Three Families Chapter 11: The Prisoner, an avatar: last airbender fanfic

For the record: Azula is not WoF Azula. She is 3F Azula. Different people with different issues. One is not going to become the other. That would just be sloppy writing.

He was smiling at her. She wanted to break his face. "I'm surprised you haven't concocted a way to prevent my bending," Azula said, rubbing the wrists where the shackles had chafed her. As it was, it took absolutely everything she had to not erupt into a spinning wildfire of destruction and rage. But she had to keep focused. Zhao had her... for now.

"Would that really be necessary?" Zhao asked.

"Father will not be happy, whenever he learns of this," Azula pointed out.

"We shall see about that, now shan't we?" Zhao asked, leaning against the steel desk. "I've made sure you will enjoy all of the amenities. Someone of your utility should have nothing but the best."

"So my cage is wrought of solid gold?" Azula asked, striding forward until the chain connecting her ankle to the wall pulled taught, and caught her half-way through a step. Doing so forced Zhao to step back from the desk, almost to the door. "Well, that just absolves you of everything."

"I thought you would be grateful," Zhao said. "And perhaps, in time, you will be. You will be protected from the Avatar and those who would do you harm..."

"Do you want my body?" Azula asked, a smirk on her face. "Why, Zhao, I didn't think you preferred them so... young."

"Please," Zhao said, not being baited. "Your body interests me as much as the sum total of waterbending lore. It is your mind that's valuable, and it is your mind that I'm protecting. Because you are now my instrument. Your visions of the future, and my intellect. Imagine it."

"Only in my darkest nightmares," Azula noted.

Zhao, though, was obviously in too good a mood to be brought down. The dark smile on his face even reached his burnt eye. "Your prophecies can give me utter domination over the enemies of the Fire Nation. And don't think you'll be discarded, Azula. You will always have use to me, and your task will come with benefits."

"Not interested," Azula said, turning back to her bed. She could hear a few footfalls come closer to her.

"Really? What about absolute power?" Zhao offered. She half-turned to him. "While serving Ozai now is the best interest of the Fire Nation, I have a way of seeing the future before it comes. He does not. You're an ambitious girl; I know that much about you. You want power as much as any proper Fire National would. So my offer is this. As I rise, you rise with me. I will become Fire Lord, very likely with Ozai's recommendation," she smirked, and opened her mouth to point out an obvious problem with that plan. "And before you point out that only nobility can reach that perch... I am now one of them."

"What."

"I am Lord. Landless at the moment, but will soon change. I have the Fire Lord's ear and his faith. He has no heir..."

"He has me."

"He has no heir," Zhao continued forcibly, "of appropriate age, anyway. He will name me regent, and when I prove myself in that, plenipotentiary. When he dies, or absconds, the Burning Throne will fall to me. And without an undeserved drop of blood shed."

"I see. So you're an idiot."

"Why are you so averse to this?" Zhao asked. "I could conquer the whole world with you at my side? Is that so horrible, to look over the whole of the globe and call it all Fire Nation?"

Azula stared at her feet. As much as she wanted to insult him, that was much of her desire. Of course, that he demanded it be as his underling, or worse, his doxie, kept her blood at a proper boil. He walked closer, as her eyes stayed on the floor. "Just consider it," Zhao said, and patted her on the shoulder. She took the opportunity to spin hard, and drive her fist very hard up into his nose.

It hurt rather a lot more than she expected, but her muscular body sent Zhao sliding across the floor, blood spurting from his face as he slowly came to a halt, with his head touching the door. There was a long moment, as Azula shook the remarkable amount of pain from her fist – why hadn't somebody bothered to mention to her how much it hurt to punch somebody in the face? – where she allowed herself the hope that she'd managed to kill him. But then, his head tilted to her, as the blood ran around his neck. He slowly pushed himself to a stand, and leaned over, spitting some of it onto the floor.

"I'll return, once you've had some time to reconsider," he said, nasally for his obviously broken nose.

