No Promise of Summer
Zuko had always been a vivid dreamer, and his "trip" to the Southern Water Tribe didn't change it. He dreamed of ice slowly spreading over his body, starting at his toes. The ice looked fragile enough, but as he struggled, it only pressed down harder and refused to melt. As it began to coat his mouth and nose, his eyes frantically darted around, landing on the girl, a smirk on her face that reminded him eerily of Azula. She brought her hands down and spoke in a snarl, "It will be too cold for you in the South, Prince Zuko."
He thankfully woke up just before the Waterbender killed him and hurriedly sat up. Still used to seeing red and black and metal, he shook his head and sighed only frigid white and occasional traces of blue flitted in his vision. Get used to it. You're stuck here.
He pulled on his parka—really, it was a hand-me-down from the girl's brother, since none of the Tribe would part with their husband's, brother's, or son's clothing. It was a little tight on him, but the biggest annoyance was the boy whining about having to share clothes with a Firebender.
"Get up. We have more chores to do," the girl peeked her head in again.
Zuko found that the more he worked, the more his mind did, too.
Well, it wandered, really—like a trained Komodo rhino released into the wilderness, confused but slowly learning the ropes of survival. He did his chores without complaint. Prince Zuko would have liked to think he was pulling the enemy into a false sense of security or testing his uncle's battle strategy of "quiet observance." But really, he was pulling up questions and answering them.
The biggest was, of course, how to escape. It would be simple. There were no warriors, except for that pitiful Water Tribe boy with his weapons that were handled more like toys in his clumsy hands or the untrained Waterbender who still looked amazed if she managed to hold up a water sphere for more than five seconds. They had caught him by surprise, true, but he wouldn't allow it again. He'd sneak out during the night out of his small tent—club his guard over the head or jab a pressure point—and run for it. They had no advanced security, no alarm, nothing.
But if he did manage—where would he go? There was nothing but open tundra for miles and the wide sea for more. He could steal a canoe and a few choice supplies—the latter, carefully, over the course of a few weeks. Zuko didn't know how to paddle a Water Tribe canoe, and he was worried his physical strength was finishing day after day of doing nothing but domestic chores. He knew nothing about catching fish—but how hard could it be? Didn't you just bait a hook and wait? But even though he had laughed at the boy for being an incompetent oaf when he came back with little to no fishing (if the girl went with him, there was a little more), there was something inside that admitted it wasn't all it took.
It would be easy enough to find his uncle and crew—a few questions about the Dragon of the West and an old Fire Navy ship—but there was always something. Zuko knew his luck wasn't that easy.
The thought of escaping was growing and growing. It was a definite possibility. He could do it. But he needed more planning.
That didn't stop him from pocketing a spare fish hook left on the table.
Zuko also realized his Firebending needed work. He used Firebending for hearing himself up to withstand the cold—"Cold?" the girl always laughed. "It's not even winter yet! Wait until the blizzards!"—and subtly through drying the clothes and dishes. But he needed Firebending practice—something to release his energy.
He stole a candle or two—made out of seal-whale blubber—to practice his meditation in his tent, but he needed more. Zuko was trying to keep his meditation secret, even though the reflection of constant rising and falling light through his tent was raising a few questions. He couldn't ask for practice—they still didn't trust him not to melt down their precious ice houses or char their children. The fact that he was instructed to stay inside and do women's work with the girl was proof enough.
The girl—somehow her face formed in his mind. Could she be useful? The girl wanted to learn Waterbending, and she never will properly. The elders tried to tell and sometimes show her other moves their Waterbending ancestors did, but the girl was swamped in chores and unsuccessful attempts. Unless a Waterbending master suddenly arrived in the dreary village, or she made it to the North Pole without being captured, robbed, sold, killed, or detected, she was never going to reach full potential. The girl didn't even know how to heal or create ice with proper control. There was no way—
Zuko chuckled to himself as he finished the last batch of clothes. Even if he was stuck in the South Pole forever—and if he ever got out to practice—he'd be luckier than the girl. He knew bending forms, control exercises, how the advanced forms looked, meditation, and more. The girl had nothing...unless he told her.
He wasn't a Waterbender, but he knew he could manage.
Now to convince the girl...
