He was surrounded by flames. The heat cradled him, sheltered him. It soothed his pain and eased the suffocating darkness that threatened to plunge him into oblivion, but even then his body still made its agony known. A sharp stab to his chest. Not enough air, then too much air. Unable to breathe. Black dizziness sucking him further into the abyss.

Heartbeat slowing. Then cold. So cold.

No!

He plunged himself deeper into the flames, wrapping himself up in a blazing cocoon so that the icy fingers stealing around his heart would not be able to survive. It still wasn't enough. The cold was closing in on him, fusing with the darkness so that he was sure he would be swallowed up in it completely. Desperate now, he saw a spark of pale gold burning at the centre of the inferno and he reached out for it on instinct, hugging the light to his chest so that he could feel the gentle flutters of its energy beating against him like a tiny heartbeat. He clung to it so tightly that he lived and breathed the golden fire, letting it merge with his body, his chi, until there was no separating the boy from the flames. He was warmth and light. He was alive. Nothing could hurt him here.

Dimly, he became aware of something entering the threads of energy keeping his cocoon locked in place. A whisper of water, of the ocean. He resisted its touch at first, panicking at the thought of fire-quenching droplets and dying embers, but the watery presence simply shaped itself to his flames, embracing rather than extinguishing. He realised then that the water was not cold; it was warm, and it was trying to help him escape from the abyss as well. Cautiously, he reached out to the ocean-tinted caress, letting it entwine more fully with his fire—with him. He felt the moment when they fused: a union of heat and liquid, working together like the sun and rain to nourish his withering roots and restore balance.

"That's it," a voice murmured from somewhere above him. "Don't fight it."

The words barely penetrated his shell of flames. He was still clinging to the golden spark, buried deep within his cocoon; however, there was another part of him rushing in a fusion of elements through winding paths, unravelling twisted knots of energy and sealing up the gaping wounds that had sought to drag him into the abyss. Somewhere, far outside of his shell, a boy's chest rose and fell.

"Yes," the voice encouraged. "That's it. Breathe. Let the oxygen flow through you."

"Come on, Zuko!"

Zuko.

The name teased at his consciousness, whispering of a blue mask and a boy with a scar. Without realising it, he found himself letting go of the golden spark. The name was calling him. Calling him upwards, back through the shell of flames. He had to follow, had to seize hold of that name. Fire slipped from his grasp, letting him break free of his cocoon and separating him from the watery presence still swirling around those winding paths. He was so close now. He could almost see the truth taking shape in his mind, and then—

Suddenly, he was aware of unmoving limbs and a dull stabbing in his chest. He felt fingers of darkness holding his eyelids shut and the invasive touch of hands moving along his skin. Hands he could not see. Hands he could not stop. A scream of panic tore through him, but even that was silenced by the invisible palm keeping his mouth clamped shut. He was blind. Helpless.

No!

He couldn't bear it. Not again. Not like this.

Like a frightened child he lashed out at the hands, at anything, but his limbs wouldn't obey him. His chest rose and fell—too quickly this time. He was lost with the flames and the darkness, but the fire wasn't comforting anymore. It was too close, too hot. It was burning. He could feel it turning his face bloody and raw, feel the vulnerable flesh melting, feel the darkness closing in as his vision was obscured by a wave of orange. And then hands. Hands hurting.

"Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."

Zuko gasped and sat up with a rush, his eyes wild as heat exploded from him in a shield of flames, trying to push back every invasive hand, every unwelcome touch. Alarmed cries echoed in his ears, but he was already scrambling to his knees, already trying to run.

"Stop him!"

More hands grabbed him by the shoulders. More hands pulled him back towards the bed.

"No!" he yelled, shoving and twisting. "I won't let you! I won't!"

"Zuko, please! We're just trying to help!"

That voice. That was the Avatar's voice, but the sound of it just enraged Zuko even further. He struggled more fiercely, determined to escape. Determined to attack.

"Damn, this kid's strong," one of the men grunted, just narrowly avoiding being elbowed in the stomach.