"Would you like to know your future, Zhao?" Azula said, her body running cold. It was like the veil moving forward, a horrible sensation of confusion and fear, but instead, as it did, the words kept flowing forth. "How you die? You die from stupidity, and arrogance, and avarice. You die because you take a victory and turn it into a defeat. You break the Tribesmen, beat down their defenses, and hold their god hostage in your hand. And then you screw it all up, killing it, and invoking the Avatar's understandable wrath. You die because you can't accept anything less than... Zhao the Invincible. There's irony in that title."

Zhao just stared at her, as her legs gave out and dropped her back onto the bed. She didn't even have enough left of her to take pleasure in the utterly terrified expression on his face. Because the veil had moved forward, and Azula had gone away.

Chapter 11

The Prisoner

"I take it she's being cooperative?" the colonel said snidely. Zhao didn't bother coming up with a witty reply, instead preferring to launch a blast of fire at the man. Yes, the man did manage to hurl himself aside, but Zhao turned to him, the blood running down his face from his nose. "What the hell was that, Zhao?"

"A warning shot," Zhao said. "Remember always, Shinu, that the difference between us is much more than simple rank. I could kill you and nail your skin to Pohuai's gates without so much as a reprimand."

"But..."

"A second word from you and I will demonstrate, colonel," Zhao said simply. The colonel took the expression on Zhao's face a great deal more seriously, as he ought have initially. Zhao took a rag and wiped the blood from his face. He didn't say it, but the way she said that... the way she talked about the future, so clearly, straight from the tides of time through her mouth...

It shook him.

As Shinu had almost vanished from sight, Zhao called at him again. "Close the gates," he ordered. "And send the Yu Yan Archers to the walls and the countryside. As long as they're serving as prison guards, they might as well make themselves useful."

"Yes, Lord Zhao," Shinu said. Zhao turned and pushed through a set of doors that overlooked the archery-ranges of the famous archers. They were considered amongst the most legendary fighters on this planet. And their precision was very much the heart of that legend. She would be protected. And Zhao?

Maybe it was time to learn if destiny could be... overwritten.

Having an airbender hovering around you sounded intuitive enough. Having it in actuality was outright distracting. She cleared her throat again, as she rewound the cleanest of their blankets around Sokka's wounded body. His pallor was still quite grey, and in fact had gotten worse from the high point it had reached the night they escaped. Katara didn't need Seni's years of learning under the medicine man to know that this was infection setting in. There was a reason why burns were so dangerous. It wasn't always the flames that killed you. "Aang, please stop doing that. It's very distracting," she said, carefully tucking the ad hoc bandages around him.

"I thought he was getting better," Aang said, despondently. Of their party, half of them were almost completely flat on their backs. Aang had set the howdah aside, which was just as well, because Appa now slept the sleep of the dead, only rousing briefly to munch on the grasses which swayed at the edge of the campsite, and then flop back to sleep for another dozen or so hours. The only grumbles coming from that direction were tired grumbles. But considering the fifteen hundred miles or so that the great beast had covered over a two day period, critical exhaustion was the very best thing that any could have expected.

What Katara wouldn't give to hear even one tired grumble out of her brother.

He was silent and still, the only movement his breathing. Every now and then, his eyes would slide open, but there was no alertness in them. He wasn't awakening; it was just eyelids sliding past each other. She never thought she'd want so desperately to hear her brother's dumb jokes, his witless sarcasm, his ruthless naturalism. His obsession with all thing scientific and revulsion toward the wonderfully absurd. Even his braying laughter would have been the kindest music to her. But now, Sokka was silent.

"He's sick," Katara said simply, slumping back against the wall of the lean-to. Cut into the rock of a high pass, it was almost a house, if one which had its front wall fall off at some point, which had been built back into the stone. Probably by earthbenders, decades ago. She let out a very tired sigh. "Burns get infected, and I'm pretty sure he's got a bad one right now."

"And what about you?" Aang said, the concern plain to his voice.

"What about me?" Katara asked.

"You look almost as bad as he does," Aang noted, his big grey eyes flicking between them. "Have you slept since...?"

