Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar or anything associated with it except my fanfiction

Hi. I have this feeling that if this site is still up in ten years that I'd still not finish a single story that is currently a work in progress.

By the way, dark AU idea. What if everything after the Swamp was an illusion? And everyone who entered the swamp was simply trapped in there, living in hallucinations...

Dark thoughts. But I give you my word that that's actually not what happens here. These characters and storylines are real and alive. Although whether that's a good thing or not to have a real AU ripoff is up to you.

Previously...

The burned prince's contemplative journey has taken a turn for the worse as a decision to restock on water goes awry. Barely escaping with his sanity, the prince has found his way into an even greater trap than the mental tribulations of The Swamp...

Zuko was a goner.

His lips were caked with dried blood, cracked and blistered and peeling. The revolting bottle of swamp water he had the prudence to fill and carry did little to stave off the leeching sun. The empty skin crashed into his thighs with each painful, desperate step, too cumbersome to remove yet too cumbersome to move on with. Zuko had hoped that perhaps he would travel in a direction that would lead him to some sort of oasis or civilization where he could rejuvenate or at least be given some semblance of hope, but days elapsed and he was still traversing the same patch of scorching sand. He sighed, wishing he had been offered a proper education on survival skills. AFter all, it did not befit even the most prestigious of beings to overlook skills of self-preservation during emergencies, especially when it came to a period of war that lasted over a century and showed no signs of stopping.

If only he could find the Avatar...

The only indication that his legs folded beneath himself was the taste of sand burning into his parched tongue. Unable to let out even a guttural cry, he lay facedown, too exhausted to roll himself over, too delirious to think, too disoriented to feel. All he registered was the pain and blackness overcoming his senses.


"Cho'lbosh!"

The sand-sail, no longer propelled by Reti, slid to a stop as Cho'lbosh silently cursed. As compelling a storyteller as Reti was, they all lived in a place as merciless as it was barren, and sometimes he would get too carried away with his imagination.

"I told you, now is not the time to daydream about your next fireside tale! We've been out all day and we need to return to our tribe before we lose them! They don't exactly stay put like trees, you know!"

"This is no daydream." Cho'lbosh's scowl faded as he saw his companion's grim countenance. Reti pointed to a small, nondescript heap of brown and black in the distance - unmoving, insignificant.

That is, if the desert was not entirely yellow.

"Dropped supplies? An animal, maybe?" Cho'lbosh said wearily. Only the hardiest and fiercest survived the wilderness, so such an anomalous - was alarming. Reti, however, remained unconvinced.

"I really think we should check that. Don't ask me to give you any logic, but... I have a gut feeling. A serious one. Not like when the sun beats down on us and makes us hard of thought. It's like... something there... is worth checking out."

"Are you insane? You could get both of us killed-" no sooner did Cho'lbosh say this than having the rudder ripped from his protesting hands. He viciously retaliated, shoving Reti aside. "I swear on Kurma, if you send us to there -"

"You get half my rations at dinner for a week."

Cho'lbosh blinked. "Same thing for lunch, and we got a deal."

Reti returned the rudder, and revived the sand vortex. Cho'lbosh grudgingly steered their sail towards the heap, contemplating what could await them.


The heap did not stir even as sand blanketed the prone form.

It was clearly a man - likely Fire Nation. The garb was distinct, with discrete hues of red patterning the robes the person wore. His skin was paler than the skies, although it was clearly tanning under the ferocious glare of the sun. As Reti drew closer, with Cho'lbosh right on his heels, they could see the form was a boy - a teenager about their age - and was not breathing. Upon closer inspection, the boy showed clear signs of dehydration - cracked lips, rouge skin, and a complete lack of even tear crust to bear witness to the boy's pitiable state.

After sharing a glance with Reti, Cho'lbosh went to work, pulling out the last skin of water he possessed, one he planned on keeping in reserve for the possibility of a more personal, pressing emergency. While he opened the skin, Reti flipped the boy around so as to feed him more easily. A sharp intake of breath issued from Cho'lbosh.

"His left eye..."

Despite all the horrors Cho'lbosh had witnessed in the desert - and they were too many to count - nothing quite matched the scar he saw on the boy's face. A horrible burn, obviously aged for years, marred an entire half of the boy's face, and the patterns of the burn told Cho'lbosh that they were no mere accident, and that this was no mere boy.

"Is that..."

"The banished prince? I've heard the stories, but... I didn't know if they were real," murmured Cho'lbosh.

"Well, real or not, here is a very dehydrated man, and if there is one sacred rule throughout this land, it is that no one dies for want of water." With this, he took his water skin, proffered it up to the man's lips, and slowly tilted it forward.

A miniscule drop of water landed on the man's lips. Waiting for a reaction - besides the light breathing, there was none - Reti repeated the process, waiting for an extended period of time, then offering a lone additional drop to the man.

Eventually, the man came to, and Reti rewarded him with a single drop. The man slowly parted his chapped lips, and was rewarded with another drop of water. Almost instantly after consuming the drop, the man greedily attempted to sit up and drink the water directly, blindly groping for the the lip of the bottle with his mouth.

"No!" Cho'lbosh hissed softly, well knowing that a loud voice would not help this life-or-death situation. "You are in no condition to drink the water. If you do, you will die. You have been dehydrated for too long, and your body needs to reaccustom itself to water. Just try to bear the thirst, and take what we offer you." He answered for Reti, who was far too occupied with the rationing of the water for the Fire Nation man.

It was a long, painstaking process to carefully measure out drops of liquid for the man to swallow. But gradually, the man graduated from single, sporadic drops, to more frequent drops, and then multiple drops in one sitting. Eventually, Reti was able to give the man small trickles at a time, which the man greedily lapped up, eyes closed, clearly wanting more.

Cho'lbosh looked at the sun and cursed. "We can't spend any more time here."

Reti stared with worry. "How is his condition?"

"Better, but still fragile. We'll have to handle him with care." Cho'lbosh redirected his attention to the prince. "Okay, listen here. Don't respond, just listen. We're going to move you onto our sandboat. It might be painful and exhausting, and we will be moving away from here, but on the boat you will get a lot more water. We're just warning you so that you can prepare yourself mentally."

Together, he and Reti heaved the man onto their boat. Without any words, Cho'lbosh returned to his position as the fuel of the boat while Reti slowly nursed the man back to health.


"What took you so long?" demanded Reti's mother as they finally coasted to a stop near their tribe. Although it had been difficult to trace their path, their tribe's tracks were clear and easy to decipher, and Reti thanked - above for offering them a calm day.

His mother, however, was anything but calm - eyes etched with anger, she was a storm he did not want to cross.

"We brought someone along with us." Wrong choice of words. He could see the sparks of retribution threatening to catch on fire. "They were very badly dehydrated and on the verge of death. They don't look like sandbenders - their skin is extremely pale, and also they don't wear desert garb. It was clear there was no scuffle - I think they were just a traveler who made a wrong turn with inadequate supplies. You know how those kind go." His mother softened. She had a compassionate streak that surpassed her high expectations of her son, and any efforts to help anyone were met with approval, no matter how reluctant, from her.

