The day was young when Zuko finally awoke.
He found himself face-down, bruised and battered, with a mouthful of gritty sand. Moving with a groan, the banished Prince clawed at the beach. The disorientation of his position was rather overwhelming. The last thing Zuko remembered was the ship - then the feeling of drowning.
And the darkness.
Shivering unknowingly, Zuko pushed himself to his knees while retching up sand. It poured out like golden vomit. The remainder of sand in his mouth was stuck like glue to whatever saliva had survived the mouthfuls of salted seawater. He grit his teeth, remembering what excessive amounts of seawater can do to one's body and brain.
Zuko sat back and began wiping the water and sand from his eyes - cringing when the sand from his hands just made things worse. He brushed his fingertips against his scar mournfully, staring at the endless golden nightmare at his knees. He hated sand with a passion.
This day couldn't get any worse, he growled and scrubbed his hands together.
Rocking onto his feet, Zuko analysed the place where he found himself. A stretch of expansive beach that kissed the horizon at either end, lined by wrecked palm trees and washed up shells. The cliffs beyond that pointed into one, very narrow, very vertical pathway - the sun was funneled through the gap right into his eyes. Zuko squeezed his eyes to block out the beam and stumbled back, before tripping over a large sheet of metal.
He screeched and braced his hands out - then instantly regretted it as his blackend nails and bruised hands smashed on the metal. Hot metal. Hot steel metal. From the ship. Realising that, Zuko cast about looks around himself, cradling his poor hands carefully infont of his chest.
To his far right lay the silvery crescent moon that was the ship. Men were littered about it; some stumbling about helping others, some kissing the sand with grateful haste. Zuko grimmaced at that before wobbling the way towards them.
His clothes were torn up and his body didn't fare much better. His armour was missing a gauntlet and shoulder pad; and his breastplate was was completely gone. A tare right from his left shoulder to right hip exposed his chest through his silk tunic - it also left a traceable imprint on his skin - not a cut, but a line of bruises.
In Zuko's opinion, it was worse. It hurt everytime he inhaled.
One boot, too, was gone, leaving him to hobble along on the scorching hot sand. Jee was the first to great him with a peculiar look on his face. He was one of he sand-kissers (which Zuko didn't expect in the slightest, the man was always so composed):
"Sir... We're... we're ALIVE!"
Zuko took half a step away from the desperate man. Jee was showing an odd mixture of fear, uncontrollable happiness and anger which was quite unlike his usual reserved manner. Sidestepping the man, Zuko proceeded on, to find his Uncle in the midst of the men and wreckage. Although it wasn't that hard.
The Dragon of the West was sat in the shade of the ship, soothing Niraj the Helmsman - but the latter of the men was half-unconcious. His hand was stained with his own blood. Zuko clasped both hands over his mouth to hide the fact he was blanching at the sight of the jagged wound in the man's side. Iroh was unaffected - or appeared to be.
"My dearest Prince Zuko... Good Morning."
Hearing his Uncle gave the Prince some comfort. But not for very long, as Niraj gasped hoarsely and began to shake as he sobbed into Iroh's shoulder. Above them, two Sea Ravens wheeled about in an ecstacy of cawing, fighting over who would get the best pickings of dead Kimono Rhino (unfortunately, none had survived the storm - Zaheer the trainer was sobbing over them). A Lion Vulture passed over the sun without a noise. When the two Sea Ravens saw it, they scarpered as quickly as thier wings could take them.
"If it can be called such," Iroh added in a vain attempt at light-hearted humor. Zuko set his eyes on the beach, higher up where it was banked with shells of all sizes and upturned trees. In the midst of all the wreckage - something glittering caught the Prince's attention.
He went to go towards it but was stopped when Niraj gasped in pain. He knew that it would be better to stay, to take as much care of the injured as possible... but it would be an awful lot better if they had a healer. Or knew where the closest healer was. Iroh pressed his open hand onto one of the Helmsman's legs. He frowned and tutted after a short while of awkward silence.
"What?" Zuko stressed the exclamation- trying to hide his fear with anger. Iroh gazed up at his Nephew and saw through the charade with ease. He didn't comment though. Instead, he answered the question:
"He has lost feeling in his legs-"
Niraj clawed at the sand to punctuate Iroh's words. Zuko cringed.
"-We need to find a Waterbending healer."
