**Note from author: I apologize for this taking longer than normal to put up; you all know how life gets, though. Enjoy!**

I'd done my best during my hundred-plus years in and out of various prisons to avoid waking up from unconsciousness in a cell. The same went for the skull-cracking headache that I was currently dealing with, as well as the tender, throbbing lump at the base of my skull; but darned if it didn't just keep happening lately.

Moving as little as possible, I took in my new surroundings warily. I was still chained hand and foot, but my limbs were no longer stretched to the point of discomfort; instead, lengths of chain set firmly in the metal wall snaked to manacles on my wrists and ankles, providing me with a certain amount of movement. There was no suspended cage or long walkway, simply three solid steel walls and a set of smooth, plain bars facing a corridor pocked with similar cells. 'Looks like they haven't had time to prepare the brig for my arrival,' I chuckled to myself, noting the lack of any "anti-spirit" markings.

A door at the end of the hall squealed open, making me wince, and light footsteps resolved themselves into a familiar form. "Shun!" I cried, delighted. "How'd you get aboard?"

He smiled at me, but it was tainted with worry. "I managed to convince Commander Zhao to take me on as your caretaker, of sorts."

"Thank the spirits for you, Shun," I said with feeling. My friend had found a way to stay by my side; I wasn't alone on this behemoth of a ship. "So where are we, exactly?"

"As near as I can tell, we're moving south now. Apparently, Zhao got a lead on the Avatar."

"What's the deal with everyone wanting to imprison young boys all of a sudden?" I said irritably. "I can understand how it might have been cool a hundred years ago, but c'mon! First Zuko, now Zhao! I suppose the good commander wants him to be his gardener?"

"Well," proposed Shun, shifting uncomfortably, "the Avatar is the only thing that could stop the Fire Nation from winning the war."

"Oh, and that'd be such a bad thing, would it?" I snapped back, rattling my chains. "Surely, an oppressive, violent regime headed by a homicidal, power-hungry family can only be a good thing, right?"

"We're just trying to share our culture and success with the rest of the world," Shun replied defensively, looking a little hurt.

"They're still spouting that crap?" I asked, astounded. The Fire Nation had been touting their war as a righteous concept for decades. Obviously, some things never changed. "Shun, that's all just a sham; surely you can see that, right?" I fixed him with a flat stare. "I was there when they took my village. I can remember how your self-righteous nation slaughtered innocents, even a whole race of benders! I see their faces every time I close my eyes," I finished quietly, looking away shamefully. Even a lifetime couldn't scrub the memory from my mind, and I hated myself for being so weak, for not being able to save them, for having to hold back tears every time I thought of them.

Shun said nothing; for once, I couldn't read him. "Enough," I grumbled hoarsely, sniffing a little. "Don't you have a poopdeck to swab or something?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry for what my people have done, Dao," he apologized quietly. "But don't lump me in with them. Ultimately, I serve the Fire Lord, yet I've been a friend to you ever since Zuko brought you aboard his ship in chains," he reminded me, a touch indignant, before turning and walking away, the door squealing shut behind him before I could call him back.

I slapped myself on the forehead, sending lightning bolts dancing through my brain. "Idiot," I growled aloud at myself. 'You can't keep your mouth shut just once, can you?' I should've just saved it for Zhao, as he was no doubt coming to visit me once he heard I was awake.

Surprisingly, though, I was wrong.

We sailed for weeks, only stopping every now and then to resupply. I was never brought onto the deck, or even out of my cell. My meals were a little more frequent, but lacking in nutrients and taste; more than once, I fervently mourned the loss of General Iroh's hand-picked shipboard cooks.

Thankfully, as a seasoned prisoner, I was adept at entertaining myself. To pass the time, I'd sing or remember the lessons of men I'd shared a cell with over the long years. With my newfound freedom of movement, I could move through a series of poses that were supposed to promote strength and focus; plus, since everyone probably knew I was a bender already, I indulged my firebending as well. I devoted most of my attention to a technique I'd picked up from a man with barely three teeth in his head that focused on bending with as little movement as possible, seeing as I didn't usually have much.