Zuko growled and tried to force the man to release his grip with another elbow to the gut; however, the burst of energy he'd felt upon waking was quickly fading. His body was remembering that it was in pain and that he had barely rested for several days now. Legs that had hummed with strength began to wobble. Arms that had punched and thrashed with frantic speed grew sluggish. Suddenly, he was finding it very difficult to stay upright, let alone fight.

An elderly woman appeared before his star-blurred gaze. "Enough of this!" she said sharply. "Young man, you are hurt and you need to rest. Now stop trying to undo all of our hard work and lie down!"

"No!" Zuko snarled, and then he let out another roar as he tried and failed to twist free of the warriors' hold. "Let me go!"

"And where do you plan to go if they did?" she responded tartly. "You wouldn't make it very far dressed like that."

Distracted, he glanced down at his body and a wave of heat stained his cheeks. He had thought it had felt a little breezy. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"You were wounded. Katara and I had to get to your injuries somehow. Besides, stripping a warrior of his clothes is the best way to ensure that he will stay in bed, and I had a feeling you would be a stubborn one." She smiled in understanding as his blush deepened. "Don't worry, Katara chose to leave while I removed your undergarments, though you really have no reason to feel ashamed. Compared to some of the men I've seen, you're doing quite well for yourself."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained mortification. It was just his luck to run into the female version of his uncle. All she needed to do now was wink and his humiliation would be complete.

"Now then," she continued, pointing a finger at his face, "are you going to stop trying to run so I can finish healing you? Or am I going to have to get Pukiq and Arrluk to drag you back to that bed and tie you down?"

The two warriors chuckled. Zuko leaned his head away from the tip of that gnarled finger, looking a bit startled. No one aside from his mother or Shizue, his pseudo-nanny, had ever dared to speak to him in that way. It was disconcerting, but it was also incredibly frustrating. Who did this woman think she was?

"Come on, Zuko," Aang said. "Yugoda really is only trying to help, and you'll feel much better once you're healed."

Zuko whipped his head around at the sound of that voice, his eyes narrowing. "You!"

Aang's smile faltered. "Uh, yes?" he said uncertainly. "I have been here the whole time, you know."

A strangled noise escaped Zuko. How dare that little brat just stand there looking all innocent and confused, as if he didn't know what he had done! As if he hadn't summoned the Ocean Spirit and snatched away the lives of hundreds of men and women!

Suddenly, Zuko was renewing his struggles to break free of the warriors' hold, not even caring that he was cold, naked and exhausted. He was going to kill that arrow-headed idiot! He was going to—

A glowing palm touched Zuko on the forehead. He flinched at the contact. It was almost as if a blanket was pressing down on his mind, making his thoughts sluggish and his limbs weak. Before he could think to react, his vision blurred and he slumped against the two warriors, hanging limply between them as his eyes slid shut. Damn it, not again.

oOo

Yugoda calmly removed her hand.

"What did you do?" Aang asked.

"I put him in a healing sleep," she explained, gesturing for Pukiq and Arrluk to place the prince back on the bed. "He was getting too worked up."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "He seemed really upset."

"His navy has been defeated and he's found himself a captive of his enemies." She raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you be upset?"

"But we're not even trying to hurt him!"

"Do you think he understands that?"

Aang sighed. "I guess not."

Yugoda picked up the furs that Zuko had knocked aside in his haste and draped them back over his body. She was just checking his pulse when Katara dashed into the hut.

"What happened?" Katara asked, glancing from one face to the other. "I heard yelling."

"Zuko woke up," Aang answered, sitting back down on the ground and resting his chin on his knees.

"Oh." Katara looked thoughtfully at Zuko. "That would make sense since the sun is almost at its peak."

"What do you mean?" Yugoda asked, frowning.

Katara shrugged. "Just something Zuko said. I think firebenders gather their energy from the sun, like how waterbenders are more powerful when the moon is up."