"Very well."

Reti allowed himself an internal sigh of relief before he was viciously yanked by the ear. "Do you realize just how worried I was about you? I tried to make the others wait as long as possible, but-"

Even through the white stars, Reti snorted. "As if. It wasn't even like I was by myself! Cho'l was with me!"

The pinch on his ear subsided, and Reti could almost feel the pain. "I suppose. Then that would make things even worse had you not found your way back. Out here, we cannot afford to leave behind a single person - let alone two."

"If, for some reason, two minds bent on survival could not scheme of a way to return." Reti countered. "Besides, the person we came back with could be a huge boon to us."

"How so?"

Reti took a deep breath. "I think that's the banished prince."

His mother's face darkened, and she took two steps back. "You mean -"

He nodded. "He has the scar. Too big to be falsely replicated - the makeup would have been completely disfigured by the sun at this point. His entire left face is gruesomely disfigured, and is far too dark to be a sunburn or a sunscar. His dress screams Fire Nation, and it would make sense that he would be trespassing through the Earth Kingdom... although based on the last reports we received from the Earth village, he was supposed to be with the Avatar and someone from the Poles."

Her face contorted in anger. "You-"

"It would be a huge boon to the tribe," Reti hastily interjected. "He's worth a mighty price to the Fire Nation - so much that our tribe could survive for several years off what he could bring in. Maybe we could sell him off to the beetle merchants."

He felt a sharp sting as his mother slapped him. "You brought him into our tribe? Do you realize the danger he could bring? Don't you see the danger of hosting such a - a - a dangerous person in our midst? Even if we weren't hounded down by our rivals or burned to the ground by the banished prince, what is to say he will even be accepted by the beetle men, if not outright stolen?"

He frowned. "Mother, you fret too much."

"Tell that to your father." The word hit him like the venom of a sand viper, and even as he recoiled, he could see the retribution it wrought on his mother. His father had been the opposite of his mother - a daredevil who heeded no warnings, with the exception of his wife's. One time when he ventured out on a hunt, Reti's mother frantically begged that he bring a spare weapon along, having had a premonition that something bad would happen. His father only laughed and kissed his mother goodbye, telling her not to worry so much about him as a capable sandbender and spearman.

Despite his mother's best efforts, the lack of a male role model took its toll on Reti.

Desert life was not an easy one, and he had to learn quickly from his peers the fundamentals of survival as he was thrust into a position of familial authority even as the connections his mother had suddenly dried up.

"This is different, mother. This person is a pariah of the Fire Nation and is a supposed menace. However, I made sure to securely ensnare him in an impossible position so that even when he has recovered from severe dehydration, he will be unable to escape or destroy his bonds."

"And how exactly did you accomplish this?"

Reti grinned, proud of this one stroke of innovation that he, and no one else, conjured. "Well. Let's just say he'll be too scared to even move an inch..."


Zuko groaned.

The sun seemed to have abated, as did the dryness in his throat and the burden of his belongings. In fact, being relieved of these very tangible and current problems almost lead Zuko to believe that he had came to in the Spirit World, and that all of his sorrows were eased.

The throbbing of his head and the undiminished taste of sand in his mouth told him otherwise.

Groggily, he lifted his head up and slowly brought his hands up to stretch. An unexpected resistance met him halfway through, however, and he begrudgingly opened his eyes to meet the obstruction. Seeing nothing but blurred outlines, he rapidly blinked his eyes and squinted, certain enough that the dehydration had not yet claimed what remained of his eyesight. Once he had made the world transition from insubstantial wisp to focused objects, he finally was able to take a closer look at his surroundings.

He froze.

His eyes widened.

Suddenly, his headache seemed to not hurt as much, as Zuko dawned upon the realization that despite being saved from the inevitable demise of heat, he had literally found himself out of the frying pan and into a whole new fire.

Gingerly, he maneuvered his way into a sitting position, careful not to touch the contents of the room, and managed to twist his hands so that they were in front of himself. Catching a look at his restraints, he frowned.

Given the sturdy and resistant nature of the manacles, he had expected gleaming metal to be clamped around his wrists. Instead, it appeared his cuffs were made from the sand itself, pressured to become a conglomerate whole that proved surprisingly strong and unyielding when Zuko strained against them. Seeing that there was no room for a key or anything to undo the cuffs, Zuko knew that this was the work of benders. But where was this rock found in the vast expanse of sand? Zuko was brimming with questions, but having his path to the exit of the tent obstructed, he only stared despondently at the closed slit, realizing that he would have to wait for his captors before any move could be made.

As though answering his thoughts, the flap was suddenly lifted, and a wary nose poked its way into the room. "I swear I heard some rustling in -" He saw Zuko sitting up. "You're... awake?"

Zuko nodded.

"Are you the Fire Nation's banished prince?"

Zuko nodded.

"Are you blindly nodding at everything I say?"

Zuko faked a nod, then vigorously shook his head side to side. The jailor sighed loudly, then glanced appreciatively around the room.

"You're a firebender, as they say... so we took preventive measures to ensure escape wouldn't happen. Good thing we did it too - I don't think I've seen anyone recover this quickly from severe dehydration. Anyways, it looks like the fused explosives did their job well, didn't it?" Indeed, the floor was littered with a plethora of different explosives, all of which were volatile and prone to excessive heat - including Zuko's flames - and there was no path to take without disturbing at least ten explosives with each step. Zuko was essentially trapped in a place where the only escape was in a fiery death. And being the person he was, he could not bear to kill what was potentially hundreds if he was presented with the option of not performing such a gruesome act. And even if he happened to not care for others, then, well, there was always his own wellbeing to consider assuming he was as bad as Azula.

"I won't lie, I half thought you would blow all of us up, but I guess we're not that significant to you, are we?"

Zuko did not respond.

"Well, you woke up just in time for dinner. I suppose I must take you out to eat. And I'll just warn you of one thing. If you manage to fight us off and leave, congratulations. What from there? Continue traveling in the same manner as you have from before, except this time with all your supplies confiscated and with no water to last you through even one day? Just something to consider."

Zuko only just became aware of the emptiness of his stomach. Despite having been dehydrated, he immediately salivated at the thought of food - even bugs from the horrific swamp he had escaped would have been perfectly delectable - so he hastily stood up to be escorted to something that would fill his stomach.

However, he had overestimated the strength it took to stand up, and he almost fell forward onto a particularly threatening orb of glowing gunpowder when the jailor - a boy around his age with a long nose and narrow eyes - steadied Zuko's flailing body with one hand. "Might not have recovered as completely or as quickly as I first thought, huh? Let me move everything out of the way so that we don't create a sinkhole where we're standing, and then I'll escort you. Oh, and by the way? That pain you felt in your skin when you stood up is sunburn. We're not sure how long you were lying on the ground, but the sun here's very fierce. In fact, we wear lots and lots of protective garment for the conditions here, even though temperatures can be downright fatal."