I meditated as well, but I was well out of practice, and it usually took me nearly an hour or more to calm my mind enough to where I could shut off my senses and emotions one by one. Often, I didn't get past the first or second sense, but I kept at it. Whenever I was feeling particularly hopeful or depressed, I'd try summoning my spirit, but was never able to change anything more than my eyes, and then only rarely. The pupils would become slits, and they'd change color from amber to orange and red; I'd hold it for a few seconds, feeling my spirit side taking over and reveling in the power it brought. But then it'd fade away, and I'd pound the side of my cell in frustration.

Occasionally, Zhao's younger soldiers would come down to see me in groups of two or three, wanting to get a look at the hybrid freak that their commander had brought aboard. One or two turned out to be decent people, and I'd talk mostly to them, always inviting them back and religiously avoiding the topic of the Fire Nation. For the most part, though, Zhao's men were as arrogant and cruel as Zhao himself, teasing and berating me. I'd heard it all before, of course, and their words rolled off like water off a turtle-duck's back.

What hurt most of all was Shun's attitude toward me. Whenever he came to my cell, he seemed distant and cold. I tried my best to draw him out of his black mood, but he was always preoccupied, or he ignored my questions and finished his tasks as quickly as possible before leaving in a huff. I could only assume that I'd insulted him with my slurs against the Fire Nation. The fact that I was right only served to make him angrier, it seemed.

Finally, most surprising (and perhaps disturbing) of all, I found myself missing my conversations with Zuko and Iroh. The old man had been great company, always ready to listen to my complaints and problems and offer advice. But Zuko had only ever descended to the prison hold either to tell me how worthless and freakish I was or to rant and rave at me until he was blue in the face. Still, it had been something; whether I liked it or not, I'd gotten to know Zuko, his fears and hurts, his likes and dislikes, almost everything. For some reason, I missed him; no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that I'd abandoned him, that I'd let him down somehow.

Finally, after nearly two weeks of sailing, Commander Zhao decided to come and see me. He stood a foot from the bars, hands clasped behind his back, and just stared at me. I stood up and positioned myself similarly, staring right back at him and daring him to speak first. We stood there staring at each other like idiots for almost five minutes before he smirked and said, "So, after two years aboard the prince's ship, you're still an insolent, disrespectful boy." He pulled at one of his mutton chops thoughtfully. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though. Zuko is the same way."

"You leave him out of this," I growled. "This is between you and me, Commander. What do you want?"

"Want?" He gave a rough chuckle. "What I want is for you to tell me everything about yourself. Then I want you to lead me to the Avatar so I can capture him. Then I want to be remembered in the histories of the Fire Nation as the greatest firebender that ever lived!"

"So pretty much what every other firebender wants, right?" I replied, sounding bored.

His face tightened, but his voice remained cordial. "I suppose so. The difference is, I'm actually going to accomplish it," he promised fiercely. "Now, who and what are you?"

I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. "I'm just a young, innocent little boy that wants to go home, Commander Zhao. Is that so much to ask?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy," he threatened, his eyes flaring in the torchlight. "I'm not always so nice."

I rolled my eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" I looked him dead in the face, letting him see the honesty of my words. "If you want to know my story, too damn bad. I'm not telling you a thing."

"We already know you're a firebender," Zhao cajoled. He was trying to look calm and thoughtful, as if he'd ignored my words, but his face just wasn't built for it. Realizing that he wasn't going to pull off the "good cop" façade, he resorted to glaring at me. "Not talking isn't going to be good for your health."

"Neither is sitting chained in the belly of your warship," I shot back. "I'll take my chances."

Zhao bared his teeth, all composure suddenly gone, and the torches flared up in their sconces. "I'll teach you to defy me, brat!" He thrust out an arm toward the nearest torch, and its flame suddenly jumped into his outstretched hand. I braced myself, but the blow never came.

"Sir!" A new voice called down the hall. Zhao closed his hand, smothering the flame instantly. "What have I said about interrupting me, Lieutenant?" he thundered, his voice bouncing off the metal walls and echoing a thousand times, probably scaring the poor lieutenant out of his wits.

"Sir," the lieutenant called again, a tremor clearly evident in his voice, "it's about the Avatar."

Commander Zhao drew a deep breath, wiping the mask of rage from his face. "This isn't over," he hissed. Then he straightened the red sash across his chest and strode purposefully away.

