. His hands were so numb he could hardly hold onto the side of the boat. He had a very vivid image in his mind of the powerful whale versus their tiny hide craft and what would happen when the two of them met. Why didn't I stay on the beach? How did I get myself into this?

"Don't panic," Bato's voice was hard as iron. "Sangok, back us up. Now!"

"Yes Bato!" The craft was bobbing violently in the water kicked up by the onrushing giant. Sangok swallowed again, then lifted his hands. With a mighty heave, he sent the craft shooting backwards, so suddenly that Zuko was thrown to the floor of the boat. He heard Sokka's cry. Spray splashed over the hide sides of the boat to soak his hair and clothing and sting his eyes. Struggling, he pushed himself up again, to see…..

Agni.

Perhaps twenty feet in front of him, the water erupted, geysering upward with a terrifying roar, crashing back down, sprinkling the surface of the ocean and soaking the occupants of the umiak. Out of that water, raising up and up, lifted a huge grey mountain of flesh mottled with white callosities, dark and glistening with sea spray. The wave kicked up by its passage sent the boat surging even further backwards, throwing Zuko to the floor on his back again, staring up at the creature as it towered above their tiny craft. Up, it surged up, and up, and still up, blocking out the sky, standing forty feet or more in the air, throwing its shadow over the occupants of the umiak. It was trailing the cord of their harpoon; he saw it sticking out of the creature's back, looking as small and meaningless as a child's toy. The enormity of the creature was unbelievable; it froze his blood in his veins, froze his muscles, turned his entire body to ice. He had forgotten to breathe. This is crazy. This whole thing is crazy. We can't kill that thing—a couple of guys in hide boats—it would take an iron warship…. Then it was gone, and there was only one thought that stood out clearly in his mind:

We are going to die.

"WHAAAAALE!"

Sokka's wild, jubilant scream rang out, followed by Artaq's full-throated roar: "YEAH!" He could hear Sangok whimpering, but it seemed in a different world. Bato remained motionless in the prow of the boat, holding on, his back to the youths behind him, his face raised to the towering whale. It's as tall as Aang in the Avatar state, Zuko thought numbly. It hung there for a single instant that seemingly stretched out to forever, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to tilt. If it falls on us—

It fell away. The mass of the whale hit the water with a splash, sending up jets on either side of it to rain over the ocean, over the boat, soaking everything. The umiak and all its occupants were shaken violently; one of the paddles whammed Zuko on the nose hard enough to make his eyes sting. He grabbed the side of the boat, hauling himself into a half-crouch, half-kneel, trying to blink the spray from his eyes. Sokka had not been knocked down; he was still as he had been, his eyes wide, grinning in wild delight. He whipped a glance at Zuko, inviting him to share in the enthusiasm. "All right!!" he cheered.

"It's going to run!" Bato shouted from the prow. "Sokka—Throw out the drogue!"

"Right!" Sokka turned, grabbing a mass of hide and cord that Zuko had not paid attention to before; rapidly he began to dump this into the water alongside the boat. Bato turned his attention to the waterbender.

"Sangok—get ready! This is your task—keep the boat stable!"

"Yes, Bato!"

Zuko shot a glance back at him. Sangok was no longer nervous, or scared; the young waterbender's jaw was set, firmly resolute. He braced his knees against the sides of the boat and raised his hands. Zuko was shaking. He had no idea what was happening. Run? What?

"What's going to happen?" Zuko shouted furiously at Sokka.

"Hold on tight!" Sokka said, laughing wildly. Zuko wanted to blast the Water Tribe warrior for that laugh alone. Sokka was in his element, and Zuko had never been farther from his own. Before them, there was a splash—the water was parting, a massive tail lifting up, flukes rising high above the boat, dripping with salt. "You're about to experience a good old Water Tribe sleigh ride!"

The tail came down with a powerful thrust. The hawser snapped taut. The boat jerked into motion so suddenly that it whiplashed his head on his neck; he banged his forehead on the seat in front of him hard enough that white lights burst before his eyes, then was hurled violently into the back of the boat as the craft took off after the racing whale. He smacked into the floor of the umiak just inches from where Sangok knelt. One of the paddles was digging agonizingly into his back. The boat was banging and lurching all over the place, jolting from side to side; it was like being inside a barrel as it was rolled downhill. Zuko was thrown first to one side, then the other as the umiak rattled and shook.

He blinked, trying desperately to focus. From his perspective Sangok loomed, towering high above him, silhouetted against the cloudy sky. The waterbender spared him not so much as a glance. His expression was firm, his eyes fixed straight ahead. As Zuko rolled his head from side to side, trying to clear his head, he saw Sangok hold out his hands, palms parallel with the surface of the water; he braced his shoulders, and with a strong movement, pushed down.

