Sometime later, he opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, staring up at something gray; it took a moment for him to figure out that he was staring at the gray and overcast sky. The surface underneath him was rocking gently.

"What….what happened?" he mumbled. His voice was thick and somewhat slurred in his ears.

"You went in the drink, fire brat. After we told you not to."

Artaq, he identified after a moment. The thought was distant, remote. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, searching with his eyes for the speaker. He caught sight of Artaq, sitting in the prow of the boat; he was still in the umiak, he realized. The realization was a foggy one. Artaq was glowering at him as if he were personally offended.

"Artaq, that's enough." Bato's voice. The older Water Tribe man leaned into his field of vision. He looked concerned, though the distance had not left his blue eyes. Zuko was foggily surprised: Wow. In the Fire Nation, nobody would ever show that much concern…. "Here. Can you sit up?"

Zuko tried, and realized that he was swathed in a mass of blankets. He was shivering uncontrollably. He struggled feebly, then hissed; a sharp pain went through his left arm, shooting into his side.

"My arm…."

"You must have broken it when you were thrown clear." Bato slipped one arm beneath his shoulders, raising him a little. He drew out a leather flask from within his parka and uncapped it. "You need to drink this. This is a Water Tribe medicine; it will warm you up. Being in the water for too long can be dangerous; it can lead to the cold sickness. You need to restore your heat as quickly as possible. If you have some way of heating yourself, firebender, now is the time to do it."

"Too…too cold." His teeth were chattering. The shivers ran through his body; he tried to raise his internal temperature, but couldn't summon the necessary concentration. There was nothing there to work with.

His left arm was useless, and his right hand was stiff and shaking; Bato had to press the flask into his hand and hold it there, practically raising it to his mouth to get him to drink. In the background, Zuko dimly saw Artaq glowering. Sokka was in the prow too, leaning against the side of the boat; he was also swathed in blankets. Zuko tried wearily to figure out why.

The liquid in Bato's flask was hot and steaming; he gulped half of it and then closed his eyes, gasping as the heat spread through him. A second gulp, then a third, and he began to feel a bit alive again. He pushed the flask away weakly, drawing a breath; he started to raise his core temperature as quickly as he dared. The energy drain made him light-headed.

"Sokka pulled you out, at great risk to himself," Bato told him now, gesturing. "Can you heat him as well, firebender?" Zuko looked back at Sokka, where he was huddled in blankets; he was also drinking from a flask, Zuko saw now. Sokka saw him looking and glowered at him. Unlike Zuko, he did not appear to be shivering.

"Don'…don' know how." He wrapped his right arm around himself. "Some firebenders can….I never learned."

"Very well. Then just concentrate on yourself."

Zuko lay back, his eyes closed, allowing the warmth to fill him. His arm was hurting badly, and his ribs felt as if they were cracked.

"Katara…." The image of soothing blue filled his mind: Katara's eyes; her gentle smile, filled with warm concern. "Katara…."

"We're taking you back to Katara," Bato told him quietly. "The hunt is over; the hunters are returning to shore. Sangok is bending us as fast as he can."

"I'm sorry I couldn't heal you." That was Sangok, Zuko opened his eyes a slit to see the other waterbender leaning over him, looking upset. "In the Northern Water Tribe, men only learn combat. They don't learn how to heal. Some men have the gift naturally without training, but not me."

Zuko closed his eyes again. "Katara…."

"Soon."

Something else tugged at his mind, another question he should be asking. What Bato had said earlier…. It struck him, and he tried to straighten, frowning. "The hunt….the whale…. What…"

The faces of all the Water Tribe men fell. Artaq looked flat-out furious, he saw, while Sokka's glare redoubled; Sangok bit his lip, looking unhappy. Only Bato was calm.

"It got away," Artaq said angrily. "Because of you."

Sokka added, slightly less hostile. "Bato cut the line with the hatchet when you went overboard."

Artaq continued furiously, "If you had been Water Tribe, he would never have had to do it—Water Tribe men understand. They know about cold water survival and they know about the hunt, and how important it is. But because you're Fire Nation—"

"Artaq, I said that's enough," Bato reproved sharply. Artaq fell silent, steaming. "Don't worry about the hunt, Zuko," he told him. "Simply participating in it fulfills your requirement, and losing the whale will make no difference."