'Well, that could have been worse.' I tried to relax, using some of my breathing exercises to calm down. I'd seen Zhao's type before, but never as a commander. 'Either he's got some powerful friends or he's a seriously talented bender. Or both.' There was really no other way to rise through the Fire Nation ranks. From what I'd heard from General Iroh, promotion used to be based on merit and skill alone; a man could only further himself if he worked hard and was good at his job. Nowadays, he said, he was seeing more and more of the "good ol' boy" system: officers promoting their friends instead of someone more suited for the job. Being good with fire didn't hurt, either.

Still, he didn't scare me. Zhao's attitude was common among jailors: arrogant, violent, and fickle, with a need to prove oneself as a badass. They acted like they owned the world because they wished they did. That didn't mean it was an act, though; I'd seen men beaten and tortured for looking at a guard the wrong way. I had no doubt in my mind that, if I didn't give Zhao what he wanted, and soon, he'd quickly resort to more violent methods of persuasion. As the personal prisoner of the Fire Lord, I was as much a trophy as a captive; being such, I was never allowed to look too haggard. My jailors hadn't been allowed to mark me, so they'd had to get creative; I may not have had the scars to prove it, but I was no stranger to torture and abuse.

I gritted my teeth. 'Let him try to break me.'

"Dao, wake up."

I blinked the sleep from my eyes, rolling up onto the balls of my feet and slowly standing. "What's going on?" I asked blearily, not quite registering who it was.

A plate of food slid under the bars, and I knew it could only be Shun. "Hurry up and eat," he said brusquely. I gave him an odd look as I picked up my plate and began eating. I tried to ask him what was going on, but he waved my questions away like annoying flies. "Shush," he said harshly, "and just listen for once."

The comment rankled with me, but I swallowed my pride, swallowed my food, and settled in to listen. "I'm only telling you this because we're friends. First of all, you're an idiot for antagonizing Commander Zhao. You'd probably be dead already if he didn't think you were useful."

"So we are still friends?"

"Shut up!" He fixed me with a stern look. "He's mad enough already; we've been zigzagging all over the damn place trying to follow the Avatar's trail, and we've had absolutely no luck. The kid's some sort of evasive genius, apparently." Shun shook his head in disbelief. "You should see the navigation maps; they're a total mess. Anyway, some of Zhao's men finally brought back real news on his whereabouts."

"And where is he?" I demanded, leaning forward eagerly.

"It turns out he's on Kyoshi, a mountainous island some miles off the coast. It's been overlooked so far because it doesn't have any strategic or economic value; it's just too far out of the way." Shun shrugged. "Looks like that's over now, though. Last time I saw him, Zhao was threatening to raze the whole island for hiding the Avatar."

"That's crazy!" I spluttered. "You can't burn an entire island to the ground because a fugitive decided to land there!"

"Zhao seems to think otherwise. Lucky for you, you've got a chance to change his mind." Before I could ask what be meant, he turned and called down the hall, bringing four other guards trotting down the hall with spears at the ready; one of them was a man named Shang that came to talk to me every so often, and I was happy to see him. Revealing a key and opening my cell, Shun explained, "He wants to see you as soon as possible. Best behavior."

It was quite an experience, being escorted from point A to point B without a bag on my head; instead of being draped in chains, my hands were cuffed in front of me, while my feet were free. Red lanterns were placed at regular intervals throughout the long metal corridors and staircases that ran through the ship like tunnels in an anthill. Thick rivets and bolts held thicker pipes together on the ceiling overhead; some pipes branched off regularly into rooms, while others ran uninterrupted for as far as the eye could see. Pairs of soldiers patrolled the halls regularly, often chatting to one another. Every so often, we'd see a firebender stroll past, an aura of self-importance and superiority palpable even through their infamous full-face skull helms.

"Most of these guys are Army regulars," I observed off-handedly. "Where's all the Fire Navy stooges? Who actually runs the ship?"

"Quiet, prisoner," a guard snarled, giving me a shove. "The only stooge on the ship is you!"

Shun gave him a fiery look. "Enough," he said sharply. "Private, a word?" Shun lead the unfortunate guard a few feet away. The man clasped his hands rigidly behind his back and listened as Shun talked in a low voice for almost a full minute. When he was done, the man nodded vigorously. Shun clapped a hand on his shoulder, making the man smile, then steered him back toward our little group.