"That would make sense," Yugoda agreed, and then sighed. "It is a shame our people have been at war for so long. I have realised while healing this boy that we do not know as much about firebenders as we think we do. It is fortunate that his chi is so willing to cooperate with our bending."

Katara took an impulsive step forward. "Then you felt it too?"

"Felt what?" Aang asked, scrunching his face.

"I have never felt an energy like this young man's," Yugoda said simply. "I do not understand it, but I do know that by being in contact with his chi, Katara and I were somehow able to heal his body much faster than I thought we would. It is a very strange thing indeed, but certainly providential for him."

"It's as if his energy is alive," Katara murmured. "You feel so much warmth, but it's almost as if his chi knows what you're trying to do, like it wants to help you. It's a little unnerving, actually."

Aang said nothing. He knew for a fact that Zuko could heal and that they were probably right in thinking his chi had been aiding them. Unfortunately, that was not Aang's secret to tell. He had not forgotten how angry Zuko had got upon being asked how it was that he could heal. Something in Aang sensed that it was probably not a good idea to say anything about that now, especially not with Pukiq and Arrluk listening. The warriors might be nicer than Iluq and Qaniit, but they were still Zuko's enemies. If the world thought that fire healers didn't exist, there was probably a good reason for that. Aang wasn't about to betray Zuko's trust. Not intentionally, anyway.

"Do you think he will wake again?" Aang asked instead.

"The healing sleep should wear off in half an hour, but it's possible he may sleep for longer. Hopefully, our young friend will have calmed down by then." Her eyes fixed on Aang. "As for you, Avatar Aang, I think it's about time you get some rest yourself."

"But—"

"I can assure you that Prince Zuko is not going anywhere. Now off to bed with you. You're making me tired just looking at you with all that yawning you've been doing."

Aang gave a sheepish grin, even as he smothered another yawn. "I suppose a little sleep won't hurt."

"Good."

"What about you?" Katara asked, looking up at the older woman. "You haven't had a break since you first started healing last night."

"I know, and I plan on heading to my bed right now," Yugoda said bluntly. "I'm not stubborn enough not to know when my body has had enough."

Katara gestured to Zuko. "What should we do with him?"

A smile curved Yugoda's mouth. "I'm sure you can take over healing for me while I'm gone. His condition is stable enough now. Just make sure that he continues to breathe normally and try to work on getting his ribs back into place. Other than that, the best thing for him is just to sleep."

"And if he wakes up?"

"From what I hear, you're quite capable of handling your own against him." Yugoda winked. "I'm sure you'll have no problem should he try another escape attempt."

Katara blushed. "I was only trying to protect Aang."

"And so you did." Yugoda placed her hand on Katara's shoulder. "Just remember: out on the battlefield those warriors might like to think that they rule the show, but here in the healing huts we are the ones in charge."

A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of Katara's mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Excellent!" Yugoda turned and spared a glance for the two warriors standing guard by the door. "Perhaps you should think about getting some rest yourselves. It's been a long night for all of us. I'm sure Iluq can find some warriors to replace you."

"If you think it is safe," Pukiq said cautiously.

"Oh, that boy won't be waking up any time soon," Yugoda responded, heading for the door and ushering Aang with her. "Either way, a half-asleep guard makes poor protection."

oOo

Pukiq and Arrluk had left to go find replacement guards. Both had looked relieved to have a chance to sleep. Katara could sympathise. The men had looked dead on their feet. It really had been a long night. She was just lucky that Yugoda had allowed her to rest once it had been decided that Zuko was stable enough to be moved to the healing huts. Even then, Katara had found herself seeing the glowing light of her bending when she closed her eyes. The only downside was that she now found herself alone with Zuko. The silence was unnerving. All Katara could hear was the crackling of the fire and his slightly laboured breathing.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," she muttered. "If you had just left Aang alone, you wouldn't have got injured. Then I wouldn't have had to heal you."