Losing the whale. Zuko tried, but the fact had no emotional significance. He was just too cold and weak. He lay back, wanting Katara. He wondered what she would say when she saw him again, how she would react. It had only been a morning, but it felt like years. Would she cry, when she saw he had been injured?

Bato was continuing. "The other boats successfully took two whales with only two men injured; neither man was injured severely, and so far no one has died. This has been, by any standard, a very successful whale hunt, and an excellent opening for the season. Perhaps," he added, looking pointedly at Artaq, "having a firebender along has brought us luck."

Two other men had been injured. That's what they call successful? The thought was remote, vague. The image of Katara was much stronger, and much more pleasant; he dimly imagined her embracing him, holding him close. Water Tribe people are all crazy…

"Katara…."

"Soon," Bato promised, his eyes distant. "Soon."

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By the time the beach came in sight, Zuko felt a bit more like a human being. Bato had splinted his arm with one of the harpoons and some strips torn from a blanket; Zuko had heated himself to the point where the water steamed off his clothing, so he was dry again. He was still completely exhausted and he ached all over, and the pain in his arm and side chewed at him. He slumped against the side of the boat, trying to concentrate on Katara, too tired to think of anything else.

They were traveling slowly because the two largest umiaks were towing huge whale carcasses behind them, with the assistance of the fleet waterbenders; one umiak was also towing a kayak, whose occupant had been one of the two injured. Apparently the kayak had rolled, which was quite common and not of significance by itself, but its occupant had had difficulties straightening it and had wrenched his shoulder out of alignment.

A crowd awaited them as they drew up to the beach from which they had left—mostly women and children and the elderly. Zuko huddled in the prow, nursing his arm, while Bato and the others except Sangok jumped out and drew the boat up onto the frozen sand of the beach; Sangok remained in the craft, bending the water to help. A girl of about Aang's age approached Bato shyly as they came up to the beach, and the tall Water Tribe man ruffled her hair.

"Say thank you to my cousin Nessa," Bato told his crew, indicating the young girl. "The umiak is a woman's boat, as the kayak is a man's; it is my cousin's boat that we have been using today."

The other Water Tribe men all murmured appropriate words of thanks to the girl; Zuko was silent. His arm and side were aching, and he was not feeling particularly thankful at the moment. The girl's eyes fell on him and she paled and backed up behind Bato, clearly recognizing that he was not Water Tribe. Zuko fought down the urge to glare at her. His eyes swept the beach as he cradled his splinted arm. Katara, where are you?

He picked Hakoda's umiak out of the line of craft being drawn ashore, dark against the light sand and snow; the Water Chief himself was some distance away, talking to a small knot of people. One man, older with long gray hair in braids, had his arm in a sling much like Zuko's; the other was a somewhat younger heavyset man being supported by two comrades. Zuko saw that his entire lower leg was streaked with blood beneath a clumsy-looking bandage. The sight of the injury made Zuko quickly look away.

A trick of the wind brought Hakoda's words to his ears: "…but these were both avoidable. We were very lucky on this hunt, but we could have been more fortunate still. Marrat, you are an experienced kayaker. I know that you know the correct way to right yourself when you have rolled. Aqallit, your injury was the fault of carelessness in stowing the harpoons. They should have been secured in the prow, and for just this reason." He gestured at the man's leg. "Your injuries are not serious…but they could have been. Use more care in future. The two of you are excellent hunters, and strong warriors; our tribe cannot afford to lose you." The two hunters nodded.

"Yes, Chief," Marrat said, while Aqallit shrugged. "My own fault, Chief. Won't happen again."

"The Northern healers should be here shortly; go with them." Hakoda gestured them off. Zuko watched Aqallit and his comrades hop away with his useless, red-streaked leg dangling, leaving a trail of blood across the frozen sand, and shuddered. That's not considered serious? The fatigue was starting to wear off now, to be replaced by a cold-eyed evaluation of just how much danger he had been in.

He had to be helped out of the boat; he could not climb out with his arm the way it was, and the pain in his ribs restricted his movement. Sokka and Bato helped him out, though Sokka looked resentful; Zuko, seeing that, shot him a glare. Artaq stood by, arms folded, smirking in the background. Zuko took pains to lean on Sokka much more heavily than he needed to. Every little bit helps, he thought. The Water Tribe boy grunted under his weight, holding him up with difficulty. Zuko found he didn't care. I could have died out there. The realization was as chilling as the icy air; slowly it was starting to sink into his bones, opening a place inside him so cold that fire could not warm it.