That's when I noticed the small gold pin on my friend's collar that the other men lacked, and my mouth nearly dropped open. 'Shun got promoted!' Immediately, I was suspicious; 'Zhao's the only one who could have taken Shun from Private First Class straight to Corporal. What's the bastard up to?' Still, I was happy for Shun, and I vowed to congratulate him when we got a private moment, as well as thank him for his quick jump to my defense.

"As for your question, Dao," Shun spoke up as he came back and motioned us onwards, "most of the sailors are engineers; they usually keep to the lower decks of the ship. No one hardly sees them unless something is going wrong."

"Makes sense," I admitted. "What's with all the red light? Don't get me wrong, I like war as much as the next guy. But really?"

"It's not a symbol of war," Shun corrected, rolling his eyes, "it's to preserve low-light vision below decks."

"So we don't bump into things if we walk into a really dark room," one of my escorting soldiers offered hesitantly, and I saw Shun give him a slight but approving nod.

I made sure to thank the man who'd spoken; he gave me a half-awkward, half-sincere smile, as if he didn't quite know how to look at me. Shun quickly introduced me to the soldiers, and we made the rest of the long trip through the huge ship in silence. It took almost five minutes just to make it to the deck; from there, we headed straight into the command tower and climbed all the way to the bridge. Altogether, the whole trip took upwards of fifteen minutes.

"How is everyone not late to meetings around here?" I muttered to Re-Lin, an older man with a neat mustache and goatee. He chuckled quietly. "Lots of practice," he said in a soft, easy voice. "It takes almost twenty minutes to get from the forward ramp to the engine room, and nearly as long from the bridge to the bottom coal cells."

We stepped onto the bridge. At the front of the room, the helmsman stood solidly in front of the wheel, occasionally tapping a nearby compass. Most of the rest of the bridge was taken up by a massive table set with a blown-up map of the southern hemisphere; tiny flags and insignias littered the map, with the majority in a half-circle around the Fire Nation. The captain and several officers were lined up on either side of the table.

The captain frowned at our intrusion. "Corporal, what is the meaning of this interruption?"

Shun threw him a sharp salute, then replied calmly, "I was ordered to gather a detail and escort the prisoner to the bridge."

The captain nodded, as if he'd expected this sooner or later. "Very well. You can wait with the rest of us for Commander Zhao. Apparently, he's decided on a course of action based on the intelligence we were brought this afternoon."

"I have, Captain."

Commander Zhao strode onto the bridge like a would-be conqueror (which, I reflected, he actually was). "On deck!" a lieutenant cried, and everyone but me snapped to attention while the captain gave a quick salute. Zhao turned to Shun and ordered, "Dismiss the detail, Corporal. I doubt there's much of a need for them here."

Shun dismissed his men while Zhao made his way to the head of the map table. "I'm glad you're here, Dao," he began.

"Well that makes one of us."

Shun gave me a quick warning look that Zhao thankfully missed. As it was, though, Zhao surprisingly kept his cool. "Insolence will get you nowhere," he said mildly. "As I'm sure you know by now, the Avatar is hiding on Kyoshi Island. We're heading that way now." Zhao made his way around the table toward me, hands clasped behind his back as always.

"I have a proposition for you," Zhao continued, "a chance to prove where your loyalties lie." He came over to me, stopped within a step, and stared down at me. Up close, his expression was impassive and subdued, but just as dangerous. If he was trying to intimidate me, though, it wasn't going to work.

"Lucky me," I sniped. "What'll it be, Commander? Shall I swab your decks? Or perhaps polish your boots?"

"Nothing so grand as that," he replied, totally serious. "Seeing as how all of our previous stops have been such disappointments, I've decided to send a small 'diplomatic' team ashore to ascertain whether or not the Avatar is hiding there, if he was ever on the island at all." He swept away towards the table again, talking over his shoulder. "You and Corporal Shun are part of that team. If you can behave yourself," he said with a sly grin, "then perhaps I'll consider giving you a bit more freedom."

I looked at Shun, who nodded vigorously; clearly, there was more at stake here than just a few more privileges for me, though what it was I couldn't guess. I took a few moments to mull it over, more to see if Zhao's patience would hold up than anything else, then stated, "Let me get this straight. You're sending me, Shun, and a small army onto the island to see if the Avatar is there, not to burn the place to the ground looking for him. Is that right?"