Zuko only breathed, still lost to the anaesthetic powers of the healing sleep. Katara's mouth twisted. She wouldn't admit it aloud, but she didn't like seeing him like this. He had always appeared to her as an unstoppable force: a monster who just kept coming and coming, always pursuing, always attacking. He was angry and hurtful and she had come to rely on that image—her image of the enemy. But this boy in front of her was breakable. This boy could bleed and bruise. She had felt his life in her hands, felt the sheer fragility of his heartbeat as she tried to manipulate his chi to keep the organ working. It made her feel so torn, because now those images weren't matching up. He wasn't just Zuko the monster anymore; he was also Zuko the boy.

Katara wondered if this was how Aang felt when he had said that they had to help him. Perhaps Aang alone had been the one to recognise that Zuko was human; that the prince, in fact, was not unstoppable, and that every time they had knocked him down, every time they had celebrated with glee at another close escape, they had also been adding to his bruises. They had been hurting him.

"I still hate you."

The words were a whisper, but she still meant every bit. She had healed Zuko because Aang had asked her to and because, deep in her heart, she didn't really want to watch someone die when she knew she could do something to stop it. But Zuko was still her enemy. He had tried to take Aang away from her, and she would never forget that. Being forced to recognise that he was human didn't change the poor decisions he had made. Nothing could change that.

Zuko inhaled a sharp, uneven breath.

Katara's brow creased. She gathered water to her hand and placed her palm against his chest, feeling the knots of energy that blocked his chi meridians and whispered of wrongness. Her knowledge of healing had not allowed her to sense that his ribs had been broken or that his lung had been punctured when she had first tried to mend his injuries—just that something was wrong. Now, thanks to Yugoda's gentle comments and corrections, she could almost see where the bones had cracked and come out of place. Thankfully, she and Yugoda had managed to seal up the hole in his lung before too many complications could arise, though it was true that Yugoda had done most of the work.

Katara sighed and dropped her hand from his chest. She might have held her own in a fight against Zuko in the Spirit Oasis, but he had shown her one thing: she was no healer.

"But I will be," she promised herself.

For the sake of learning to fight, she had dismissed her training with Yugoda and had studied combative waterbending with Master Pakku. Thinking back on her decision now, she realised it had been foolish to give up one for the other. The Blue Spirit had been both a fighter and a healer, and he was a male. There was no reason why she could not be both as well. Besides, Katara knew that even if the other waterbenders did think her weak for learning a women's art, she would feel the better for it. Realising that she could not heal Prince Zuko had been one of the most humbling and devastating moments of her life. She never wanted to feel so helpless again, because next time it might not be an enemy who needed her help. Next time it might be Aang or Sokka, and she could not bear the thought of not being able to save them because of her own pride and ignorance.

Katara closed her hand around the pendant at her throat, shutting her eyes as she felt the carvings dig into her palm. She would never let herself fail her family again.

oOo

Zuko was standing on a bridge. Dimly, he could hear the screams of battle echoing in his ears, but he only had eyes for one man. They had fought for so long and now he had finally got the bastard on his knees, now he was going to make Zhao pay for all the humiliation and pain. But then the black waters started moving below and a nightmarish shape took form, casting a shadow over the bridge as the creature grew and grew, glowing with the unearthly power of the Spirit World.

"No!" Zuko gasped, taking a step backwards.

The Ocean Spirit narrowed its eyes and reached down, snatching up the admiral in one swift strike. Zuko tried to help, tried to bring him back to safety, but then the face changed and it was no longer Zhao trapped in that suffocating fist; it was Iroh.

Zuko's heart clenched with soul-chilling horror. "Uncle!" he cried, reaching out frantically. "Uncle, take my hand!"

Iroh extended his arm and their fingers almost touched, but then the Ocean Spirit tightened its grip and the moment was gone. Man and spirit were already plunging into the black waters.

"Uncle!" Zuko screamed, leaning over the parapet and making a wild grab. "Uncle, no! Please, no! Uncle!"