Zuko felt the umiak slant as the fragile hide shell responded to Sangok's movement; the prow of the boat was rising up out of the water as the whole craft tipped towards its back end. He's going to throw us out the back…! There was a tremendous rattling as all manner of stuff went sliding down the tilted floor of the boat toward its stern: spare paddles, buckets, water casks, and other odds and ends; Zuko felt himself sliding too and hung on for dear life. Not the harpoons, not the harpoons… The umiak was no longer bouncing; instead it was shaking and vibrating as if it were on the verge of tearing itself apart, slewing from side to side across the water's surface in sweeping powerful arcs that tipped the craft first one way, then the other. Zuko saw Sangok, his shoulders tight with effort, staring determinedly over the prow as he described the boat's curves with his hands. His hands were trembling with strain, and his blue eyes were narrowed to slits as he traced the air and the umiak responded. Beyond him, Zuko could barely make out a roostertail of spray being kicked up by the speed of their travel, splashing over the gray ocean.

Trembling, Zuko jammed his feet against either side of the boat. His hands gripped the near side in a clawlike grip as he hauled himself up. The wind struck him in the face like a blow, snatching his breath, lacerating his cheeks and stinging his eyes. He tried to focus. He could see the fuzzy shape of Bato kneeling in the prow of the boat, doing something with the line that led from their boat to the harpoon in the whale; Sokka and Artaq crouched on either side of him, both holding paddles raised to dig into the water should it be necessary. All their backs were to him. Over the wind howling in his ears, he heard Sokka's wild war whoop; then an answering cry of exhilaration rang out from Artaq. Bato began to sing, a deep, droning chant that carried over the wind and surged like the waves. After a moment, the lighter, higher voices of the two younger warriors picked it up.

"Come on, join in!" Sangok called to him excitedly, before lifting his voice to join the chant himself. Around Zuko, the voices of the Water Tribe men rose above the racket in braided, powerful harmony, singing words that he could not distinguish through the screaming wind. Zuko set his teeth, holding onto the boat for all he was worth. His hands were cold and frozen; his muscles ached, and his body felt dangerously weak. Numbly he wondered again why he had ever come out here. Madness. It's madness. Worse than that, it's suicide…

I'm slipping. Agni, I'm slipping… Desperately he tried to tighten his grip, but his fingers were stiff and would not obey him. He tried to jam his knees harder against the sides of the racing craft, but could find no purchase. Every vibration of the boat caused his grip to loosen. I can't hold on. The thought was a cold certainty.

There was a thunderous splash ahead of them, and more spray rained heavily over the boat's occupants as the whale breached, its huge body cresting the waves and rising out of the water. The craft's speed slackened for a fraction of an instant, then the line snapped taut again and the umiak was yanked sharply ahead. Zuko's hands came off the edges of the boat entirely, leaving him grasping at air. He snatched uselessly at the boat, but could not get hold of anything. His hands were as stiff as blocks of wood. He swayed, trying to keep his balance as Sangok threw the boat into a long, sweeping curve, then another one, still singing; first the far, then the near side of the boat came up, shaking him loose and tipping him toward the water. His knees were sliding. He tried to call for help, but the wind snatched his breath from him.

I can't hold on. I can't hold on. I can't—

With another lurch, Zuko was thrown free. He crashed down into the ice-cold water, flat on his face, with a splash.

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In that first moment, Zuko's life was saved by the fact that he was literally too shocked to scream.

It was the cold. He hadn't been prepared for it, and it hit him at once, all over his body, rising up to embrace him, surrounding him. He had heard some firebenders say that water was a healing, gentle, soothing element. They were wrong. He had never known such pain could exist in his entire life. He had been intimately acquainted with the touch of fire, and this was a thousand times worse; the cold felt like it was tearing his flesh from his bones with bright, steel blades.

He tried to scream, but his muscles had locked up instantly from the shock; his body would not obey him. Later, he would realize that if he had been able to scream, he would have sucked down a lungful of water and drowned; but at that moment, all he registered was that he could not move, and that thought increased his panic. He tried to thrash, to struggle, to make for the surface, but to no avail; he was sinking down into the cold dark depths, receding further away from the brightness of the air that he could see above him. I'm going to die. It was a clear realization, very cold; it stood out in his mind in three dimensions. This was not a situation compatible with life. His vision was starting to dim. I'm going to die. Right here…right now… His struggles were growing weaker. He tried to keep fighting, but his strength was rapidly ebbing.

Suddenly something caught his wrist in an iron grip, and what felt like a steel bar closed across his chest, trapping him in a vise-like hold. A powerful surge from beneath carried him toward the surface, but he could tell that he would not make it in time. His sight was fading. His strength was gone. His chest was crying for air. Katara…Katara, I'm sorry….

Darkness.