"Well, a few well-placed burnings here or there might make the locals more talkative," Zhao suggested casually, "but yes, that's correct."

I weighed it, though it didn't take long. Going ashore was really the only option here, not only because it presented a prime opportunity to escape, but also because the visit might give me a clue as to where Aang might have gone, if indeed he'd been to the island. I opened my mouth to give my answer.

Then again…

A thought occurred to me, and I closed my mouth, my brow furrowing as I thought. If I said yes, no matter what my own reasons were, I was still doing exactly what Zhao wanted; if I went onto the island, I was playing right into his hands. And if there was anything I was sure of, it was that doing what Zhao wanted was a mistake.

"No," I said clearly. "No deal."

I wish I could say that Zhao did a classic double-take. I wish I could say that his jaw, defying all the laws of anatomy and physics, dropped all the way to the floor. While I'm wishing, I might as well wish I could say that all my chains and cuffs and bindings fell to the ground, and that I grew wings and flew away to who knows where. Sadly, I can say none of these things.

What I can say is that Zhao, predictably, grew furious when I refused his "generous" offer.

"How dare you deny me!" he steamed, his mutton chops fairly quivering with rage. "Corporal Shun, take this worthless piece of filth back to his cell and throw away the damn key!" Spittle flew from his lips as he continued to shout and curse. I swear I could still hear him when we left the command tower and went below decks; I couldn't help the smug smile that spread across my face.

"That was the stupidest thing you've done since I've known you!" hissed Shun in disbelief as he pulled me through the corridors back to my cell, Re-Lin and Shang close behind.

"To be completely fair, you've only known me for two years," I reminded him. "I've done a lot of stupid things, believe it or not."

"I'm serious, Dao; this isn't a joke." We arrived at my cell, and Shun dismissed Re-Lin and Shang. The two men left in a hurry, but not before Re-Lin threw a quick look of concern over his shoulder, perhaps sensing the argument to come.

"Shun, if I'd gone onto that island, I would've done exactly what Zhao wanted," I explained to him.

"That's my point!" exclaimed Shun. He started chaining me up to the wall again. "Doing what Zhao wants is the best thing for us right now!"

I recoiled from him, and he paused, not used to me resisting him. "Do you even hear yourself?" I demanded. "Commander Zhao may have put me under reduced security, I might get more food, and he might put friendly guards around me, but I'm still his prisoner!" I raged. "And make no mistake, he's only doing it because he thinks it'll get him what he wants!"

"Then why make yourself miserable?" Shun countered, putting his hands on his hips. "Why piss off the most powerful man on the ship?"

"It's not about pissing him off," I sighed, slumping to the floor and holding up my hand so he could resume securing me. "Though I will admit, it does give me a certain amount of satisfaction when I see him get so mad that his topknot starts coming loose."

"What's it about then, Dao?"

"It's about sending him a message. It's about making sure he knows that I'm nobody's puppet, least of all his. He may have had prisoners in the past that were happy to dance to his tune, but I'm not," I said, slicing a manacled hand through the air for emphasis. "I'm better than that; I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hanging on to his fake words and empty promises. And I'll be dead before I'll help him get to Aang," I swore, my face twisting in anger at the mere thought of Zhao getting his power-hungry paws on the Avatar.

"Dao, forget your pride for a second," Shun begged, changing tack. "I've talked to the crew; I've heard the stories. Zhao always gets what he wants, doubly so now that he's a commander. He'll do whatever he has to in order to get your help, willing or not."

"And that's another thing!" I shouted suddenly, picking up on a choice few of Shun's words. "Why does everyone think I'm the key to finding the Avatar?"

"You're his decoy. You know him better than anyone. Plus, you're both Air Nomads," Shun offered. "There's barely anyone left alive from when the Avatar disappeared, and none of them ever met him."

"So what?" I demanded. "It's not like I've got some internal compass that always points toward the Avatar! Yes, I'm an Air Nomad. Yes, I look like Aang. Yes, I'm half spirit. But does any of that mean I automatically know where he sleeps every night?" I shook my head.

"Dao, please, just play along! If you help him enough, maybe he'll let you go!"

"Are you seriously suggesting that if I help Zhao kill or capture Aang, that he'll magically just let me go free as soon as the job is done?!" I demanded. "Damn it, use your head!"