Zuko's eyes snapped open. His heart pounded in a wild tattoo against his chest and cold sweat coated his entire body. He breathed deeply as he tried to calm his frenetic thoughts. It was a dream. Just a dream. Zhao had been the one who had got dragged into the ocean. Zhao had been the one to suffer the Ocean Spirit's revenge.

But his uncle.

A jolt of sick fear went through Zuko and then he was sitting up in the bed, looking around for any sight of the old man. His uncle. Where was his uncle? His gaze collided with a familiar girl with ocean-blue eyes. He reached out and grabbed her by the front of her robe, pulling her closer. "Where is my uncle?" he hissed, barely containing the fire that tingled in his fingertips.

Katara's eyes widened. "I—"

Before she could answer, Zuko's wrist was yanked back, forcing him to release his grip. He turned with a snarl to attack the newcomer, only to be slammed back against the bed, leaving him gasping for air as all of the breath was knocked out of him. Black dots swarmed before his eyes. Hands pressed down on his shoulders and legs, pinning him to the flat surface with ruthless determination.

"No!" Zuko growled, thrashing weakly against the guards' hold. "Let me go! I have to find my uncle! I have to—"

He broke off, coughing and taking in great gulps of air. Spirits, he felt so dizzy.

"Zuko, you need to calm down," Katara said in an exasperated voice. "You're just going to hurt yourself again if you keep fighting like this."

"What do you care?" He blinked past the black dots blurring his vision. "It's obvious the only reason you people healed me is because you want your little trophy so you can bargain with the Fire Lord!"

Katara recoiled as if she had been struck. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He met her gaze fiercely, even as the warriors continued to restrain him. "Then why am I here?"

She looked down at her hands, saying nothing.

Zuko let out a snort. "Thought as much."

One of the warriors—Zuko noticed that these two were different from the first men he had seen in the hut—smacked him on the side of his face. "That's enough out of you, boy!" the warrior said sternly. "You should be grateful that Chief Arnook chose to spare your life. If it was up to the rest of the tribe, you'd be rotting in the ocean along with the rest of your murdering kin."

Zuko flexed his aching jaw and a hint of smoke trailed from his nostrils. He was about to respond when the furs sheltering the doorway parted and Yugoda entered the room.

"What is going on in here?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

"The prisoner tried to escape," the warrior who had struck Zuko stated.

"Is this true, young man?" Yugoda asked, giving him a disapproving frown. "And here I thought you would have learnt your lesson from the first time."

A hot flush spread over Zuko's face. He was suddenly very grateful for the heavy furs twisted around his waist and legs.

Yugoda shifted her attention to the two warriors. "Well, what are you waiting for? Release him."

"This boy is dangerous! We can't just—"

"He is my patient, Kesuk. Believe me when I tell you that he is not going anywhere." Yugoda threw a sly grin Zuko's way. "He knows exactly what will happen if he does."

Zuko gritted his teeth as his face burned. Horrible old woman.

Kesuk gave Zuko one last look of dislike before removing his hands from his shoulders. The other warrior followed suit by releasing the grip he'd had on Zuko's legs.

Yugoda smiled at both men. "There now," she said cheerfully, "that's much better. Now we can all get along."

Kesuk's hard gaze flickered back to her. "Perhaps you're forgetting who this boy is, Yugoda," he said in a reproachful voice. "Right now he might be your patient, but he is still our enemy."

Some of the warmth faded from Yugoda's eyes. "I am aware of that, Kesuk."

"It doesn't seem that way to me." His mouth twisted with scorn. "This is why a woman is only ever good for healing. Your hearts are too soft, too weak."

Katara opened her mouth to retort, but Yugoda placed a hand on her arm.

"If that is how you feel, Kesuk, then perhaps you should leave," Yugoda said. "Clearly, a healing hut is no place for such a strong, uncompromising warrior as yourself."

If Kesuk heard her sarcasm, he chose not to respond to it in kind. Instead, he gave her an ugly look and stormed out of the hut without a backwards glance. The other warrior stood there a little uncomfortably, looking uncertain as to whether he should follow or not.