I could easily have died out there for that stupid custom. Again, he could see the whale breaching before them, towering up, high enough to block the sun; could feel the terrible pain of the icy water surrounding him, the fear, the sense of total and complete helplessness in the face of onrushing doom. His forehead was throbbing where he had banged it on the seat when the whale had started to run, and his neck ached from whiplash. He shivered again at the memory, closing his eyes to try and shake the images, but it didn't help.

He hadn't felt that small and powerless since….longer than he cared to remember. Helpless. He hated that feeling, worse than anything; hated it, and the fear and shame that went with it. Not even his firebending would have helped him out there—that whale had been far too big for any single firebender to take it down. These Water Tribe peasants are all crazy. Hunting whales in those little skin boats of theirs? It's suicide…

"Zuko!"

His head came up at Katara's cry, and he turned to see his betrothed, running lightly toward them over the frozen sand. Just the sight of her warmed him, lifted his spirits immensely. Her bright blue eyes were wide, concern showing openly in her face; she had her water skin of bending water with her, though she hardly needed it in this environment, and was moving to uncork it as she ran. Her concern did his heart good. "Oh, Zuko, are you all right?"

"Is he all right?" Sokka demanded.

Katara ignored Sokka, and it did Zuko's heart good to see that too. She came up to him and clasped him tightly in her arms; his left arm hurt, as did his side, but he didn't care. It felt so good to be in her embrace that he just let her.

She pushed him away, looking him over, and he saw that her eyes were too bright; she took in the splint on his arm and paled. Swiftly she drew some of her bending water from her pouch. "What happened?" she asked, taking his arm in hers; she ran her glowing hand along his arm, searching for the break. He drew in his breath as he felt the gentle warmth of her healing, soothing away the pain, then her hands unwrapping the bandages that had held his arm in place. "Are you all right?"

She was running her hand down his side now, attending to his injured ribs; he raised his arms to allow her. "Katara….I…." He fumbled for the words, not wanting to admit his incompetence to her. "I kind of…."

"He fell out of the boat," Artaq sneered. "Just about what I'd expect from a Fire Nation."

Zuko tensed angrily; he might have stepped forward, but Katara held him, and Bato said, "Artaq, for the last time. I will not tell you again." He looked at Katara. "We captured a whale, but your betrothed was thrown from the boat during the chase. Sokka rescued him."

"The whale got away," Artaq put in. He looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but a glance at Bato and he restrained himself. It didn't matter. The unspoken Because of you came through loud and clear. Somehow the understanding in Katara's eyes made it worse. He'd wanted to make her proud of him.

"At least you're okay," she murmured, lifting her hands from his side and allowing the water to fall away. "That's what's really important."

"I wish you'd been out there with me, Katara," he said without thinking. He drew a breath, then another one. His jaw tightened as he looked at Sangok. "Maybe if we'd had a real waterbender with us, it wouldn't have happened."

The moment the words left his mouth, Zuko felt himself flush. Well, it's true. If Katara had been out there…. he argued with himself. Sangok bit his lip and looked down; Zuko had to admit it was good to see someone else looking flustered and upset. Katara's eyes went to Sangok, and she frowned. "Zuko, that's not a very nice thing to say."

"I don't care." He pushed her away. He could feel himself starting to tremble with reaction. His guts were a wretched stew of anger and fear both. I could have died, he kept thinking. I could have died—that whale could have fallen on us, Sokka might not have gotten to me in time, I could have hit the water wrong and broken my neck instead of my arm… "If—if Sangok hadn't been so incompetent, if he'd been better at steering the boat—"

Sangok looked like he wanted to cry. Katara was staring at him, her brows drawing together in puzzlement; Bato turned toward him. "Young Sangok did an excellent job, Zuko," he said warningly. "He performed better than some much more experienced waterbenders I have hunted with—an accomplishment made even more impressive by the fact that it was his first hunt."

"Yeah," Sokka jumped in, looking at him in disgust. "Don't try and blame Sangok for the fact that you're a klutz."

"How would you even know what a good waterbender looks like anyway?" Artaq sneered.

"I know a bad one when I see one," Zuko snarled. He was shaking. He kept seeing the huge whale rising up out of the water, towering over the tiny craft. "Katara, if you'd seen this guy—"

"I have seen him bend. Sangok was always an entirely competent student," she said, frowning at him.