Zuko finally spoke. "And what do you plan on doing with me?"

The boy took a hard look at Zuko. "Selling you to the Fire Nation. Maybe we'll be able to survive a couple more years with what we'd get. By the way, call me Cho'l." Zuko couldn't help but sense a mild air of irritation from Cho'l, even as the cuffs were cordially removed and he was patiently walked to the campfire.

As long as he was out of that Swamp and this was not another mirage.


Zuko had heard stories of all the eccentricities of the Spirit World from his late uncle. None of it compared to the exhibition displayed for him.

In fact, at first glance Zuko earnestly questioned whether he was looking at humans or creatures from a different world, when one of them took off their goggles and mask - made of dusty glass and tattered fabric scraps - and sneered at Zuko. "The Prince is awake, huh?" Despite Zuko's temptations to squirm, he held his ground and kept his expression unmoved.

"Yes." Cho'l lightly pushed Zuko forward to accept a meal. Hesitantly, Zuko took a bowl of some strange substance, found a place to sit down in sight of his jailor, and inhaled his stew. It was surprisingly palatable - if not Zuko's favorite food, then one he wouldn't mind eating once every while - or every day in his present captivity. With all his senses cleared and with his cognition fully returned, he deemed it wise to not inquire as to the ingredients of the meal so as to not ruin his appetite.

In between bites of the food, Zuko took surreptitious scans of the population gathered in the vicinity. With very slight variations in patch size and color, the outfits of the sandpeople - for that was what they seemed to be - were identical. From the many layers of caps around the top of their heads, to the masks hanging on their necks, ready to be donned at any moment, to the goggles worn on the face or hung on one side of the sashes that held their clothes together, combined to form an alien image that deeply struck Zuko.

"Is the sun that brutal here?"

He was met with silence until Cho'l offered an answer. "One of the biggest threats here is skin cancer. Even with a layer of clothing that fully covers your body. So we put on more to stave off the risk as best as possible. Happens a lot less. But still happens. So we're vigilant about it."

"How many people are there? Is this everyone that lives out here? That's a dumb question. What I mean is - are there others, and how do you communicated with each other?"

"Are you also going to ask what's in the food?" a woman interrupted. Taking in the irate faces of the sandpeople, Zuko took that as his cue to finish his meal in compliant silence.

When he was done, Cho'l immediately clasped his arms together, and a copious amount of sand flew up. Flinching back in surprise, Zuko looked on in awe as the sand coalesced around his hands and formed the handcuffs he wore when he had woke up.

"How -"

"Sandbending." Despite answering the question, Cho'l's voice contained a bite to it that convinced Zuko to stay silent, and he was guided away from the rest of the people.

Once they were out of earshot of the others, Cho'l finally relinquished his control. "We don't really talk to outsiders. I'm trying to be polite out of hospitality obligations, but you should NOT pry into other's business. Sand bending is forgivable. It was a necessity to show it to you outright to restrain you. Asking a hundred other private questions is NOT okay. Understood?"

Bewildered at the intensity of the onslaught, Zuko quickly nodded before the glare Cho'l gave him subsided. "Okay. So unfortunately we do not have a place for you to stay. We weren't planning on a vagabond, so you get the explosives tent." Cho'l closed his eyes. "This payout better be good, Reti. I'm going to get the wasps' buzz of a lifetime" he muttered. Zuko wondered if Reti was a leader or a friend or someone else entirely who Cho'l was referring to, but he knew better than to ask aloud.


For the most part, Zuko was free to move about. After all, the camp itself was as much a prison as it was an oasis - a source of food, hydration, people, and survival.

He still was unsure of how he ended up with these people, but being in the presence of real people was far more palatable to Zuko than swamp water hallucination. Even if the food was questionable, at least its filling capabilities were not. Even if he was a prisoner, he was treated far better than if he was left under Azula's ward. In fact, if looming deadlines did not press upon him, Zuko would have enjoyed the experience completely, as beyond the slight trepidation at being handed to Azula on a silver platter, the lifestyle was surprisingly simple and nice. Of course, Zuko could have gone without being toted around on strange wind sleds that were powered by sand vortexes (a feat he would have otherwise attributed exclusively to Avatar Aang), but even those were a far cry from the bustle of the Fire Nation capital. Also, no one tried persecuting him or burning his face.

The reality was that no one interacted with him in the first place. Whenever he wandered from his temporary quarters, the sandpeople - if they had their faces uncovered - would simply refuse to meet Zuko's eye. Even exchanges that were more easily conducted with verbal communication were met with an obstinate silence that perplexed Zuko. If nothing else, a quick phrase of apology or clarification wouldn't go amiss, would it? Even though he was a complete stranger and outsider to their ways of life, Zuko would have assumed that the tribespeople would have warmed up to him.

But the sandpeople remained as distant and separate as the individual particles they walked upon and controlled. So every day, he would ride alongside the tightlipped Cho'l and his friend, Reti, as the tribe traversed the scorched terrain with what Zuko assumed was an innate sense of direction. The tribespeople would frequently consort what appeared to be compasses, yet, even though Zuko's own supplies had been confiscated and prepared for resale, he could tell by the orientation of the stars that the Compass North did not point in the correct direction, and even fluctuated heavily when moving in a straight line.

Zuko found things like these very curious, and was sorely tempted to blurt out questions like a passionate Sokka. Usually, however, he kept his mouth shut, knowing that any actual response he received would more likely be dismissal than assistance.

Even so, he could not help himself to certain questions that gnawed at his brain like his own teeth on a particular meal. "What's this?" he wondered aloud, before becoming aware of his outburst and sinking into his concoction and avoiding the inevitable scrutiny of his captors. Determinedly, he concentrated on his chewing, hoping to drown his mind with thoughts other than self-consciousness.

"Buzzard wasp. It's not palace pudding, but it's got sustenance and nutrition. Even if it's a bit crunchy and tough to whittle at." A woman's voice pierced through Zuko's bubble, and he quickly glanced up to see a slight woman tending to the communal cooking pot, a stern look on her face as she stirred the remnants of dinner.

"Oh." Zuko did not know how to respond to the answer, so blunt and unexpected it was. "Thank you," he stammered. The woman took a hard look at Zuko. A curt nod, and then once more, any acknowledgement of Zuko fled into the shell of indifference that Zuko could not penetrate.

He stared at his empty bowl and cleaned up. The wooden bowl was all they allowed him, alongside a few wooden utensils (no knife - although it would have hardly been effective at anything other than pained sawing at a piece of meat). Nodding to the woman, Zuko said another word of thanks, to which the woman showed no response. Zuko scurried to his tent, laying on the sand and staring into the corner at the ceiling.

The words were at least something.


The people warmed to him. It happened slightly faster than Zuko expected, given the stubborn front they barricaded themselves in for the first several days that Zuko stayed with them. But it was difficult for them to ignore the firebender for much longer, especially when he began helping out with small chores around the camp.