Yugoda sighed. "Go, Aguta. It's obvious you do not want to be here."

"But the prisoner—"

"Will stay where he is," Yugoda said firmly. "Don't forget that Katara has also been training under Master Pakku."

Aguta nodded and left the hut. The two healers let out a sigh, though it had to be noted that Katara's was more of an angry huff. Zuko ignored her and stared intently at Yugoda.

"Those men don't respect you," he observed. "Is it because you're a healer?"

She laughed. "No, it's because I'm a woman."

Zuko's brow creased. He would never understand the other nations' attitude towards females. In the Fire Nation, every person had to earn their own respect. Gender had nothing to do with it, though it was true that males were more likely to be seen in positions of power. He knew, however, that no one would blink twice if a female became the new Fire Lord—an event that seemed more and more likely to happen considering the way Zuko's life was going.

"I hate the way they look down on us," Katara gritted out, clenching her hands into fists.

"Don't let it bother you," Yugoda said kindly. "Those men can bluster and wave their spears around all they like, but true strength lies in being able to make the right decisions, not just the expected ones." She met Zuko's gaze. "Such as choosing to heal an enemy, not because you are weak, but because you are strong enough to see that it is the honourable thing to do."

Zuko averted his face. He did not want to hear about honour right now.

"Would you not agree, young man?" Yugoda persisted.

He said nothing.

Katara sighed and sat back on the cushion near the bed. "Well, at least we don't have those two warriors breathing down our necks anymore."

"You're right." Yugoda crossed over to Zuko's side. "Now then, since there's no one left to interrupt us, let's take a look at how those ribs of yours are doing."

Without even thinking about it, he grasped her wrist before she could touch him. A second later he felt the tip of an icicle dig into his neck.

"Let her go," Katara ordered, narrowing her eyes as she held the jagged piece of ice steady.

"Wait." Yugoda waved her free hand in a halting motion. She stared back at him and there was a hint of understanding in her blue irises. "I see now. You do not like to be touched, do you?"

Zuko held her gaze for a long moment and then looked the other way, releasing his grip on her wrist. "I want to know where my uncle is."

"Your uncle?"

"General Iroh," he elaborated, and then threw a heated glance at Katara. "He was there with you at the Spirit Oasis. He was the one who tried to stop Zhao from killing the Moon Spirit. You must know what happened to him!"

Katara shook her head and removed the icicle from his neck. "After Princess Yue became the new Moon Spirit, the general said he was going to look for you. We never saw him again after that." She hesitated. "I—I'm sorry."

Zuko pressed his face against his palms, shaking his head from side to side as if the motion could somehow banish the truth he had seen in her eyes. His uncle had been looking for him—for him—but Zuko had got caught. Their paths had never crossed, so what had happened to his uncle?

"What of the other war prisoners?" he asked, lifting his face from his hands and staring at the healers with unnaturally bright eyes. "There must have been others, right?"

"Just some foot soldiers and firebenders from what Sokka told me," Katara answered. "None of them were particularly high ranking. The rest of the navy fled back to the few ships that were still sailable or were—" She broke off, but she didn't need to say the words. The rest had been killed.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. So there were only two possible scenarios: his uncle had been killed or else his uncle had fled the city. Except Zuko just couldn't, wouldn't, accept that his uncle was dead. He tried not to think about the alternative. Just the thought that his uncle might have abandoned him to these people made something hurt deep inside of him, as if there were bruises all over his heart and someone was pushing down on each and every one with sadistic pleasure.

His mother had disappeared. His father had banished him. Now his uncle had—

"Ever since I lost my son ... I think of you as my own."

"No," Zuko whispered, pressing his face back against his hands as something hot prickled at the corners of his eyes.

He knew his uncle would never abandon him. Not intentionally. His uncle must have had his reasons for leaving, just like his father had no choice but to banish Zuko all of those years ago. It wasn't that they wanted to hurt him. It was just that he had made things difficult for them. He'd spoken out of turn and disrespected the Fire Lord, and now he'd got himself caught by the Northern Water Tribe. It wasn't their fault; it was his, which was why Zuko knew that he would have to be the one to fix the matter.