"How could I?" Katara answered. She looked at the back of her own hand, and noted that her own color was scarcely better than her brother's. She'd saved his life in the Fire Nation. She didn't even know water could do that before. But then again, water had saved Azula's life, back in the South Pole. That was a mistake that Katara wouldn't soon repeat. Next time that crazy girl was on her back, somebody was going to have to deal with her on a more permanent basis. Her head dipped. She was really tired.

"Katara, are you alright?" Aang asked earnestly. And made it clear he wasn't going to allow evasion.

"I just... I need to look after my family," Katara said, despite her fatigue. Aang, though, gently guided her onto her back next to Sokka.

"And so do I," Aang said. He turned, looking out over the wind swept valley. While there were only high, grey clouds, and the rain didn't fall, the wind was positively howling, tearing through the pass without mercy or restraint. So Aang only gave a glance to his glider before sighing. "You two are my family now. I'll find a healer. I think I remember there being one somewhere nearby. If anybody's carried on in her footsteps, they'll have something that can help you," Aang said. And then he was off.

"Wait," Katara tried to shout, but her strength was failing her. Such weakness ran through her, it almost brought her to tears. She reached over and took her brother's hand. "It's going to be alright, Sokka. I'm right here."

Momo, possibly irate for having been ignored for so long, scampered over and chattered at them, before curling up between their hands. It was a warmth that she was quite appreciative for. While she couldn't say the words, as consciousness started to slip away from her, she just let out one prayer to Tui and La, one request in her heart. She wanted to see Dad again.

She fell into dark and searing dreams, of fire and screams and powerlessness.

If her memory stretched farther back, she'd know she dreamed of the day Mom died.

The crew stayed very far away from Zuko as the ship steamed over the bucking waves. He stood at the prow, his shoulders heaving with every breath he took. Every spray of the waves that crashed, as they crested and descended between them, turned to steam and a caking of salt within instants of landing near him. Once, a rogue wave, as tall as he was tried to crash over the bowsprit. It was only as high as his ankles by the time it reached him.

Iroh resolved to talk to him before the metal started glowing.

"Prince Zuko, are you alright?" Iroh asked, standing just outside that ring of salt. He knew that the heat Zuko was radiating would have seared a non-firebender the instant one crossed that line. He also knew that sustaining that kind of heat was a crippling drain. "Please, you should stop this. You're only hurting yourself."

"I couldn't stop them," Zuko said quietly, quite opposed to his posture, to the rage which painted itself onto the metal of the ship. "I couldn't protect Azula."

"There is more to life than the single promise you made," Iroh began, but stopped when Zuko half-turned to him, his left eye catching the sun and burning like fire. Iroh suddenly realized that this hadn't been the right way to lead into this sort of thing.

"Really?" Zuko asked, his voice heating. "Then what have I been doing with my life, Uncle? If I can't even keep my little sister safe, then what use am I, Uncle? If I can't even do the one thing my mother asked of me, the one thing I knew that would make her proud..."

"Your mother is proud of you in both victory and defeat," Iroh cut in. He knew that for a fact. She had been quite forthright with how she raised her children. Quite specifically, that she didn't want either of them growing up like she did. "She would understand that you suffered a setback."

"A SETBACK?" Zuko turned, casting out a flare of fire as he did. "Complete and utter obliteration is a setback?"

"What is the trinity of flame?" Iroh asked. Zuko snapped his jaw shut.

"Air, heat, and fuel," Zuko answered, but obviously, his patience was dangerously short.

"Exactly. Fire depends on air, and upon fuel which is often extracted from the earth. It is a discipline not divorced from, but a part of, the other elements. Now, tell me, Prince Zuko: What is the trinity of a man?"

Zuko stared at Iroh, and then turned to the rail, leaning over it. Iroh stood next to him, as they powered away from the Fire Nation. Away from the boy's home. Iroh knew full well how hard that tore at the young man's heart. "I don't understand," Zuko said quietly, staring at the water.