It all started when one man was trying to start a fire on an especially drafty day. No matter how much effort the man put in - and despite the combined efforts of bystanders to assist in the fire-starting - not even a flicker was produced from the multitudes of spark strikes that sprang from the metal tools. Grumbling rippled throughout the crowd at the thought of a cold meal - distasteful even in the sweltering heat - and the tools and kindling were reluctantly set to the side when Zuko stumbled upon the scene.

Pushing through the initially indignant crowd, he reached the kindling, breathed on it, and formed a hearty fire to roast dinner on. Nodding to the sandpeople, he quietly said, "You can cook now."

Even from the people who did not say thanks, he received several nods and signs of recognition of his existence and contribution. The piping hot food certainly helped.


One day, Reti cautiously approached Zuko, eyeing his allies warily at his clansmen who pretended to take no heed of this proceeding. "If you don't mind... what exactly were you doing in this desert?"

For a slight moment, Zuko considered not divulging anything, or, better yet, telling a tall tale to dissuade the sandpeople from asking questions just to stop the intercations that always involved some sort of dirty look in his direction. But he figured that, as a captive with nothing better to do, a confession of his past would likely assuage his boredom and discomfort in his current situation.

Zuko began to recount everything about the jungle, then, realizing that the truth was too fantastic to be taken for granted, proceeded to backtrack, episode by tedious episode, of everything that happened to him, until he found himself recounting his story from the moment his mother disappeared.

His mother had always protected him from the wrath of his father. He was far from the representation of perfection, and his sister perpetually remained scores of forms and grades above him as she became the youngest wielder of blue fire while he still struggled with the third set of forms. His mother did his best to occupy him with things that brought him joy - from feeding the turtle ducks in the palace pond to arguing with Ozai for the necessity of playing with others - namely, Azula's friends, since Ozai did not deem Zuko adequate enough to venture him to make social connections. Even though Zuko likely would not have set out to make friends by himself if left to his own devices, Ozai's abrupt rejection of Zuko's ability rankled him deeply. And even though playing with Ty Lee and, especially, Mai, was certainly fun, it was always tempered by Azula's arrogant command of the activities they did.

His mother had always been his most favorite person to be around, the only person who protected him. It all changed one fateful day when he was eight.

It was Ozai's big meeting with Grandfather Azulon. It was a necessity that he impressed the then-Firelord with his accomplishments and especially the prowess of his two children. In this way, he could take advantage of the political vacuum that Iroh, the older brother, had created in lieu of his overwhelming grief at the fall of Lu Ten, Iroh's only child, at the gates of Ba Sing Se, at the very moment of penetration of its seemingly impregnable walls. Iroh, upon learning of the news, had retreated the army and singlehandedly ruined the first and best chance the Fire Nation had of conquering the world for an entire decade. Ozai hoped that his enthusiasm would persuade his father to choose the ambitious son over the favored, but now fully withdrawn one.

Azula obviously was a fanfare of flame, performing sets that even the oldest and most experienced firebenders could not even dream of emulating. And of course being the perfect apple of Ozai's eye, every move in itself was superior to anything even the most critical and reflective sages ever executed. Azulon even showed a hint of respect and awe to Azula, and Ozai radiated a heat that Zuko never felt before.

Then Azula pulled a card not even Ozai expected.

She leapt into the air, bursts of flame on her feet. Performing a graceful flip, she suddenly jettisoned fire from her arms and legs and sprung into action, performing the nigh impossible feat of flying through combustion alone. Azulon was at a complete loss of words at this blatant display of prodigal power, and Ozai smiled for the first time in his life, a genuine smile of surprise that lit his face and showed a side of fatherhood Zuko never experienced in his life.

And it was all for his abusive sister. After she landed, instead of kneeling, she nodded curtly to Azulon, who bowed his head in acknowledgment of such an achievement, and declared that Ozai should instruct her on the intricacies of lightning, which he delightedly assented to. He had never seen his family so happy before. And it was all for his greatest tormentor, his unceasing taunter, who always belittled him and had everything to show for it. That day, something snapped inside Zuko.

Zuko's next move was callous. After all, it sprung of envy.

Zuko boldly volunteered himself to perform the same moves as Azula. His father immediately grimaced, and his hands tightened into fists. Sternly ordering Zuko back, Ozai was even joined by Zuko's mother in dissent to Zuko's decision. But all Zuko saw was red, and all he heard was Azulon's praise of his granddaughter, Zuko's greatest tormentor. Zuko wanted to finally usurp his lifelong oppressor, and prove himself the superior sibling.

In fact, all he proved was that he was an underdeveloped boy whose awareness did not match his passion. As he lay in an exhausted heap in front of his father, Zuko knew that somehow, even worse than his utter humiliation in front of his grandfather, that he had done something horrible.

That night, his mother came to his room, asking after him, soothing him, telling him all was well. As Zuko merely clutched at his mother's bosom, he registered frantic words that he could not remember, only that they conveyed a desperate love for Zuko and an apology of what would happen, and a wish for a future that proved better than what his furious father had in store for him.

The next thing he knew, his sister had come to wake him up in the middle of the night, loudly boasting for the sleeping guards to hear that their mother was gone. Disappeared. Never to protect Zuko from the wrath of his father ever again.

The rest was history. He related his desperation to please his father for once, the day he earned his scar, the years of vengeful search for the Avatar, and his eventual realization of his misplaced anger. He concluded with his intent to save his nation and liberate the world from war, and received silence and wide-eyed stares from not only Reti, but the others who had overheard Zuko and gathered around to listen to him speak.

Reti slowly began shaking his head in wonder. "If that was a story, that was the best I've ever heard."

Zuko brushed it off. "It's the only one I have. It's of my life. And my only goal is to change the course it's taking. Which. Well." He laughed anxiously. "I guess going back to the Fire Nation wasn't what I expected?"

Reti did not smile. "If what you say is true -"

"It is. This is not something I lie about. Especially not the scar."

"And the Avatar is back. Then you have confessed your being to us, who do not generally trust outsiders nor divulge much of ourselves to them. Why do you choose to do so here, and now, with people you barely know?"

This was the most Zuko had ever received in a response from a sandperson, and cautiously, he ventured forth an answer, hoping it would not lead them to cut ties with him. "I mean... I wasn't planning to, but it would have been hard to get you to comprehend everything that has happened to me without context, and... none of it makes sense without going from the beginning."

Reti gazed at the ground. Then at the sky. He returned to staring at Zuko. And said. "I'm amazed you even trust us enough to share this."

Zuko shrugged. "I mean, you can look at it this way. What would you do with it? At worst, it's a way for me to vent my past to someone - which I have never done before in such detail - and even if you do not trust me, at the very least it would make a good fireside story to tell of a raving prince who found himself lost in a desert."

Zuko was not sure of what happened. But despite a lack of improvement in his observations, it was impossible to not feel a shift that had occurred sometime in between Zuko's tale.