Well, Zuko bared his teeth, there were two problems with that comment. One was that if they were in the Fire Nation (which in all probabilities, they were) then a Waterbender would be nonexistent. And it would be deadly just to even breath that bending arts name. And two was - all of them, all of them, were known associates of the banished Prince so were allowed to be killed (or captured) on sight. Zuko ran a hand around his throat.
He would rather he had a neck intact. With his head too.
And the men. Zuko couldn't let them be killed for his mistake. There were no two ways around it - they couldn't get Niraj (or anyone else as a matter a fact) be healed by anyone. A man's heavy foot falls came up behind Zuko. They stopped short and made some sort of manoeuvre towards the Prince's left shoulder.
Sargent Pratap shifted and gave Zuko a greeting grimmace before folding his arms behind his back. His long black hair was knotted with seaweed and stuck up at all angles. He squinted in the rising sun, shielding his dark eyes with a hand. He opened his mouth to speak.
"The men are- are as ready as possible. We are awaiting instructions. Sirseses?"
His definition of ready wasn't entirely everyone else's. Behind Zuko and Pratap the others were all laying in a line - some snoring whilst dusted in sand and others popping their lips aimlessly as they stared up towards the sky. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose as Pratap shrugged with a lop-sided frown. Iroh ignored the exchange as he continued to assist Niraj.
Zuko wet his lips with a pop, "We need to find food. I'll come with you."
His hands were battered and his chest felt painfully tight, but Zuko wanted to do something other that stare at the horribly injured Niraj. Pratap patted Zuko's shoulder gingerly as the two men turned to instruct the others. Lieutenant Jee was sat with his arms on his legs - staring out into the raging surf with a new expression on his face. Pain. Or prehaps distant loss.
Reading emotions was not Zuko's strong point. He clapped his hands (flinching as he did so) and iced over his own features to show as little emotion as possible. He coughed and balled his fists:
"Men- get to your feet. Now!"
"We're going on a little field trip," Pratap attempted to lighten the mood; elbowing Zuko's side. He was shot a furious snarl and that was that.
火
The sun filtered through the leaves, dappling her skin shades of blurred white and green. The weapon in her hand rested back against her cheek - the shaft of the atlatl arrow noticeably cool in contrast with the humid jungle air.
The Hog-monkey squatted in the branch across from her - picking at the bountius purple berries. She smirked as it stuffed handfuls of berries into its vicious maw. The heafty atlatl in her hand drew back, the arrow grazed along her cheekbone with a slight hiss. The Hog-Monkey - however - was none the wiser.
Pointing her free hand towards the target, the huntress steadied her weight on the moss packed treee with a her knee rammed into the V-shape of the branch. Her other hand, in which she held the spear and thrower, extended further back. She ceased to breath and took final, silent aim.
The spear split the air before it with a fshwoo and spiraled towards the unfortunate Hog-Monkey. It bellowed deafeningly at a rustling from the jungle floor before turning to see the spear whistling towards it. With a swift and powerful leap directly vertical, the arrow sailed right past the now vertical monkey - embedding itself into a tree trunk with a doyoyoyng.
"-idea where we are?" One voice echoed about - stunning the girl. A group of men, all of varying ages, burst into the clearing below her. She kept incredibly still - not even daring to blink - in fear they would see her. The men were all following a scarred boy with an attitude problem.
"Shut up!" The boy snapped, fire flickered as he swept his hands about, "I know we're lost you- you dunderheads!"
He looked injured - a tear in his clothing was evident. The men who had followed him also appeared battered and bruised... and foreign. Hmph. She tucked the carved atlatl thrower into her belt and decided against freeing the weapon from the trunk. Too much movement and sound.
Her rough hands grazed her face in exasperation. She should tell Chief Inti-Himawara - her father - of the invaders. The man who had explicitly told her not to go hunting alone (or at all, as it wasn't the proper thing for a Cheif's daughter to do, yada yada yada). He would probably yell at her for disobeying him - then have Yota (she shuddered) and Ham Ghao on full watch. She restrained herself from Firebending in annoyance and repulsion.
Firebending - as High Priestess Tala scolded - was not supposed to be born from fury or intimidation, but from enlightenment and knowledge. The dragons hadn't given you this gift to waste it on futile emotions.
She rolled her eyes everytime that lecture was given. Tala, however lovely she was, could also be incredibly annoying. The rabble below her began pushing on further into the jungle - towards the Sun Capital. Waiting until they passed, she slipped through the canopy and started wiggling the arrow free.