"A man is three things. He is his body, his strengths and his weaknesses, his speed and his sloth. He is his heart. The courage and the will to endure what comes, and the virtue to know what is right. And he is his mind. The wisdom to face adversity and triumph. The intellect to know what fights must be fought. With fire, any member of the trinity which is missing snuffs a flame," Iroh explained. "A fire without air snuffs. A fire without fuel gutters. A fire without heat withers. So too with a man. A man is only a man when his body, his heart, and his mind act in unison. Your heart is wounded, Prince Zuko, but it is not gone. You are not defeated. I know that. I know the promises you've made, I know the vows. You never gave up then, and you never will in the future. Your heart says you are wounded."

"...yeah," Zuko admitted.

"What does your body say?" Iroh asked.

"I'm... Angry. I want to..." Zuko shook his head, then twisted his arms away from the two of them. Lightning shot up the youth's arms and tore across the deck, forking and launching into the distance with a thunderclap, accompanied by a shout of rage from Zuko. His chest heaved as Iroh blinked away the purple afterimage of the bolt. Iroh then leaned in a little closer, set a hand on the boy's shoulder, and whispered as though expanding conspiracy.

"And what does your mind say?" Iroh asked. But this time, he didn't bother standing around to hear the answer. Better if he didn't hear it. Besides. He was pretty sure he already knew what it was. Iroh walked back into the cabins, and moved past his room, ascending to Azula's. He hadn't been close with her when she came aboard this ship. Two years had done some to mend that, but Iroh always felt like he was trying to read a book written in cypher when Azula was around. He might have thought her plotting something, but he knew the dire illness which afflicted her, drove her to these dire ends. He just stared at her darkened, vacant room, still adorned with all of that art and works. He looked at it, and thought to himself. "Who are you, Azula? What do you want?" he asked that empty room. And the empty room answered exactly as Iroh expected it to.

It killed Tzu Zi to see Nila like this. She just sat there, staring at the ground before her toes, despondent. "Come on, cheer up. You'll find him again," Tzu Zi attempted again.

"And then he'll vanish into thin air again," Nila answered. "I have never believed in a benevolent deity. This is further proof that I'm correct in my beliefs."

"Nila..."

"I'm still not convinced this kid actually exists," Malu piped up. While the airbender had a smile on her face, it was a fragile thing. It didn't reach her eyes. Obviously, the news that Malu got from the shaman in the woods wasn't the news she wanted to hear. Every bit of her now looked tired, and a little bit afraid. She cast her thumb to the mangy old Ostrich Horse which occupied a stall well away from the other beasts, if only for its foul temper. "I mean, what sane person would ever ride a crazy old brute like that?"

"Everybody says this is the one Sharif came with," Tzu Zi tried to explain.

"I figure it's just an elaborate prank," Malu. "Likely, he wasn't even here."

"But I saw him and..."

"He's gone. I have no idea how to find him. No idea where to start looking," the Si Wongi girl said quietly. "I failed. How am I going to tell Mother?"

"I'm sure she'll understand that you tried your best," Tzu Zi placated. Nila just let out a bitter laugh.

"Do you remember my mother?" Nila asked.

"Oh... right," Tzu Zi said, calling to mind the many stories, few flattering, which Nila had about her forebearer. Malu turned to her with a confused shrug. Tzu Zi motioned back to her that she'd explain later. "Look, maybe you should come with me. I'm going up north to meet Kah Ri, and I'm sure you'd love to meet her too. Who knows, you might even bump into your brother again!"

"I find that highly doubtful," Nila muttered.

"Why?" Sharif's voice asked behind her.

Nila leapt six feet into the air with a scream which Tzu Zi had to try very very hard not to laugh at. She landed, spinning around with green eyes as wide as wagon-wheels. "You! WHERE! HOW!" she screamed, trying to come up with the best question to ask first, obviously. And not quite able to decide which took precedence.

"You sound angry," Sharif noted, a distant expression on his face.

"Angry? ANGRY?" Nila asked. "I am so far beyond angry that the spot I abandoned 'angry' has vanished over the horizon! How did you do that? Where did you go?"

Tzu Zi quickly interposed herself between the two siblings as the interrogation began to sound rather like some of those rallies which Dad went on about. A lot of angry shouting went on at them. None of Tzu Zi's sisters really liked them. Even Gwen thought they were crass and vile, and she was the evil sister! "Can we please stop shouting?" Tzu Zi pleaded. "I don't like it when people shout."