"Yeah, well, not today he wasn't."

"Hey—Lay off Sangok," Sokka said, scowling fiercely. "He did a great job."

"Not good enough."

"Well, listen to the—" Artaq paused and raised an eyebrow "—spoiled brat telling us Water Tribe people how to run our whale hunts. You sure must know an awful lot, huh?" He was bouncing his harpoon lightly in his hand.

Zuko looked at them all. Sokka was scowling, Artaq had lifted his harpoon and was grinning menacingly, and Bato was frowning in disapproval. They're all against me. His guts were quivering. He could feel his hands starting to heat up, and began, without thinking, to raise them into a firebending stance.

Then Katara came up beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed his hands down. "At least everyone is all right," she said, slipping her arms around his neck. She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then looked into his face intently. "Why don't you go back to Dad's and wait for me? I want to talk to Dad for a bit and see if there's any more healing that needs to be done."

Bato nodded. "Yes. That's probably a good idea. Artaq, Sangok, I see that your young women are here." He gestured to where two young Water Tribe girls were coming across the beach, a short, plump, cheerful-looking girl with her hair in two braids, and a taller, willowy elegant one wearing a white-fur-trimmed hood. "You should go and speak to their families. The flensing and butchering can be carried out without you."

"Yes, Bato," Artaq said sullenly. "Th-thank you, Bato," Sangok stammered. They went to their women, Sangok to the tall one, who smiled and kissed him, and Artaq to the shorter one. It was at a distance, but Zuko could see that Artaq had already launched into a dramatic retelling of their hunt, complete with hand gestures, which his female companion was applauding enthusiastically. He had hoped to be able to impress Katara that way. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and saw the concerned look in her eyes; he clenched his fists and turned away.

It seemed like a very long and cold walk back to Hakoda's house.

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Iroh was sitting at the low ice table playing another round of pai-sho with Master Pakku when Zuko arrived, shivering, from the walk; he ducked through the entryway into the low, dome-shaped front room to see his uncle looking up expectantly. "Nephew!" Iroh greeted with a smile. "How did it go?"

Zuko took off his parka and dropped it, realizing at the same moment that he had left the tackle he had borrowed from Hakoda in the boat. Much good it did me. Who cares. Sokka can bring it back, or Bato. "It's over," he said shortly. "I'm cold. I want some tea."

"There was tea, but you missed it," Pakku told him. Of course, Zuko thought. "You can ask Kanna for some more, but she's been buried in the kitchen all day cooking the whale hunt dinner—I don't know if she'll be in the mood to make any more." He paused, indicating the parka with one raised eyebrow. "Are you going to hang that up, young man? My wife has enough to do without picking up after lazy young men who can't pick up after themselves." Zuko tensed, gritting his teeth, then stopped and forced himself to do as Pakku had said, picking up his borrowed jacket from the floor and hanging it beside the entryway.

Iroh was looking at him closely. "Sit down and rest, young Zuko," the older firebender told him. "I have my burner right here. No need to disturb Kanna. I'll make a pot."

"What?" Pakku interrupted. "And leave our pai-sho game right in the middle of it?"

"It won't take long. I could use a cup of tea myself." Iroh was already setting up his burner and teapot; with a flick of the fingers, he lit it. "Besides," he told Pakku with a grin, "you're winning."

"Ahh, now I see what the real issue is…."

Zuko flung himself down on some cushions while Iroh's pot boiled, rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to simmer down. He felt wrung out and shaky, exhausted and on edge both. Images from the hunt kept flickering in the back of his mind. The click of the pai-sho tiles as Iroh and Pakku went back to playing grated on his nerves. When Iroh gently put a cup of tea in his hands, patting him on the shoulder, he sipped at it gratefully.

He had just about finished the cup when footsteps sounded in the entryway; Sokka came through the door first, carrying two bundles, one over either shoulder. He leaned them up against the wall, took off his own parka, and turned to look at Zuko. "Hey, Zuko. Way to bring Dad's whaling gear back from the boat and not leave it for someone else to carry, man."

"Who cares," Water peasant, Zuko added silently. He glared at Sokka. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"Did you get a whale?" Pakku asked, raising a brow.

"Almost." Sokka said nothing more, but Zuko imagined that his voice was loaded with disgust. Zuko glowered at him. "Katara and Dad will be along in a bit with our shares," he continued, turning to Iroh and Pakku now. "Is there room in the cold box for them?"