It reflected in their response to Zuko's intrusions, trespassings, and incessant questioning about the sandpeople. Slowly but surely, as Zuko contributed to further tasks - mainly with his fire, but other times with his raw strength and determination - he found the people more and more willing to answer his questions. He learned that hunting parties ventured out daily to find quarry - for daily success was never consistent, and the wares of the comfortable times were stored and saved in preparation for trying ones. The often ventured in groups, and with multiple weapons fitted to each person - even the earthbenders - for even though the hunters were the predators, the beasts they hunted were often far more dangerous than the humans who lived off them. The buzzard wasps, although the least desired of cuisine to consume, were actually the easiest of prey to hunt down - yet each individual stung more aggressively than a hive of normal bees, and their beaks could easily strip the flesh of an inattentive man. There had been very many casualties in this manner, including Reti's own father. Food was not gained without a price - individuals sacrificed themselves to keep the group alive. It was almost disconcerting for Zuko to observe such a degree of altruism that he expected more in herds of animals than societies of people, but he did not comment. It was their way of life for many generations, and was the way of the desert. Even the methods for paying respect to the dead constituted of the remains or the ashes being set in the sand, to be eroded by carrion or the elements and finally become one with the desert. In a way, it was a moving ceremony. Although Zuko had never witnessed it, and likely would never witness it. If nothing else, the sandpeople were careful, and minimized accidents enough to the point where occurrences of such were a deep shock. Nevertheless, unfortunate incidents happened almost every year, sometimes even more frequently. The desert was harsh, and the people adapted to it.

The biggest source of salvation came from trading. By offering the goods of the desert to other tribes and the beetle merchants (so named for their method of transport and burden), the sandpeople acquired wares that helped with survivability and ease of living conditions in the desert. In fact, more than anything, these trades were the definitive line between survival and extinction of a tribe, and Zuko understood the implications of such an important proceeding and of his high priority as a captive. In a way, he sympathized with the plight of his captors - he was simply too large a boon to pass up, and he would likely have given himself up in the first place. In a way, Zuko felt a sort of bond with the tribe who took him in, to the point where it transcended his kinship with his own family. He not only knew their day-to-day life, but experienced it, partook of it, and contributed to it, and in this way, he felt a fierce bond with each and every member of the tribe, and it was clear with progressing time that the people felt the same as he did. The tribespeople seemed to be closed from outsiders, but once having entered the inner circle, the connections between members was strong and unbreakable.

The only exception was the woman who offered him his first answer beyond Cho'lbosh. Apparently, she was Reti's mother, a widowed, middle-aged woman who was clearly attractive but beaten down and weathered by the desert. Every meal and every encounter had her almost glaring at Zuko, daring him to challenge or disrupt even the slightest thing of the sandpeople. Zuko had heard limited accounts of the unfortunate events of her husband, but even so, she was the last to be closed and nigh distrustful of Zuko. He felt bad. But there was nothing to do, but let her watch and criticize the mistakes that Zuko did not make but possibly could.

As to trust, he still was not granted much autonomy or say in many matters. But it was a start. And that was something.


"You should stay after dinner today," Cho'l told him not unkindly.

"Why? Is something going on?" Zuko said warily. Even if he had earned a degree of appreciation and camaraderie from the sandpeople, he was still mindful of the fact that he was a prisoner about to be sold off to a nation that declared him a traitor.

Fortunately, however, the nature of the conversation was nothing of the sort. "Today is storytelling. Reti will tell a story."

"A story?" Zuko quizzed.

"Yes. In our tribe, it has been tradition to have at least one person narrate a story to the tribe - whether it be about old ways, or new happenings, or anything in between. Reti's father was an amazing storyteller and had been the storykeeper for many a year, but his son might be the best we've ever had. You have to listen."

Zuko squirmed. He would have loved to attend such a telling, but was uncomfortable and uncertain about the whole situation. "Are you sure about this? I don't know if it's right that I -"

Cho'l shook his head. "You've done enough to be considered in tribal activities. We really appreciate what you've done for us. Truly."

"Probably will appreciate it more when you've traded me for a nice comfortable decade ahead," joked Zuko. Cho'l looked almost uncomfortable at this mention, but Zuko clapped him on the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't think of it too much. I completely understand why you must do such a thing, and I would be honored to accept this invitation to your tribe's storytelling day."

Cho'l nodded in affirmation, although the uneasy look in his eyes did not desist.


"So I've begun noticing that you very rigorously check your sails and your weapons when you are riding, and that even despite being safer in numbers, traveling is done with large separation between each sail or team of people. Why is that?" Zuko, having finished his meal, came across another important question that had been nagging him for much of his time there. "Wouldn't it be detrimental if, say, buzzard wasps suddenly swarm the caravan's?"

Almost instantly, the hubbub at the campfire dwindled to nothing, the occasional crackle of the flames the only indicator that time still continued onwards. Murmurs arose from the crowd, people glanced at each other, and still several of them attempted to explain to Zuko the greatest danger of the desert when Reti suddenly jumped up and strode to the center of the camp. Instantly all disruptions ceased as every pair of eyes trained itself on Reti and all ears swiveled to listen.

"Now, banished prince, you ask a very daring question that threatens to quake the very foundations of our world, our life, and our ways. Today, you uncover a great secret of the desert that has plagued and sorrowed us for many centuries past. Today, you have asked a question we have let no one else ask outside of the nomads who travel with us, if not as brothers, then as acquaintances. Today, you have beseeched an answer of the nature of which will never be offered or shared to any outsider, for it is one that defines a true survivor of the sands from the rest of the world. Today, you learn of the greatest threat to our continued existence on these barren, unforgiving plains, and the bane of all those who dare to tread above its grounds of judgement - the sand shark!"

Indeed, though perhaps not as refined as the court scribes at his home, Reti had a way with words that captivated even the most critical of listeners, but, even more than that, he possessed an air about him that made the people naturally gravitate towards him and accept his word as truth, and it was as though Reti enlarged himself into a figure larger than life who spoke with the wisdom of the past and the ambition of the future, with the certainty of the present acknowledged but never alluded to. Zuko's heart thumped with anticipation as he found himself enthralled by the spectacle he bore witness to.

"What, you might ask, is a sand shark? Better yet to ask what exactly the sand shark is not. For there is very little that the sand shark does not encompass, and even less that proves any benevolent nature towards the other denizens of the desert. What it does not have is compassion. What it lacks is thought. What it is in want of is a basic morality that every other animal possesses. The sand shark is a cruel, predatory bolt of death that swiftly and surely smites any and all creatures that stray in its path." Reti took a deep breath, and only then did Zuko notice the flush of Reti's cheeks and the wild but focused fire in his eyes.

"The sand shark is a sneaky, salacious being of incredible proportion. Its carapace easily surpasses the width of one hundred sand sails, with the length surpassing a hundred times of that. It is faster than any vehicle that could be piloted in this desert, and is sleekly glides under the sands, the only sign of its presence being the telltale shift of a lone fin, and woe be the man who finds himself within distance of such portent."