I will find you again, Uncle.

He didn't care how long it took. He would escape from this city of ice and then he would meet up with his uncle just like he had promised that he would. Everything would be alright then. Everything would go back to normal. They'd find the Avatar and then—then maybe Zuko could go home. Then maybe he could be reunited with his father as well, except this time Father would not look at him as if he was worthless. This time Father would have to be proud, because Zuko would have succeeded where no one else had. He would have captured the Avatar. He would have restored his honour.

But first he would have to find his uncle.

Zuko took in a shuddering breath, his throat burning from the effort of holding back tears. He refused to cry in front of the waterbenders. He wasn't a child anymore. He could be strong, but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. For almost three years he had travelled with his uncle. Now he was alone.

"My dagger," Zuko said in a thick voice, raising his head slightly to meet Yugoda's gaze. "What did you do with it?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Yugoda demanded, eyeing him sharply.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"My uncle gave it to me when I was a boy. It is"—he swallowed hard—"it's important to me."

Yugoda's expression softened. "I see. I will make sure it is safe."

He nodded in acknowledgement and then looked the other way, but not before he caught the wide-eyed look Katara was giving him. Suddenly self-conscious for the weakness he had displayed, Zuko glared at her with perhaps more anger than was necessary. "What?" he snarled. "This isn't a show, you know!"

"I know. I was just—"

"I don't need your pity!"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what, you don't deserve it either! You're a cruel, horrible person! All you've ever cared about is capturing Aang! If anything, your uncle is probably better off without you!"

"Katara!" Yugoda exclaimed. "That's enough!"

She just turned her back on the two of them. "I'm sorry, Yugoda," she said in a voice that trembled with emotion, "I can't help you heal him anymore. I guess I'm not that strong, after all."

Without waiting for a response, she stalked out of the hut and was lost to their sight as the furs fell back into place. Zuko clenched his hands into fists, inwardly fuming even as the bruises on his heart throbbed a little bit more. He would never admit it, but her words had hit him hard.

"Your uncle is probably better off without you!"

He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe she was right, but he would still look for his uncle regardless. He'd already lost his mother. He was not about to let his uncle vanish from his life too. There had to be a way he could escape this place. Maybe he could even try again now since the only combative waterbender had left. He was sure he could find some clothes somewhere and then—

The furs covering the doorway parted again and Zuko's eyes narrowed as he watched the warriors enter the hut. There were four of them: tall, strong men with weapons and waterskins glinting from within the folds of their furs. A collection of waterbenders and non-benders. One of the non-benders was Iluq, the same warrior who had tried to threaten Zuko with a knife and who had almost killed him with a kick to the ribs. Then Zuko saw that the other was Kesuk, and he knew something was wrong.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yugoda demanded, getting to her feet. "This boy is—"

"This boy is coming with us," Iluq interjected in a voice that brooked no argument.

"But—"

"You have healed him enough, Yugoda." Icy blue eyes narrowed. "Or are you going to go against your Head Warrior now?"

Yugoda lowered her gaze.

Satisfied, Iluq threw a handful of what looked like ragged bits of cloth and fur at Zuko. "Put these on," he ordered, "and hurry up about it."

Zuko frowned but did as he was told, occasionally throwing wary glances at the men. When he had finished doing up the last tie, one of the waterbenders grasped him by the arm and pulled him into the centre of the group, barricading him within a wall of bodies. Even if Zuko wasn't still feeling so weak and dizzy, he knew that he would not be able to fight them all and escape.

"Walk!" the waterbender ordered gruffly.

He obeyed because he had no choice, but after a while he began to feel frustrated. He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Where are you taking me?" Zuko asked, glancing up at Iluq, who was leading the group.

"To your new home, Prince Zuko," the warrior responded. "I hope the prisons will be to your liking."