"No, I'm suggesting that you're being awfully hard on the commander!" shot back Shun. When I shook my head again, he admonished, "Quit shaking your head at me, Dao. Stop focusing on the negative for once and consider all the things Commander Zhao has done for us!" When I remained silent, he continued.

"First of all, he got us off the ship of a banished prince and possible traitor, where we had no hope of really moving up or forward in our lives. Then he gives you the most comfortable cell he can manage, where you can finally move around, and puts your only friend in the world in charge of you. Then he promotes me two ranks at once so I can make sure that most of the crew doesn't give you any shit. Finally, he gives you a perfect opportunity to see the outside world again, to get off the ship, let alone out of your cell. But what do you do?!" Shun threw up his hands in exasperation. "You practically spit in his face! You've done nothing but condemn the man when all he's done is show you kindness."

I leapt forward, straining my chains to the limit as I shoved my face as close to the bars as I could. Shun jumped back, and I swore I saw his hand twitched toward his sword before it dropped back to his side. "Look at me! I'm still a prisoner!" I snarled through clenched teeth. Backing away, I rattled my chains furiously. "Does this look like kindness to you? Is this kindness, now?"

Shun just shook his head at me. "You're blind, Dao. You've been a prisoner for too long," he told me sadly.

"On that last bit, at least, we can agree," I said heatedly.

Down the hall, the door opened with a tortured shriek. "Corporal Shun!" a familiar voice snapped. Zhao stormed down the hallway, not bothering to return Shun's salute. "You're part of the landing party. Or am I mistaken?" he snarled.

Shun turned ghost-white and high-tailed it out of there (not that I really blame him), leaving me alone with a very angry wolverine of a man.

"What makes you think you can deny me in front of my own crew?" Zhao demanded, his face red as a beet.

"Maybe the fact that I've got nothing to lose?" I offered. "I'm already a prisoner; I've been a prisoner since before you were barely a twinkling in your worthless mother's eye, Zhao," I said scathingly, my eyebrows lowering into a dangerous V as Zhao turned a shade redder, his teeth bared in anger. "There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done."

The only warning I got was a flash of fire dancing across Zhao's fingertips. After that, there was just the searing ball shooting through the bars. I twisted at the last second and lit my own fist, barely beating the ball aside to disperse against the wall. Without thinking, I fired back. It was a paltry flame compared to Zhao's, but he was too surprised to avoid it, and was reduced to frantically beating out the small blaze that had caught in his now-charred sash.

He glared at me with barely contained animalistic rage. "This isn't over," he promised with a snarl. Then he swept away, slamming the prison hold door with an almighty bang.

I called, "That's what you said last time!" I waited until I was sure that he was gone; I may have been stupid, but I wasn't suicidal, at least not by my standards. Frowning, I sat down and got comfortable on the cold floor as best I could, settling down to reflect on everything that had happened. I must have unconsciously slipped into a series of breathing exercises as I did, because the torches outside began flaring and dimming with the slow, steady rhythm of my lungs.

Deranged as Zhao was, he was nevertheless true to his word, in a roundabout way. For the three days it took Shun and his comrades to return, I was confined to my cell with no food and a thimbleful of water daily. By the time Shun returned and came to visit with a platter of food and a full flagon, I was half-dead and trying my best to meditate over the near-constant sound of my growling stomach.

"Shun! Thank the spirits," I rasped, reaching eagerly for the flagon and downing it in four gigantic gulps. As he gave a tense laugh, I snatched up a sandwich and began devouring it.

"Easy there, kid," he scolded. "You act like you haven't been fed since I left."

I forced myself to spare half a second to give him a look that suggested he'd just grown another head and perhaps an extra arm or two before continuing to stuff my face. "I haven't," I grumbled around a mouthful of something that tasted vaguely of fish.

He gave me a strange look, but I was too busy stuffing my face with delirious happiness to tell him what had happened. "You should have come to Kyoshi with us; it would have been good to be out of your cell." I rolled my eyes at him, but he wasn't paying any attention. "Still, there wasn't much left to enjoy. We found the main village in ruins; houses burned down, scorch marks everywhere, injured villagers by the dozen. Some shops were still smoking." Shun paused, remembering as I gaped at him. "We had to wait a day or so for the village elder to come back. He'd been out gathering men to help repair the houses Zuko's men destroyed."

