Dual dao crossing his throat, Aang could only await his fate: imprisonment or whatever his masked rescuer fancied. A whistle in air. A blow, a cry, blood spurting behind him. Arms slunk from his shoulders. He turned to see the theatre-masked man unconscious on the grass. More whistling. He heaved the man over his shoulder and scampered, dodging and bending away arrows, into the forest. Soft arrow thuds followed behind him. Blind in the dark, he sped away from his pursuers, branches snapping and leaves crunching. Spying a small cave, he dove in, listened for sprinting and yelling that gradually waned.
Thinking the threat passed, he turned his attention to his wounded comrade. Clothes soaked crimson and barely breathing, the masked man seemed almost a spirit. The arrow jutted out of his left shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound.
No. No. No! Don't die. Please, don't die.
Aang gripped the arrow and yanked. The trickle became a torrent. He pressed his hands to the wound. The blood continued to flow. He was succeeding only at coating his fingers.
What have I-No. I can still save him.
Aang's tattoos and the cave radiated white. He spun his hands, bending air around them. The color of white smoke, the air whispered like a mother's lullaby-like a gentle breeze. Circling his hands over the man's shoulder, Aang willed the blood to draw back and coaxed the skin to return. To reform. Once the bloody hole became bare skin, Aang collapsed from the Avatar state. Coming back to his senses, his discovery crashed into him like a tsunami.
What- How- Healing?
He sat limp in shock for several seconds. Shaking his head of bewilderment, Aang returned his focus to his savior.
I don't think it would be nice to sleep with that mask on.
Sliding up the mask, Aang could not see the man's face in the darkness. He could, however, hear the man raspily mumble in his sleep, "Mom, why did you leave?"
Recoiling instinctively, he thought, Zuko! But- Why-
Then Aang remembered a teaching of Gyatso: Never reward aid with an ill deed.
Zuko awoke to the feeling of earth beneath him and the sound of birds chirping. He opened his eyes and scanned around for enemies. Above him was the Avatar on a tree root, holding in his knees.
"Do you know what the worst part about being born a hundred years ago is? I miss all of my friends: Bumi, Taqluq, Kuzon. Me and Kuzon visited each other a lot. The two of us, we'd get into so much trouble. He was one of the best friends I ever had. He was Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could've been friends, too?"
Zuko punched a blast of fire, failing to even singe his only hope of return. Another failure. He was quite familiar with the sensation.