"For in fact, in less than the time it takes a man to blink, the ground erupts as the sand flies into the air. The majestic doom of the sand shark leaps higher than its length, incredible crescent jaws widening to encompass swathes of its own carapace. In the extraordinary case that a hapless creature escapes this first fierce onslaught of the predator, the sand shark comes crashing down, jaws first, mauling the victims down into the deep abyss of sand, the only sign of struggle a gaping crater, impossible to traverse. The wake of the sand shark is one never experienced by the breathing, for there is nothing left alive to witness - let alone recount - such a merciless event. There have certainly been countless attempts to alleviate this impending doom upon our lives or to defeat it all together, but alas, it is all for naught. All that remains of these brave warriors are the anguished screams of sacrifice as they are offered to the almighty sand shark to pay for mere months of satiation. One such unfortunate story happened not long ago, to a trustworthy tribe with the misfortune of absence."

"Once upon an excursion, three boys eagerly pursued a deerdog - the finest delicacy of the sands - in the hopes of a meal that would last them until the next trading opportunity. It was not meant to be. No sooner did the sails skid to a stop realizing their grievous dereliction than did the fin erupt into a gargantuan beast that made short work of the promised quarry."

"It was fortunate that they minded the distance between themselves - for in this way, only the one who took the head of the party suffered a grievous injury. Yet even as they ceased to propel themselves forward and away, their motions had already drawn the interest of the sand shark and the greedy, empty eyes of death."

"Through the bravery of the fallen boy - for they were scarce over the age of thirteen - one of their number was able to escape, damaged but intact enough to tell of the horrors of their battle against the ferocious creature before succumbing, himself, to the a loss of limb and blood too vast to resist. They attempted to draw the sand shark away from each other, but the misfortune of the sand shark being far quicker than even the fleetest of sails make it impossible to fully outrun the creature. It was only the odd chance that the third hunter was knocked from his devoured sail that he was able to drag himself away from the carnage after the beast had retreated to its depths satisfied with its meal. The three boys, whose names are forgotten, tossed away for the wind and sand to claim, will nevertheless be remembered for their injusticed youth, their noble sacrifice, and eternal bravery in the face of impending odds."

"And so it is that even the bravery of many are felled by the might of malintent. The sand shark is not one to be trifled with, and we as mere men are doomed to set sail in a sea of a kraken whose hunts may only be delayed, never escaped."

"As nomads, we are doomed to an inevitable ruination. The sand shark is the very symbol of death and end to our people and our culture, yet there is one defense against its imminent bloodbath: sessile disposition. The sand shark is attracted only to movement, for movement is the only thing that guarantees life and food for the majestic being. Yet for us, staying still is certain death, for the sand will swallow those who refuse to move to save themselves. So we are caught in an impossible web that is slowly woven tighter and tighter by the day, spelling an eventual yet definitive demise for every individual and tribe who dares to live off the land of their ancestors." Story about three boys - one who dies, two who look for revenge and also die.

Everyone clapped at the end of Reti's cantation, and several people rushed to help the boy as he, drained from his narration, stumbled and lost his footing on the ground. Zuko being among those who helped half-carry the boy to a comfortable perch, he turned to one of the adults, a stocky man named Maru, and asked, "How much of what he said was true?"

Maru slowly shook his head. "Perhaps the stories would receive much warmer reception if they were ornamented exaggerations to entertain the tribe. But as it is, it's stories like these that must be kept and passed along, to warn those who will come of the dangers of the sand, but also the resounding resilience of our people."

That night, as Zuko lay in his tent - cleared of much volatile wares to aid in his comfort - he wondered at the mortality the sandpeople embraced, and the strong bonds that were forged between the fire of above and the maw of below.


"So how do the compasses work? They don't seem to point to magnetic north, yet you frequently consort them to steer yourselves in the right direction. How does that work?"

Cho'l glanced at him. "Oh. These things? There's a huge rock in the center of the desert. It's full of buzzard wasps to the point where even all the sand people united wouldn't be able to fend a first wave of the creatures. But the center of that hive is a rock, a lodestone of sorts, that causes all compass needles to point towards it. What we end up doing is we base our relative direction on the orientation of the needle so that we know we are traveling towards or away from the rock, and in times of absolute desperation, the sun may be used as a slightly less reliable means of navigation. The compasses are unfailing, as are the skids on our sails. We have learned to be masters of direction, for not knowing where one's relative location in the sand is certain death."

Zuko's eyes glazed in contemplation as he stared into the compass. This was yet another of the tribe's secrets that Zuko realized he would never fully comprehend. It was incredible to him just how the sandpeople found the strength to carry on with living, let alone thrive hardily on the empty lands.

They were traveling towards the merchants. Although Zuko was unbothered by this certain event, he saw troubled looks on the tribespeople's faces as they peeked in his direction. Talk had once more regressed into whispers and gestures, of which none Zuko understood. But his mind was too occupied at his eventual exchange and how to outsmart the beetle merchants and, eventually, his Fire Nation captors, to be engrossed in this sudden shift in behavior from the tribesmen.

In fact, so engrossed was he that he almost failed to notice the darkened triangle sluicing a path towards the convoy. "Cho'l."

"What is it, now, Prince?" Cho'l joked good-naturedly, missing Zuko's change in tone. Fortunately, the face of alert horror was enough to bring Cho'l to his senses.

"Zuko, what-?"

"Down!" he barked, simultaneously tackling Cho'l off the ship as it splintered into a thousand fragments. Zuko and Cho'l, blasted by the force, were sent tumbling through the sand as a roar thundered from above.

"Thanks Z-zuko..." Cho'l stammered then went white. Zuko did not need to look up to see what Cho'l finally recognized.

A sand shark.

Cries of fear and dismay erupted from the others who had reacted in time to the sand shark's onslaught. Fortunately, the sand shark had approached from the rear of the convoy, where Zuko and Cho'l were, and with the blessings of a strong wind from Vayu, the boats picked up enough speed to evade most of the sand shark's wrath. But Zuko could tell from the screams and wails that not everyone had made it through unscathed.

The sandbenders of the tribe hastily sprinted to formation as they attempted to harden the sand around the sand serpent's body. But the sand serpent was far stronger than Zuko, snapping the hasty cuffs around its torso like a twig. Families huddled together, clutching each other tight as they closed their eyes and waited for their inevitable doom. Those who fought back were quickly rebutted by the still-ascending sand shark's jagged scales, tossed about like rag dolls from behemoth's simple movement of rising. Sensing a feast, the beast roared in triumph at its fortune, unfurling itself for the preparation of a gorging of many centuries, yellow eyes gleaming with primal glee as it began its descent towards the silent people down below.

Zuko roared.