I nearly choked in my shock. "So Aang had been there!" I exclaimed. "That's the only reason Zuko would have for going there, let alone burning down a village."

Shun nodded. "There was no mistaking the elder's description of Zuko: black ponytail, ever-present pride, and a giant red scar on one side of his face. But he said he didn't know anything about a bald monk boy with blue arrow tattoos."

"So why would Zuko burn down the old man's village if he wasn't hiding Aang?"

Shun shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'd say he probably did it out of sheer frustration."

I frowned and picked at my wrist manacles thoughtfully. "Maybe…" I said. That didn't sound like the former prince, though; he might be a frustrated teen, but he wasn't that cold-hearted, was he? "Find anything else?"

"No. We interrogated their warrior women as well, but most of them were either injured or too busy to talk. After that, the elder insisted we stay for a night and enjoy what hospitality they could offer, though he didn't look happy about it. Tensions were high, but when aren't they?"

I nodded in agreement. "So what's Zhao's plan now?" I asked, flicking a small flame idly between my fingers.

"I'm glad you asked."

Zhao appeared as if from nowhere, a group of guards in tow; I took a moment to curse whoever had thought to oil the hold door's hinges. "Seize him," commanded Zhao, sounding almost bored. Shun tried to draw his sword, but two brawny men got there first, taking his arms in a vice-like grip and wrenching them behind his back. As I stood there, yelling helplessly for them to stop, Shun was roughly chained hand and foot, with an oily rag stuffed in his mouth and a filthy cloth over his head.

"You let him go, you bastard! RIGHT NOW!" I howled, lunging forward on instinct, my eyes blazing as they changed. Suddenly, Zhao found himself staring down the barrels of my slit-pupiled eyes, all trace of my humanity gone as tongues of flame flickered and spat like angry snakes where my manacles chafed my skin. A searing itch started up between my shoulder blades, but I was far too angry to notice.

Quick as a whip, Commander Zhao shoved his men aside and darted behind Shun, seizing him around the throat with one thick arm. With two fingers, he conjured a small blade of flame on his other hand that roared like a blacksmith's furnace. "Move again and I'll kill him!" Zhao bellowed, looking me right in my orange-red eyes so I'd know he meant it. Shun struggled a little, and Zhao hissed, "The same goes for you, Corporal." Shun froze.

"I thought hard about what you said, boy," Zhao informed me, his flame never more than a few inches from Shun's exposed neck. "And while you have nothing to lose, the unfortunate corporal here most certainly does!" He bared his teeth in a savage grimace. "You claim to be no stranger to torture, and I believe you. But how do you think your poor friend here will fare?"

I let out a long, slow breath, and was faintly surprised when a stream of angry red flames didn't come spewing out with it. "Let him go, Commander; he's got nothing to do with it. This is between me and you," I persuaded, my slit eyes still burning fit to melt steel, a counterpoint to the falsely-placating tone of my voice.

"No, this is between me and my destiny," spat Zhao, "and you both are in my way. There's one way the corporal comes out of this with his life: you do exactly as I say for the duration of your stay."

"Not a chance!" I snarled, desperately trying to think of another way out.

Zhao's eyes narrowed, as if he'd expected those exact words. He suddenly thrust Shun at his men. "Take him topside and give him to the bosun. Tell him to take his time," Zhao added, looking me straight in the face and smiling cruelly.

"NO!" I bellowed as they dragged him away. As suddenly as it had hit me, my furious anger drained away, and desperate fear took its place: fear for Shun.

"I challenge you to an Agni Kai!"

Commander Zhao stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to regard me, his twisted amber eyes boring into my now-human ones. "If you win, I'll cooperate; I'll help you find the Avatar however I can. Whatever it takes," I babbled before pausing for breath and effect. "But if I win, you let Shun go, free and clear, and swear not to touch him or threaten him again," I stated.

Zhao stalked back toward me, coming so close to the bars that the tips of his mutton chops poked through; our faces were inches apart. "On what grounds?" he growled.

"I'm a firebender, same as you," I said bravely, determination replacing some of my fear. "By Fire Nation custom, any firebender can challenge any fellow firebender. I challenge you."

Zhao mulled it over. There was no manic grin or arrogant smirk, no anger or rage. His was the grim face of a man supremely confident of winning.

"I accept."