Jet collapsed onto his hammock with a sigh as he stared up at the ceiling and gently pushed his foot off of the floor so as to set his makeshift bed into a lulling motion. It had certainly been a long-ass day, and there was a lot to take in. He still had a hard time believing everything the girl, Song, had said. Though, the more reasonable part of him supposed that he didn't actually have any valid reasons to doubt her, save for the fact that she was from the Fire Nation... But then again, she and her father were on the run, and apparently the old man was a military officer before they fled their homeland...

The rogue teenager groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. There were too many conflicting whys and wherefores that were trying to pull him in the directions of believing her and not believing her. It hadn't seemed like she was lying... And why would she have a reason to, anyway? He honestly and begrudgingly could not think of any excuse a girl and her father could have to come traipsing all the way across the ocean and into his forest other than what she had told him. So she must have been telling the truth. The Fire Lord really was planning another invasion.

But, why? Why would Ozai's son have gone to the trouble of befriending the Avatar if he was just going to use him to take over the world as his father previously planned? It seemed a little... Redundant. He would have ascended to the throne whenever his father died, anyway, so he still would have gotten to rule over the nations.

Probably because he wanted to be the one who became famous for it, Jet thought after he mulled over it for a minute, He let the Avatar get rid of his father first so he wouldn't succeed, and then he took down his own sister so she couldn't steal his idea. What a bloodthirsty, arrogant son of a bitch.

Jet twisted onto his side and yawned as his thoughts drifted back to Song and her father. They really were an odd set of characters, and he couldn't help but feel as though something about them was a bit... Off. The girl seemed friendly enough. Letoh, however, set him a little on edge. The man didn't say much, and typically that wouldn't bother him as he wasn't a fan of Chatty Kathy's, but in this case, it was kind of unnerving. Jet also found it strange that he looked nothing like his daughter.

While Song had thick, pitch-black hair, pale-as-snow skin, and deep, golden eyes, Letoh had thin, wispy, brown hair, suntanned skin, and chocolate brown eyes. If neither had told him that they were related, he wouldn't have ever guessed. But, who was he to judge? For all he knew, she could have taken after her mother.

That was another thing. Where exactly was Song's mother? He doubted that they left her back home. That would have been way too risky. The police would have taken her in for questioning and probably beat the shit out of her until she told them where her husband and daughter went, because the "justice" system in the Fire Nation was most likely that brutal. Song and Letoh didn't seem like the kind of people who would want something like that to happen, if first impressions were anything to go by.

Although, Jet thought gravely, They usually aren't.

His mind wandered back to his first encounter with Aang the Avatar and his little friends, Sokka and Katara. Katara. Now there was an example of a first impression mishap.

He had thought that she wanted to save the world as desperately as he did. He thought she was passionate enough about the greater good to be able to overlook a few minor sacrifices. Well, he was definitely wrong about that. She was too much of a goody-goody- no, too much of a weakling- to be able to accept that when it comes to war, death is always the price of peace. Always.

Now, Song on the other hand... It was probably too early in the game to begin making assumptions of character, but she seemed different. The fact that she wanted to go with her father to free the rebels and actually understood that in order to restore harmony to the world, they'd have to kill a powerful figurehead spoke volumes.

Don't praise her too soon, though, he reminded himself, She may have a pretty face, but it could very well be a mask of deceit.

Jet smirked. Well, if it was a mask of deceit, it sure wasn't hard on the eyes.

Azula lay still as a statue under the scratchy cover of the rickety bed in the treehouse. She felt like pacing, but there were open windows that her "guards" could peek through at any moment ,and a sight such as that might have seemed a bit strange. She really didn't want or need this mangy, rag-tag group of savages to become even more suspicious of her than they already were.

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she hoped that dawn would arrive soon so they could get this show on the road. Granted, Jet had told her he'd give her an answer in the morning, but she was pretty sure that she already knew what he was going to say. Acting was one of her many talents, after all. So was persuasion.

In her attempts to try and force herself to fall asleep so as to pass the time, she found herself vaguely wondering what Jet's talents were. She already knew he was a skilled swordsman and strategist. This much was made obvious by the wall of weapons in his quarters and the fact that he was clever enough to build his village in the high-up treetops. A very smart move, indeed, in the case of a flood or an on-foot militia dead-set on taking them out. But what other abilities were concealed behind those glinting eyes and brazen smile?

He was clearly very fierce and protective. His followers probably meant the world to him, and Azula figured he'd defend them against an army of one thousand, if it came down to it, rather than see them get hurt or killed. A poor choice, if your main priorities included self-preservation, but she supposed that to anyone of sentimental character, an act such as that would seem noble.

Her mouth quirked out of amusement. A quality like that might actually work to her advantage. All she had to do was get him to trust and care about her enough so that he'd be willing to jump in front of her in the face of danger if they came across any combatal skirmishes during their quest.

A sudden, dark appreciation for the Earth Kingdom rebel swept over her as she began to slip away from consciousness.

Oh, yes. Jet would prove to be very useful, indeed.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the gap between this chapter and the last. I actually just got back from the beach yesterday, and was there a whole week, so there was no way I could update. But, on the bright side, I now have up to chapter eight written so that's a plus! :) Major thanks to those of you who have reviewed, and if you haven't yet, please do. Even if you don't have an account, you can still submit anonymously. Part of what fuels an author's desire to write is knowing that others enjoy and appreciate the product! Constructive criticism is also welcomed. I'd actually really like your opinions on a few things, such as character development, and whether or not you think the story is moving too fast or slow. These are the main things I worry about, so please be specific! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as short as it was, and the next few should be out this week. Au revoir! :)