In all his life, even the many years that followed, he never remembered a sound so loud as the call of the dragons. The jet from his mouth alone burned brighter than the Sun, reaching farther than Zuko could see through his haze of red. He dimly noticed the sand shark temporarily motionless, and, guided by the rage and sheer determination of refusing to let this tribe - nay, his family down - he leapt into the air, flames forming at his limbs.

Steering himself away from the wreck of wood that was prone to conflagration, he issued a vocal challenge to the sand shark that drowned out even the roar of his flames. Concentrating all of his might, he drew a steady beam of heat, holding it until he could hardly contain the vast power, and unleashed it into the mouth of the sand shark.

The sand shark rumbled as light began spilling from its orifices. Its eyes glowed as its body began to swell, and smoke began trailing from the shark.

It opened its mouth, smoke came billowing out, and a huge rumble shook the entire earth.

The sand shark burped. Then it roared, more annoyed than hurt or upset that it had ingested an orb of pure energy rather than a delectable course of meat. Listening to the whims of its stomach, it turned its attention towards the hapless people below.

But Zuko was undeterred. Soaring past the shark, he jetted copious amounts of fire into its eyes to attempt to gain its attention, and the tactic worked. The sand shark diverted its attention from what lay fathoms below it and fixated on the immediate annoyance that buzzed around it like an insignificant buzzard wasp.

"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!" Zuko taunted, his eyes smoldering from the sheer amount of life he poured into his bending. If nothing else, if limited power could not save himself and his friends, he could at least save the others, as long as he lured it far enough and for long enough.

He began flying away, the exertion becoming more taxing by the moment, but his sheer will kept him alive, as did his recently recovered condition thanks to the sand people he owed his life to, if not his freedom. "Rockhead! Or should I say... sandhead? Your brain is too insubstantial to be even one consolidated mass!" he taunted. He well knew that his words would not get to the sand shark, but his tone, the noise he generated, and his pestering were likely to draw the shark towards him.

It worked. The sand shark, now thoroughly annoyed with the minor obstruction to its meal, roared and pursued him.

Despite Zuko's flying being somewhat faster than sandsailing, the sand shark far outpaced him, and furthermore, he could only accelerate himself through the air in short bursts. Even as his lungs screamed and his throat wailed, he grit his teeth as the sand shark descended upon him and began attempting to snatch him from the air.

The first strike nearly sent Zuko tumbling simply from the wind generated by the speed of the shark's neck. Disoriented, he barely threw himself out of the second jab, which clipped his boots and sent him into a spiral. barely able to break his fall with his newfound ability, he stared dully at the monster who, finally having quashed its pest, loomed over him with vindication. Dejectedly, Zuko returned his gaze to the ground, tired beyond belief, aching, and in pain. He didn't have it in himself to continue longer.

Then he saw, in the distance, the first sails springing to life, fleeing the commotion. The sand shark, sensing the disturbance in the sand, threw back its head and roared. Beginning to swivel its head back towards the main course, Zuko was galvanized by one final force. With grim determination, he shakily stood out, and screamed with a cracked voice. He felt the blood trickling and his skin crack, but Zuko did not care. He did not turn his back on his friends. His family. No matter what.

Rising into the air, he began his salvo with renewed vigor, once more attracting the ire of the shark and beginning the chase once more. As Zuko used the last of his energy to bait the shark, he spared one last thought for the sandbenders and hoped they were able to escape.


The campfire was grim that night.

Though they had lost very little save for a multitude of expensive sails, Zuko was on the minds of many. Reti and Cho'lbosh sat together, staring into the far distance where they had been ambushed by the sand shark.

They had not been without deaths - as was the nature of such wanton attacks. Those had been left behind with a quick word and prayer as the injured were swiftly sent Zuko was not one of them. He was a foreigner who had been introduced to their community by chance, and in the short time they knew him, he had proven selfless to the point of reckless sacrifice. Even despite his greater mission to end a war.

But important or not, Zuko had sacrificed himself so that the tribe would live, even though they would have pawned him off for their survival regardless. This weighed heavily on the mood of the intact tribe, and very little of the food was actually touched.

"Cho'l."

"Reti?"

"Do you..."

Cho'l gazed off into the distance. "I don't know. But... we didn't deserve this."

Reti shook his head. They had left Zuko far out of sight, his fate unknown but almost certain. Thoughts and prayers were spared towards the firebender who led the sand shark away from them, and somberly, they set about to reordering Zuko's former tent. Loss or not, life continued on as it always did, to honor those who died.

Zuko's equipment was set off to the side, away from the wares that would be sold to the merchants.

Reti gazed sadly into the opaque murkiness of his stew when Cho'l breathed suddenly. "Look. Reti."

Reti sighed loudly. "What is it, Cho'l? I -" his voice died as he saw a speck of light in the distance. "That's not a star." He said slowly.

"No, it's not. And no one wold be anywhere near us. That roar covered practically half the desert."

As one, they hastily stood up and returned their untouched meals to the pot, and set up their sail. Preparing to set off, an obscured figure stepped into their way and prevented them from setting out.

"Mother?-"

"Where do you think you're going now? Especially after what happened, we must be extremely careful to not -"

"We saw a light out there, mother." Understanding dawned in Reti's mother's eyes, and she bowed her head and stepped to the side.

"We should never have left him behind. He saved us. If there's any chance that we can repay the favor..."

"We will be safe, mother. May Kurma be with us."

Cho'l summoned the sand, and together the two boys sped off towards the glimmer.


The smoke dissipated long before they reached their destination, the fire even before.

Zuko lay in a crumpled heap, his entire body scaly with the strain it had endured. Cho'l let a low whistle.

"That will take quite a lot to heal."

Reti shrugged. "Gotta start somewhere. But yeah, you're right. Last time was the worst I'd ever seen a person in this desert who survived their ordeal. This trumps even the death cases I've seen."

"But if Zuko's proven anything, he's resilient. There's a chance he'll live." Cho'l pressed against Zuko's wrist. "Yep. A pulse. Very weak, but there."

Eyeing the prince with awe, Reti uncapped one of the several water skins they brought along. Slowly, he lowered a few drops into Zuko's mouth, and the boy sputtered weakly as the water entered his system.

"Thank goodness it's only been a day this time. He'll be dehydrated but not to the point of death. Those other injuries, though..." he slowly flipped Zuko over and his breath caught.

A jagged scar stretched across the small of Zuko's back. It was obviously a glancing wound, but with the magnitude of the sand shark, even minor wounds were serious ones.

Cho'l cursed when he saw the injury. "Yeah... that won't be good. Could be worse though. It's not worth a cauterization." Reti breathed with relief. At least they could afford that much. "There's nothing else to do now except... bring him back and hope the more experienced members of the tribe can help him out."

"We should probably leave him in a sandsailer. Sand probably isn't what we want to leave an injury to fester in."


The air was cooler than usual.

The tribe waited in silence as the beetle-headed merchants dismounted and unpacked their wares. "How goes it," one greeted coldly.

"All goes well. Smooth sailing all the way around."

"Anything of interest?"

"Only the usual. We thought we had something interesting, but turns out it was only trick of the light."