"Yeah, I can hear you just fine," Sharif said, completely missing the point.

"Sharif, I swear to the gods..."

"Nila..."

Nila took a deep breath, and ran her hand along the slowly growing hair on her scalp. Already it had blackened her pate, and made a unique scratchy sound whenever Nila did that. "Where did you go yesterday?" Nila demanded.

"I met the Fire Lord, I think," Sharif said idly. "Do you have any food? I'm starving."

"You WHAT?" both of the girls shouted, if each with a very different reason.

"You don't need to yell, remember? I can hear you," Sharif said. "The Avatar needed my help getting through a door. You know, it's awfully wet in the Fire Nation."

"What?" Malu asked, but Tzu Zi managed to speak at the same time as her.

"You went to the Fire Nation," Tzu Zi tried to refocus the young man. "How? It's, like, thousands of miles away from here!"

"I took the eastern gate from the bog tree where stone egg hums," Sharif said. The girls all shared a look of equal and total bafflement. "Short cut," he explained, with a dismissive wave. "You know, lemurs are a lot smarter than I realized? I think I'm out of food. I'll have to pick some up before I go."

"Sharif, you do realize you've forgotten about ninety percent of that anecdote, dumbass."

"Oh, harsh," Malu muttered.

"Nila," Tzu Zi chastised. Nila didn't look too off put by it, though.

"He makes less sense than a three year old!" Nila complained. "And you're not going anywhere but back home. I am dragging you back to Sentinel Rock if I have to affix a leash to you!"

"Wow, rough family," Malu noted.

"It's a long story," Tzu Zi admitted.

"Wait, I'm forgetting something," Sharif said. He pawed at himself for a moment, then his eyes went a bit wider and he began to pull at the neck of his robes. He even threw away a purse in his haste. "No, where did I put it?" Sharif asked, obviously alarmed. Tzu Zi, though, picked up the purse near her foot. It was very heavy, and when she opened it, her eyes bugged at the amount of gold and silver inside.

"Nila..." she said, handing over the purse.

Nila spared it a glance before shrugging. "He must have taken the emergency money," without missing a beat. Tzu Zi stared at Nila for a moment. This was enough to live well – as in Fire Nation nobility well – for a year or more, and Nila turned it over without a second glance. "What are you looking for, Sharif?"

"The Jade Toe? It was right here, and then I..." he glanced up, slow realization dawning on him. "Oh... Maybe I gave it away."

"Maybe?" Malu asked.

"His memory is as poor as the rest of his mind. I doubt there was even a jade toe to begin with," Nila said. "Now come. It's a long walk, and we should leave now."

"What about Patriarch?" Sharif asked, moving to the obviously disgruntled bird at the end of the stables. The bird flicked its head for a moment. "No, not if you don't want to."

"What?"

The bird made a few grunting noises, and Sharif sighed. "Well, if it still hurts, you can just walk with us until its better."

"What."

Both turned to Malu, who was now standing beside Nila, fists on her hips, and her amusement had turned to obvious demand. It occurred to Tzu Zi that sanity could only be stretched so far before it came snapping back, and right now, that snap was named Malu. "Sharif is an idiot. Weren't you paying attention?" Nila asked.

"He's having a conversation with a bird, and has more gold than a dishonest merchant. Life is weird," Malu noted.

"I'm still missing something," Sharif said. Then, he turned. "Oh, right! There's another one now. Are you another friend of my sister?" he asked, still scratching at this 'Patriarch's neck and not turning to face her.

"Well, that depends on her," Malu said with a smirk. "I like to think she owes me her life."

Sharif gasped and turned. "That's a serious debt, Nila. You can't just..." he trailed off, staring at Malu. As he did, though, a look of confusion came over his face.

"What is it, Sharif?" Tzu Zi asked. Her answer came when his hands flashed to the manger's edge, and yanked hard, pulling out a taloning knife where it had been left embedded. In a flash, he bolted past Tzu Zi, shoulder checking her into the of Aki's stall, and interposed himself between Nila and Malu, that knife leading toward the airbender. The expression on his face was somewhere between childlike terror and utter rage.

