Chapter 1: Purpose

I stood there in rapture, watching the bison fly into the distance. I snap out of my reverie and hold a finger in the air. The wind was blowing East. That's where they're headed and as luck would have, so was I. Having traveled this particular terrain many times, I knew the trails. Mountains are my favorite landscape to scout. It's grandeur and beauty never failing to astound me.

With a deep breath I pull up my pack and begin a steady run after the shrinking blob in the distance. Speed is an asset all my people are gifted with, as well as strength. I know I can keep this pace up for a good hour before I rest. My feet pounding against the bone dry land, I pass through areas of forest, tumbling faster and faster down slopes and drops. Eventually, I come to flat ground and slow my speed. Negotiating the rough ground I leap and twirl into the air and land in the branches of the pine trees. Hopping from trunk to trunk, I feel as powerful and free as a bird. My limbs easily absorbing the shock and strain of my movements. Faster and faster I go, gaining a few cuts to my face as I plummet through the foliage.

I erupt like an angry cat into a clearing, skidding to halt on my heels. "Great, I've lost them" I said to myself. Scanning the skies, I see nothing but a clear horizon. When suddenly I hear the splashing of water accompanied by laughter and yelling.

Instinctively falling into fighting stance, pulling out my bow and arrow and listen to the sounds on the breeze. Intrigued, I follow them.

"That enough practicing for today" I hear a girls voice say, tinged with restrained anger.

"Yeah, I'll say" I hear a boys voice reply, "You just practiced our supplies down the river."

I smile to myself. Perfect now they'll have to stop and a reload. The only village near here is the one I originally intended to stop in. Now I was sure I would be able to approach them and offer my help.

I creep closer to the forest edge and peer over a rock. In the river basks the huge bison, with air nomad markings. Next to him, stands a bemused boy soaked in water. He has traditional water tribe colouring, with tan skin, dark hair and blue eyes. This must be one of Kanna's grandchildren, I thought to myself. Over to his right stood, who I presumed to be the other. A tall, slender girl with the same features as her brother and a startling pretty face, which at that moment was pulled into a tight, bitter expression. There was strength in that face also, I could see, as well as suffering in her eyes. I know those eyes, I see them staring back at me whenever I catch sight of my reflection. They only come from losing someone you love.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of orange and yellow. Moving around the rock, I catch my first glimpse of the legendary Avatar. He was not much to look at, but I knew he'd be young. A small boy of around twelve, with a cheerful and friendly face. On his shoulder perched a winged lemur. Like the girl, he had a strong presence about him. He moved with confidence and grace. I knew then that he was a great air bender.

I move away from the group, not wanting to startle them and sit cross legged, waiting for them to move out. I then stood and pulled a green ragged scarf out of my pack and pull my hair back into it. There's so much of it, it takes me awhile to make sure it's all tucked in. I then wrap a shawl over my shoulder, and sling my pack over my shoulder along with my quiver and bow. I then begin my walk towards the village nestled down the ridge, where I could see the bison beginning it's descent.

Zuko's POV.

Fire. Zuko could feel it inside his body, in his mind, but more importantly spiraling out of his hands towards his opponent. He enjoyed the power he wielded, his muscled rippling with effort and not even breaking a sweat.

His desire to constantly train was a grueling toll on his crew. He knew this, but barely cared. They didn't understand his burden. How the face of his father haunted his dreams. The jeer of the crowds, the day he earned his scar. Ever since that faithful day he carried this tightness in his chest, a ever present fury, frustration and shame, which clouded everything. The world no longer held much joy for him, just a taut, straining thread which he felt pulling him along, controlling his fate. It was his duty to his father to prove himself, to regain his honour and throne. This was what tied him to his mission, this was why he refused to give up.

So when his vessel veered suddenly of course, throwing him and his opponent against the side of his ship, he felt a cold sure of anger.

"Someone's changing our course," he growled, clearly annoyed.

He marched swiftly with purpose towards the stairs to the control room, his steps clanging loudly against the metal of the ship. Clenching his fists, he burst through the door.

"What's the meaning of this mutiny?!" he spat at the man at the wheel, "No one told you to change course!" . The candles in the room flare with his words and cause terrible shadows to play on Zuko's face, highlighting the darkness around his left eye.

The man clearly terrified, looks in desperation towards the men at the other side of the room, calmly playing a game of pai sho.

A elderly man, looks up calmly into Zuko's face and with a complacent smile says "Actually someone did" sliding a piece onto the playing board.

"I assure you it is a matter of utmost importance, Prince Zuko" he continues, stroking his beard.

Zuko's eyes blare into Iroh's. "Is it something to do with the Avatar?" he presses.

"Even more urgent…It seems I…I've lost my lotus tile" a look of despair crosses Iroh's face as he looks back to his game.

"Lotus tile?" Zuko asks in confusion, "You've changed our course for a stupid lotus tile?" his anger now palpable on his face.

"Just let me check the merchants at this point of call" Iroh seemingly having not noticed his nephews rising inferno. "Hopefully, they have the lotus tile in stock and I can get on with my life".

Zuko could no longer control himself. Clenching his fists harder now, his breathing escalates and without warning fire spews out of his mouth against the metal ceiling, causing it blacken.

Smoke envelopes Iroh and Zuko turns on his heel. Storming out of the room, he bangs down the stairs, deeper and deeper until he comes to the living quarters. Coming to his room, he throws open the door and slams it behind him.

A yell of frustration escapes his lips, as he paces around the room, attempting to calm his nerves. Finding no relief, he spins and punches the nearest wall. To his surprise it leaves a fist shaped dent. He stands there staring blankly at the cavity, until he sinks to the floor.

As the sun sets, the last beams of light shine against a small painting propped up on a chest across from Zuko's motionless form. With the ringing of the dinner gong, he rises smoothly and brushes down his tunic. Turning towards the door, he notices the painting gleaming in the corner.

The face of his mother shines as he walks towards her. The paint once bright is now faded and slightly mottled with Zuko's constant handling of it over the years. The kindness in her eyes, at last lightens Zuko's black mood. Stroking her image, he presses his fingers to his lips and then places his hand on his heart.