"If there isn't, we'll expand it," Pakku said calmly. "You can go and ask Kanna."

"Yeah. Is Gran-Gran making the dinner?"

"She is."

"Great. Tell Dad his spare equipment's in the corner," Sokka added, indicating one of the bundles against the wall; he hoisted the other one to his shoulder and crossed the front room to the hallway to stow his own gear back in his room.

Katara and Hakoda entered a few minutes later, shouldering the hangings aside and talking animatedly with each other. Both of them were carrying large packages wrapped with crudely cut bloodstained hide, held carefully away from them to avoid staining their parkas.

"The bridal shares," Hakoda announced, beaming proudly. "Where is Sokka?"

"In his room, cleaning and caring for his whaling tackle, as a good hunter should," Pakku replied, with a dry glance at Zuko. Zuko dropped his eyes to avoid glaring back at the old man.

"Sokka!"

Sokka emerged from the passageway. "Hey, Dad—all right!" he announced as Hakoda handed him the heavy package.

"Is the butchering over so soon?" Iroh asked, looking up from the board.

"No, it will continue for the rest of the day at least, and possibly through the night and into the next day. Then the drying and preserving will last the rest of the week, if not longer," Hakoda replied. "However, according to custom, marriage portions are cut first. Sokka, you will have to save yours until Suki arrives."

Katara added with a grimace, "I suppose I should probably go back out there to help the other women." She made a face. "Here's your portion, Zuko." She laid the hide-wrapped package on the floor before him with a smile.

It's dripping, Zuko thought in disgust. It reeked of the sea. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he had risked his life for that dripping, stinking, hide-wrapped piece of flesh and couldn't do it. It seemed so completely insignificant.

He looked up at her. Katara was smiling at him, brightly happy. He knew he had to respond, but couldn't think of anything to say. "Thank you," was the best he could manage.

"Yours and Sokka's were cut from the whale Dad's crew took," she said proudly. "The elders say it was the biggest whale taken in the last ten seasons. Of course, three of those, no hunts were held, but still…."

"Coulda been us," Sokka muttered with resentment. Zuko's eyes jerked up to the other youth, but Sokka wasn't even looking at him.

"I know it is somewhat disappointing," Hakoda said, hearing him, "that your boat did not take a whale, Sokka, Zuko. However, this was only your first hunt. There is always next time—"

"There won't be a next time."

Zuko hadn't meant to speak; but at Hakoda's mention of a "next" time, his anger flared. His outburst brought the entire room to a standstill. All the Water Tribe members turned to face him in surprise, and Iroh looked up from his pai-sho board with a frown. "Zuko," Iroh began carefully.

"No, uncle. I did it. I fulfilled their stupid custom. I'm not doing it again. Ever." He could feel himself breathing hard. His hands were starting to heat up. All the fear he had been feeling over the course of the long hunt came crashing down on him and was suddenly transmuted to a sick, burning anger. He had been helpless out there. Far from land, surrounded by the opposite of his element—not even his firebending could have helped him. And they think I'm going to do that again? Not a chance. "I was crazy to go along with that ridiculous hunt the first time. Never again. No matter what."

"Zuko…" Katara breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. The confusion and hurt he saw in her eyes both filled him with shame, and fueled his anger. Hakoda's face had set into an impassive mask of distance, Zuko saw, and Pakku had raised one sardonic eyebrow. Who cares. They don't know. They don't understand— Sokka, on the other hand, looked flat-out furious.

"You take that back," Sokka demanded. "The whale hunt is one of the oldest and most important traditions of the Water Tribe. It is not stupid!"

"A bunch of guys with sticks hunting a whale in a hide boat? Sounds pretty stupid to me," Zuko snarled back. He knew he was being unfair—he had seen himself how much courage and skill were needed for the hunt—but he didn't want to be fair. I could have died, and for what?

"The only reason you think it's stupid is because you were so lousy at it." Sokka put his hand on his machete. "Why don't you face up to it, instead of dumping all over something that you can't understand?"

"Oh, I understand it perfectly well," Zuko spat, climbing to his feet. "I understand that it's exactly the sort of backward, barbaric custom that I would expect from a bunch of ignorant savages living in blocks of ice. If this is the best you Water peasants can come up with, no wonder you needed the Avatar to save you! In the Fire Nation all you peons would be—"

"Zuko!" Iroh's voice was sharper than he had ever heard it. The old firebender looked utterly scandalized.