"You stay away from my sister, demon!" he shrieked.

Malu backed away, confusion plain on her face, her hands out to her sides. "I... I don't know what you're talking about. I'm her friend. Really I am. I'm not making things up or lying..."

"Sharif, stop this, now!" Nila shouted, elbowing him in the ribs. He turned to Nila, then back to Malu, and the knife lowered slightly. "Malu might be by times insufferable but you may not hold her at knife-point. That's my privilege."

"But it's..." Sharif began.

"No, there are no buts, no howevers, no ifs, no hences, and no neverthelesses. I'm not having you threaten my friends. Period. End of sentence, end of paragraph, end of chapter. Am I making myself perfectly clear?" Nila said sternly.

"Yes, Mother," Sharif said, and not sarcastically.

"You did NOT just call me Mother," Nila said. But for all that comical indignation, Tzu Zi's eyes were still on Sharif. On how he still looked at Malu like she was an immediate and dangerous threat. Tzu Zi wanted, in her heart of hearts, to do something to dissolve this tension, to get everybody laughing and happy again. But she hadn't the first clue what exactly was happening, let alone the right way to fix it. Finally, Nila broke the silence with a clearing of her throat. "Alright. We're heading home."

"I'll see you back," Tzu Zi offered. "I've never been to Si Wong, and it's on my way."

"Heck, I'll come too. It's not like..."

"You can't come," Sharif stressed, glaring at Malu.

"She can come if she pleases," Nila countered. She continued at a mutter. "Although I cannot see why she would."

"Then we'd better go while the sun is still rising," Tzu Zi said, forcing brightness into her tones. They all needed it. Everybody here was tired and lashing out because of it. Maybe once they were all back on the road, they would calm down and be friendly again. At least, that was Tzu Zi's hope.

Hakoda looked up as he heard the leather of the tent flap being opened. "Bato, I thought you were watching the ships," he said idly, as he carefully measured out substances. He wasn't the only one in his tribe who could make these mines, but by far, he was the best at it.

"I had Ogan take over," Bato said, and held the flap open. "I have some people I think you'll be interested in meeting."

"At this time of night?" Hakoda asked. "I was about to turn in."

"Oh, you'll want to see her," he said. Hakoda sighed, setting aside the putty which was about two steps from becoming dangerous.

"And who could that be?" Hakoda asked, rocking back with his kneel. First, a very tall man ducked into the tent, unbuckling a sword and setting it aside. Hakoda raised a brow at Bato, but he was still beckoning in. When the next entered, Hakoda could definitely see why Bato had came to the tent this late.

"You are chief Hakoda?" the Si Wongi woman asked. "It is a pleasure to meet somebody on the proper side of this war."

"Bato, why is...?" Hakoda began.

"It has been a long time since we spoke," she said. "And I don't believe we were properly introduced at that time. Of course, it was almost a lifetime ago, so I doubt you would even remember."

Hakoda bowed slightly, though. "You underestimate the effect you have," the Chief said. "I doubt anybody would forget the name Sativa Badesh bin Seema din Nassar."

"Bint, but close enough," she corrected.

"I heard of what you did at Ba Sing Se," Hakoda said. "It was inspiring."

"I simply did what was needed," she said plainly. "The snake was incapable of throwing back the Dragon. I was not."

"What are you doing here?" Hakoda asked. "I thought you went into seclusion."

"If by seclusion you mean returned to my children, then yes," she said with a shrug. "And to answer your question, I am here because I need to ask you release one of your soldiers to me."

"Release a soldier?" Hakoda asked. "What do you mean? And if I may ask, who are you?"

The man, who was about as tall as Bato – not a mean feat, obviously – gave a cold nod, but his eyes kept flicking to Bato. "I'm not quite as famous as Sati is. That's the way I prefer it, actually. I'm not a center of attention, so I can get away with things that others can't. I am Piandao."

Hakoda just nodded at that. "Ah, Bato has spoken of you."

"He has, has he?" Piandao asked icily.