If she caught them - then surely that would prove she was a more than able huntress. Resolving to do so, she set off through the thick cover of branches to stalk her prey.
火
"I'm pretty sure this isn't the way back, Sir," Jee spat furiously. The man, ever since arriving on the land, had been subject to mood swings - this was one such thing. He swatted aside a human-sized leaf before turning and disintegrating it with a blast of fire. Sargent Pratap grimmaced and began stomping to put it out.
Zuko, who was at the head of the train of men, didn't seem to notice (or care). Private Azar stepped foward, his brow beaded with sweat from the walk. Zuko set his jaw as the recruit complained obnoxiously into his good ear.
"I want to go home! Sir, Jee's right! This isn't the way back!"
The Prince was having a hard time wrangling his arms from wrapping around Azar's neck and strangling him until he was a- No. He had to remember what Uncle Iroh had taught him about breathing exercises. Damn those breathing exercises. He needed to strangle- punch- kick something.
Cracking his fists, Zuko snapped his head about. Everything looked poisoned. The large misshapen fruits that hung higher up in the canopy were blotched red and green - not entirely appetising. Purple berries would flash across his view, but they could be a special poisonous variety. A plump toad burped at them from a nearby steam. That, too, could be poisonous. Everything could be poisonous!
"Argh!" Zuko couldn't restrain it anymore. He raised his fists and punched the air infront of his face. The air buzzed with power as an unintended fireball built up. Zuko stumbled back into Azar, as he watched the thing grow. To his horror - it didn't stop. The fireball was now as big as him and it just kept going. The entirety of the rabble were now watching it. They crept away carefully, but ended up being backed into a triangle of trees.
It swelled, crackled and roared with the pure amount of energy building up. None of them - none - had seen anything like it before. It was as if the horrifying thing had a mind of its own. Zuko glanced between his splayed out fingers and the giant, swelling ball of fire. How in Agni had he done that?
Streakes of green, blue, yellow, red - all the rainbow - were laced into the ever expanding ball. It reached its maximum expansive (the middle of the canopy at its peak) before imploding harshly. As it screamed into a miniature size, the men shuddered in the huddle. This place (and Zuko) had definitely earned their eternal respects. The Prince now just stood, staring in fear at his smooth, yet battered, hands.
He had just done that. He did.
Raising two fingers, like he had seen Azula and Uncle do, he focused on the image inside his head and took up a stance. Behind him, the crew were now practically clambering over each other to escape him. Some where in others arms, had leapt into Azar in Pratap's arms - bridal style.
Zuko took a deep breath and focused. He channeled his will and energy to his finguretips - but unlike the giant fireball, nothing happened. He curved his lips into a snarl. He still couldn't Lightningbend after that?! What the actual-?!
He kicked out, hoping at least that would do something. But no. Nothing. No fire spurted from his barefoot. Zuko, his eyes wide in shock, stood with his mouth gaping. His fists flew in fear. No fire in the slightest sense spurted forth. He hesitated and haulted his attack on the invisible target to examine the damage caused by his fireball.
Everything it touched was scorched, so that proved it had existed. But now his fire was gone. Mabye, he screamed and swung a desperate fist, it was anger driven. Nothing. His body shook as he drooped and spun in booted heel to face the petrified men. He raised an outstretched fingure at Jee, who was sitting on Rajesh the cooks shoulders.
"Jee, Firebend, NOW!" He ordered. The Lieutenant, who had snapped back to his usual reserved angered manner, leapt from Rajesh's shoulders and coughed awkwardly. The cook swatted his hand in a 'forget about it' manner.
Jee stepped into a lunge and double punched the air before him. Two tiny balls of fire emerged from his fists. They orbited merrily around each other before shooting off towards the right. Jee swallowed and pointed after them cautiously:
"That- that's never happened before..."
The three other Firebenders (Azar, Shun and Zaheer) goggled at each other before stepping foward and attempting to Firebend simultaneously. Azar's fire sparked from his hands before exploding in his face; Shun's funneled into several beams that shot at all angles; Zaheer's swirled in a funnel before flittering into nothing. Azar, his face blackned with the explosion, held up a hand.
"Uh- sir. I may think - and this is just a guess - that the Firebending has gone wrong."
Zuko ground his jaw so hard his teeth began to wear down, "I noticed that, Private."