"You sure it wasn't cactus juice? The stuff can be pretty potent even when consumed in moderation." The spokesmerchant laughed good-naturedly, as did the sandpeople there to barter for certain goods. "In any case, is there anything you want from here?"

"Like we said, we didn't find anything extraordinary, so we'll just have to settle for the usual..."


Zuko groaned in pain. His back felt as though a dagger were driven through it. Was he back in the forest? Had he died? Was he in the Spirit World? Had it all been a dream?

Slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself in a cabin of wood, jostled with each bump of the silent gliding of the sandsail. So it wasn't a dream after all.

Attempting to sit up, he grunted in discomfort as the pain in his back multiplied tenfold. He quickly fell back into the bed just as Reti's mother rushed into the room.

"You're up now, aren't you?" Zuko nodded painfully. "Hmph. You really are a sturdy individual. It's only been about a week since you saved us all from the sand shark."

Zuko tasted the sand in his mouth. "I was hoping that that didn't happen."

Reti's mother shrugged. "It did. There's nothing to do about it now. We had a few losses, but nothing as bad as it would have been without you there. We lost a few men and children. A multitude of sandsails that won't be replaced for a while. And supplies. But we'll manage. As we always have. As we always will." This she said with an air of pride, but also of humility, as she stared into Zuko's face.

"Well... I mean..." Zuko struggled to find the words. "Thank you for... finding me and... saving me."

"There is no thanks to it. We simply repaid a debt to a kind stranger. Although, you aren't a stranger. You're one of us."

Zuko allowed himself a small smile. "I'm glad I'm considered in that way." His smile faded as he mulled over his future. He was now in no shape to fend of the Fire Nation or even a teenaged boy. His back hindered him far too much to perform strenuous activity, let alone fight or bend. Zuko was on his own.

Sensing his thoughts, Reti's mother nodded. "I prepared some things. Here are your old items." Zuko's eyes widened as his trusty pack was placed in front of him, with his two swords sheathed and clearly well tended to. "It's been a while since we've been in the possession of fine weapons, but we were able to figure out how to keep them intact. Also, this is your water canteen, alongside another waterskin for you to keep so you don't have to worry about dehydration so quickly. We also packed you some food and a little bit of currency to last you for a stretch and make your way. It's not much, but it was all we could muster-"

"Hold on," Zuko interrupted in confusion. "What's going on? Why are you giving me these things? Aren't you going to trade me and my belongings? When will the merchants be -"

"Zuko!" someone shouted, seizing him by the shoulders and energetically, if carefully, shaking his shoulder. "You crazy lunatic. You're awake!"

Zuko winced. "Hi Reti. What's going on?"

Cho'l walked in, a serious look on his face. "So... we've been thinking. You know. You've been really nice to us, even despite our coldness towards you. And then you saved our lives..."

"Well, if you guys died then I'd probably succumb to dehydration. It's not a fun experience, you know."

Cho'l shook his head. "You're telling me that leaving us to die then scavenging for the remnants wasn't an option? No. Even though we usually don't take kindly to strangers, well..."

"A good turn takes a good turn," Reti's mother completed. "And we decided... well... we met the merchants a few days back. It's a slow process to full recovery, but I think we will manage. In the meantime, we've brought you as far to the East as we possibly could. Hopefully it will be smoother sailing from here to the Earth Kingdom capital."

Zuko's heart swelled. "No. You didn't have to... you shouldn't have done this..."

Reti placed a reassuring hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You're family now. But you're also heir to a divisive nation in a divided world. It's time to take action and restore balance to the world. And we will support you in any way we can."

Zuko was too stunned to say much. "I'll... I'll repay you somehow... visit you guys..."

"All we ask is that you remember us every once in a while, and retell our stories," Cho'l said, a small glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "It was a pleasure to know you, banished prince."

"Are you sure-"

"We decided this the day you sacrificed yourself, without any regard, for the tribe, as someone who was not a blood member of the tribe. You have ingratiated yourself with us. And your noble actions will be told in stories to come, as the Prince who saved a tribe. Zuko - Tamer of the Sands." Reti said with a smile. "Thank you for everything you've done."

"And the gesture comes likewise." Zuko finally felt content, laying down with people he now trusted at his side. He was no longer a prisoner, free to set forth and change the rest of the world. As he had changed the hearts of the sandpeople.


"Well, here we are."

The sand had slowly darkened into a light brown. The beginnings of weeds began to overcome the endless sand. Zuko, strong enough to stand and walk on his own, said final goodbyes to the sandpeople.

"Thank you for everything, and I hope to see you again in the future," Zuko said solemnly. The tribespeople laughed. "I'm serious."

"It's doubtful you ever find us again, although we appreciate the sentiment. Even if you have the time, how will you be able to find us in the future? We don't exactly stick to one place."

"I'll find a way," Zuko vowed. "I swear on Agni."

"Who's Agni? A Fire Nation deity?" asked Reti. Zuko nodded. "Hmm. In any case, it would seem beneficial to have a firebender be able to lure any dangerous creatures from the tribe. Perhaps we should look into that..."

"Pssht. As if any firebenders would join us."

"The Prince of the Fire Nation did."

"And now he's leaving us. Besides, he's been banished. It's not like he can be hoisted onto some palanquin eating exquisite dates." They all laughed. "I am somewhat joking. Please, for the sake of the world - even those who are not directly affected by it - end this war and centuries of sickness, so that we can heal and become a better society."

"Will do." Zuko waved one last hand of farewell to the sandpeople, drank in the scene to never forget the moments or the memories he had there, and pivoted on one foot to resume his trek towards the Earth Kingdom capital.


He was unused to the fauna.

He forgot what insects looked like, what the birdcalls of the forest were. He forgot there were creatures as the boar-q-pine and the fox antelope. He forgot what the color green looked like, and what a campfire in the forest felt and smelled like. He forgot the fresh scent of the woods and the relative calm of the brook, especially the one he followed that meandered its way down to a lively river.

He was so enraptured by the scenery that he did not notice the large tracks of the forest until a loud roar shattered his tranquil stroll.

"Is that... that sounded like..."

Hurriedly, he tore through the forest, running as fast as he could. He could see that the tracks of the animal gradually became gouges in the dirt, and the forest gradually cleared up until Zuko found himself in a clearing, the sun casting bright light on everything below, including two figures confronting a third who was pinned to the tree by knives.

Zuko nearly choked on his words when he realized what he was looking at. "Mai? Ty Lee? Appa?"

"Sokka?"

Cut a lot of things short and ended up not writing a few scenes that probably would have transitioned the internal plot of this chapter better.

But there's the filler episode! Haha.

If anyone knows what I've referenced to in this chapter, either leave a review or DM telling me what it is. Correct responses earn a shoutout in the next chapter once it comes out in about 2.5 years.

The next chapter will be about Aang and Toph! :)))

I'm kidding. The next chapter is The Chase. Aang and Toph will be left to an unknown fate for now.