Zuko ran out of breath and stopped, panting, sick with anger and frustration. The gazes of the others had formed into what felt like a single, unified stare of disapproval. Sokka looked madder than Zuko had ever seen him. Pakku's face showed sardonic amusement; Hakoda's look froze his guts. He didn't dare look at Katara.

"Young man." Hakoda's words held a lethal quietness. He loomed, as tall as Ozai had been, and when Zuko turned to face him, the expression on his face seemed the same. He looks as if he's staring at something beneath contempt. Something not even worth spitting on. Just like Father. Tendrils of smoke were starting to rise from Zuko's hands; he was shaking. "We have taken you into our house. We have shared food and shelter with you, and given you our hospitality. Think carefully—this is how you repay us?"

Zuko was breathing too quickly. He could not answer.

"Well, General Iroh," Pakku said with dry irony. "Your student, you say?"

"Zuko." He had never thought Iroh could be so stern. "You will apologize. Now."

Zuko's gaze swung to Iroh. The old firebender's features were set; he looked as uncompromising as iron. He's—he's ashamed of me, Zuko realized.

Somehow that was enough to clear some of the smoke from Zuko's mind. He had never seen his uncle ashamed of him before. A hollow space had opened up inside him. Master Pakku was watching closely, and Zuko realized it was even worse than that—he'd shamed his uncle in front of one of his friends, no less.

He drew a careful breath, then another one, struggling to get a grip on himself; he was about to apologize when Sokka said, "See what I was telling you, Katara? This just goes to show I was right all along. You can take the brat out of the Fire Nation…."

The words were like fingernails on slate. "Apologize to these filthy, backward Water peasants?" he snarled. "No way!"

"Zuko." Iroh's voice was no longer stone; it was ice, as cold as the ice around them. "Go back to the ship. Wait there for me."

"Yes. I think that would be best." In Katara's father's eyes, Zuko saw a kind of wintry damnation.

"Oh, now, let's not be hasty," Pakku said, his voice thick with irony. "Your nephew is a charming young man, Iroh, and I would love to hear more of his observations of Water Tribe culture. Come on, young man. Do you have anything else to say? Let's hear it." He turned ice-blue eyes on Zuko, who felt their touch like a steel blade. "I'm entirely serious," he said coldly. "Please, continue. As much as you like. In fact, I insist."

Zuko felt danger emanating from the Water master, and suddenly realized that Iroh had gotten Pakku to accept him, and now he had shown the Water master up. He also had the realization that Pakku would be a very bad enemy to have. The smoke rising from his hands was starting to sting his eyes. He was casting about, trapped, for some way out of the situation, when Katara, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke up.

"Ignorant, filthy savages," she said quietly. All attention suddenly focused on her. Her head was lowered, her face, shadowed, thoughtful. When she raised her eyes to Zuko's, the look in them made him want to sink through the floor. "So I g-guess that's….that's what you think of us."

Her voice trembled the slightest bit. The pain of fire, of cold, was nothing compared to the pain Zuko felt now. He was silent.

"Well," Katara continued, trying for a gallows smile. "I g-guess….it's for the best. That I know what you really think of us, anyway. Before—" She broke off, swallowing; tears trembled in her eyes. "And if that's what you think of—of the rest of us, then, uh…." She drew a breath. "Then I guess that's what you think of me too, huh?"

Her eyes searched his face. Zuko could not move. He could not speak. He would have cut off his arm to get her to stop looking at him like that. His blood was pounding in his ears. Katara…please…Katara….

She swallowed again, then set her jaw and nodded. "That's—that's what I thought." She turned her back on him. He watched those slender shoulders square, that spine straighten; she pushed her way through the entrance hangings. He heard her footsteps echoing down the tunnel as she left. She was gone. He'd lost her. Gone.

The silence in her wake was deafening. Everyone was staring at him. Iroh, Pakku, Sokka, Hakoda. He couldn't decipher their expressions. It hurt to breathe. Zuko's head was ringing. His insides felt hollow. Now he moved, too late. His feet moved almost on their own, stepping over the stupid piece of meaningless whale flesh in front of him, carrying him toward the entryway. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into his back. His hand reached out; Zuko barely managed to dampen the fire before the drapes were pushed aside. The passage was long and narrow; he had to stoop. Even before he reached the door, he was calling for her.

"Katara! Katara! Katara, wait, please!"