Something was really, really wrong. Zuko clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to remember something his Uncle had told him - when he was seven or eight - what happened in the spirit world. Something about bending. Firebending... it ceased to function. But it hadn't stopped, only gone faulty. So they weren't in the Spirit World...
Where in Agni's many names were they then?
"No one should attempt to bend - it's way to dangerous, " Jee's level-headed leadership returned with a crash. Every single soul there agreed to his word. Except Zuko. He couldn't Firebend if he wanted. His had gone. That made the hair on his neck stand on end. He couldn't bend.
If he returned now with the Avatar, then he still wouldn't be returned to his rightful throne. He would be jeered at, humiliated, driven away again because what use is a non-bender as a Fire Lord. Personally, Zuko didn't see the difference, but his father and Country would. Azula would kill him with ease now.
He couldn't bend.
"Men... follow... follow me..." Zuko heaved a sigh, still examining his hands. He sidled off into the jungle, shuffling rather than walking. His bending had gone. He needed answers. He didn't care anymore about the pain emanating forth from his body. He wanted - needed - his bending. It was part of who he was.
Sure, he had plenty of other Non-bending skills but Firebending was him. Swords could be learnt by anyone. But Firebending - especially for a Prince...
The vegetation seemed to close around them as they delved yet further into the jungle. Light was thin-on-the-ground now (literally and metaphorically). Jee was now subject to Azar's whinging. He took it suprisingly well - better than how Zuko took it. They pushed past a creeping Prickle-Pine Bush and attempted to avoid the spiders weds as best as possible. (Shun got a mouthful of cobwebs and spiders, so he coughed and spat for the rest of the desperate ramble).
Ahead of the train of dejected men, Zuko batted carelessly through the undergrowth. He - without his bending - was not whole. To begin with, he wasn't whole but even more so without the fire coursing through his veins. It felt odd; like he was a prey now. Like something was watching his every move.
His eyes instantly went to a break in the canopy. But no, stupid of him to think that... that someone was there...
He turned to thinking about his search for the Avatar - who, thinking about it, would be half-way across the globe by now. Zhao was probably going to capture him. Zhao was going to get the glory. Zhao, Zhao, Zhao. Zuko hated the word.
"Sir!" Someone's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, "Watch out!"
This day couldn't get any worse.
Well, apparently it could because - after not only being rendered a useless Non-bender - Zuko was now at the point of a spear. The jungle had given way to a towering courtyard structure, lined with crumbling pillars. Over the ruins lay the outline of a triangle that peirced the sky. Dragon and Solar motifs decorated every avaliable space.
The arrow - an unusually large one - at his neck belonged to irate girl. Her face, although hidden by the shadows playing about the courtyard, was clearly contorted with rage. It was also painted, from what the startled Zuko made out, with black ash and blood-red lines. Two followed her cheekbones; one pointed down (similar to the young Avatar's tattoos) towards the bridge of her nose; another two jutted up on her chin to her lips.
She made a movement with her lips and a sound at Zuko - he could tell it was threatening, but not sure what it actually meant. The soldiers and sailors raised there fists for a fight, but Zuko called them off with a twitch of his hand. The girls teeth showed in a wide smirk.
"Come with me," her foot slid back into a fighting stance (her voice was thick with an accent that Zuko couldn't quite pin down), "And no one gets hurt."
A threat? From a girl? A girl with facepaint and a warrior-like appearance. He had faught a squad of them once before and drawn (not lost, he decided to make a tactical retreat to chase the Avatar!).
"Really, little girl? I could fight you blindfolded. "
She scoffed harshly. Then, Zuko remembered his Firebending. And his Uncle back at the beach. And Niraj. But the threat was already made - he couldn't take it back even if he wanted to. The girl, her fierce bronze eyes ablaze, adopted a complete horse-stance. Her left arm, the one closest to Zuko, on which she bore a woven black gauntlet and triangular hand tattoo (dotted on the edges), raised to replace the arrow at the Princes throat.
"I've always wanted a sparring partner," Her teeth flashed again as she smiled coyly. Zuko gulped harshly, beginning to back up. The obsidian bladed arrow was more inviting than her smile.
Jee shuffled into a fighting stance to aid the Prince. The others, tired from both the ramble through the seemingly endless jungle and storm last night, turned to flee. But the girl stood her ground as Jee commanded them back.
The girl's eyes peered about her, "Well... this is going to be fun."