"Let me take a look at your wounds, Prince Zuko."

Zuko turned towards his uncle, away from the glare of the sun on the waves, and frowned. They'd both awakened at dawn, as per normal, and with little else to do, Zuko had been just staring at the horizon. His thoughts were filled enough to keep him company for days, it seemed. He couldn't get the previous day (days? weeks.) out of his mind. He'd been content to let the silence drag out, accenting the splash of the waves, and the cry of the gulls. Evidently his uncle was not.

"I'm fine, Uncle." Zuko said, wearily.

"Zuko, if the wounds on your face were the most of the damage sustained from that explosion, then I'd have counted myself a blessed uncle. But somehow, I know that is not the case." Iroh raised an eyebrow. Zuko sighed. His Uncle wasn't asking a question. In truth, he knew the full extent of his injuries even better than Zuko himself did. It had been Uncle who'd found his limp body lying on the shore of the bay, surrounded by the wreckage of his ship, and bleeding from various cuts and scrapes. Uncle had sewn up the deepest of the jagged lines spider-webbing over his shoulders and back, and he'd ignored the bruises as he always did.

Though the fight with the Waterbender hadn't been pleasant...

Zuko sighed, and started pulling off the layers of silk that had been soaked and dried via firebending too many times over the last few days-they were starting to hold their shape. He winced at the movement. It was fine when I wasn't thinking about it... He also wasn't entirely sure that some of the stitches hadn't ripped at any point during the two days of fighting.

When Zuko knelt bare chested in front of Iroh, the retired general sighed internally in long-suffering. He'd seen much much worse in his days in the army, but his nephew had a penchant for acquiring scrapes and bruises like no other child he knew. It had been a sore point between his brother and nephew as long as Zuko was walking. It wasn't that Zuko was clumsy, or intentionally got into dangerous situations, things just happened to him.

This particular time, however, the cuts on his nephews back weren't caused by a childhood mishap, though Zuko was young enough that in an ideal world he'd only have to worry about simple accidents. But, no, Zuko's adversaries on all sides were much more deadly, and for that Iroh mourned.

"Uncle?" Zuko was twisting around, his concerned voice broke his thought, and Iroh shook free of his musing. This was not the time to sorrow for days never to be.

"Pardon me, my nephew. I got distracted by the joyful flight of that sea-bird. It's good to remember that in times of sorrow, there can always be found something that brings happiness." Iroh covered his inattention sagely. Zuko almost certainly rolled his eyes...but no, his nephew would never to that to his beloved Uncle!

Iroh knelt down on their wobbly craft, and eyed the sutures in Zuko's back closely. They seemed to have healed well, though some had smears of blood that told of a rip before it closed up again. But nothing was bleeding now, and Iroh didn't have the instruments to do anything more. He glanced at their horizons, and hoped they'd reach land, and friendly land at that before Zuko's stitches had to come out. Though there remained the question of what land was friendly to him? He and Zuko both had fought Zhao, a man at the North Pole on a mission from the Fire Lord himself, and he'd helped the other side (those too young teenagers...) By all rights, he was a traitor to the Fire Nation.

But that was neither here nor there now. Now their concern was survival, and that including making sure Zuko was healthy enough to cope with a possibly long voyage.

Zuko shivered at the water Uncle used to clean his wounds, then winced as he felt the salty ocean make its way into the cuts. The salt would keep it clean, but it stung awfully.

Uncle Iroh finished tying the knots on the ragged bandages, and sat back with a satisfied sigh. Zuko, once war-roughened fingers were no longer tugging painfully, lay down to stare at the sky.

"Uncle?" Iroh looked over at his nephew, limp as a new born colt on the raft surface.

"Nephew?"

There was a long silence, as if Zuko hadn't realized he'd even spoken aloud, and now had to organize his thoughts.

"Will we get out of this?" He finally asked, and Iroh frowned. It wasn't like Zuko to entertain thoughts of not making it. He'd taken the message on the knife Iroh'd gifted him as a motto for his life, and it served him well. To see him without that determination was...disturbing. Iroh hadn't even realized how much he depended on knowing that his nephew would never give up without a fight.

"Of course we will, Prince Zuko." He turned to the south east, the direction of land. "We'll hit the Western edge of the Earth Kingdom soon." Iroh winced as the words came out. They were untruths, and if it was one thing Zuko could always tell, was when someone was patronizing him.

Sure enough, his nephew sat up, staring at him incredulously.

"Uncle, it took us over a week to sail to the North Pole in Zhao's steam powered warship. We're drifting on a raft. There's no way we'll make it in a few days! We'll be lucky to survive long enough to ever see land again!" Zuko didn't add that he did not think very highly of his luck at the best of times. He'd told the Avatar that he had always had to work and fight to get what he wanted, but out here...there was nothing to do but drift.

Uncle came over, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Zuko, sometimes life-"

"None of your proverbs, Uncle!" Zuko stood, grabbing the mast, wanting to pace, but lacking the space. The fact only served to make him more upset. He breathed a burst of flame upwards, startling a sea bird that had been perched on the tip of the sail. Iroh had his eyebrow raised, but calmly waited out his nephew's rage. True enough, a moment later, Zuko slumped back to the deck and glared at the sparkling water.

Then he blinked, noticing the water's movements. It wasn't quite normal looking...in fact, it looked as if something was moving it from below. Something large.

"Uncle..."

"It's alright, Nephew, I realize that this is a stressful time-"

Zuko shook his head, not moving his eyes off the strange, displaced waves. "No, Uncle, look!" He pointed. Iroh came over to look, putting a hand on the mast for balance. What he saw made his eyes widen. Clear lines in the waves as if being sliced by a blade, a suggestion of a fin swishing in the water.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, remembering the something that had grabbed the dead bird yesterday.

"I believe it is our follower from yesterday, hungry for another bite to eat." Iroh mused. "Perhaps if we offer another morsel, it will find us less appealing."

Zuko nearly slapped his own forehead in frustration. "Uncle, feeding it will only make it follow us longer." Zuko stood, raising a fist. "We need to scare it away, so it doesn't eat anything we could hunt."

"No, Zuko!" Iroh grabbed his nephews arm, preventing Zuko from blasting the creature.

"What's the matter with you? That thing is dangerous!" Zuko yelled, pointing at the rippling waves.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you-"

Zuko's words died in his throat, and his eyes widened. The rippling water had parted as he spoke, revealing the animal for the first time. With a burst of spray, and a bubbling snort, the creature erupted from the ocean about 30 feet from their bobbing raft. It was larger than Zuko had imagined, about 15 or 20 feet long, with black and white markings covering it's body. Inside it's mouth were the large, sharp looking teeth that he'd seen gobble up the bird in one bite. The mouth itself looked to be big enough for Zuko to climb inside...

Beside him, his uncle had his mouth open in awe. "A panda-shark! I never thought I seen one outside of books and tales."

At that moment, the panda-shark turned towards them, the wake from the turn cause waves to splash over the edge of the deck. Zuko and Iroh yelled in fear at the giant monster bearing down on them.