"If I may ask something of a living legend," Hakoda said wryly, "what exactly are you doing this far north? Come to break the siege of the North, perhaps?"

"No," she said. "I'm going to prevent the destruction of the world."

There was a long moment of silence, which was broken by one of the men coughing surreptitiously.

"Come again?"

"It is a matter for the Avatar's ears. Have you heard the news of him?"

"An airbender boy," Hakoda answered. "Beyond that, the stories are jumbled."

"Indeed they are," She admitted. "It is a difficult task, and I need old and trusted agents to be sure of success."

"So you're going to re-recruit my second-in-command," Hakoda finished. If she was surprised that he'd deduced her purpose here, she didn't show it. She simply nodded genially. "Bato is a trusted leader to the men, only scarcely less respected than me."

"Ruminate if you must, but do so quickly," Sativa said. "Your task is not unimportant. I do not mean to impugn, but bear in mind: If the Fire Nation is not defeated by the end of summer, no amount of resistance will be enough to hold them back."

"What do you mean?" Hakoda asked, leaning forward.

She took a breath, and shook her head slowly, her eyes sad and weary. "Have you ever heard of Sozin's Comet, Chief Hakoda?"

Two men sat in that perch, high above the roads, as it swayed lightly in the wind. It was not a choice assignment which brought them here. Watch-posts like these were strictly reserved for people whom the higher levels of command wanted gone, but didn't feel like going through with the effort of assassinating. Of course, once, places like this one were fairly rare. There was only so much land in the West Continent, after all, and having two towers watching over the same grounds would have been wasteful. Thus it was that with their recent foothold in the East, and the expanding that was going forth in recent weeks, that new perches were going up. And that meant an entirely new crop of undesirables now had a place they could be shunted out of sight and mind.

Rei had the misfortune of a girl's name, and that probably influenced him quite starkly for his entire life. While most people got shuffled to places like this out of being hopelessly incompetent, Rei was actually a quite able falconer. For quite a few years, that skill had kept him out of places like this. But he also had a misfortunate inability to think with his big head when the ladies were around.

Shinu was not happy when he discovered Rei in his daughter's bed.

"It says here that the Avatar can create tornadoes with his hands and can run faster than the wind. Isn't that wild?" Rei's companion asked. Rei never did bother learning his name. He just knew that the only reason that he was sitting here in this rickety, waving perch was because he was a firebender, and the Fire Nation had barely enough of those to go around.

"Eh. It's probably just propaganda by the Fire Lord. There's no way that can be true," Rei noted, turning back out to the pass. There was nothing to see, of course, but he still watched it. Sooner or later he'd get out of here, likely when somebody reassigned Shinu. When that happened, Rei didn't want to get left here for 'dereliction of duty'. The firebender leaned closer, reading the wanted posters which had very recently become plastered over every holding the Fire Nation had to bear. Rei doubted he could even read very well. Shameful, what the education system in the Fire Nation had fallen to in recent years.

Rei allowed himself a chuckle. Recent years. Rei wasn't even most of the way to thirty, yet.

He brought up the telescope and did a quick wave over the valley, but panned back when he beheld a waft of dust rising in the distance. He gave a nudge to the other soldier, and pointed. "What do you think? Ostrich Horses?"

The man leaned forward. When Rei shot him an unamused glance, he then brought up his own lens. Rei shook his head for a moment before looking again. His eyes widened slightly. That cloud was a lot bigger.

And it was moving very, very fast. From out that dust, tearing against the wind, Rei could make out a tiny form. It was a boy, a boy in orange and yellow. A boy with just a hint of blue on his head. "No way," Rei muttered to himself. And then, the boy was sprinting up the mountain somewhat near their concealed perch with such speed that a stooping hawk wouldn't have been able to keep up. The boy shot past the rickety tower, which waved even harder as the winds forced themselves back into proper order, and only Rei's timely intervention prevented the portly firebender from being pitched right out.

"That was as fast as the wind, right?" the other man asked. Rei just palmed his forehead, and then set a quill to scratching. The hawks were understandably upset from the jostling, but they would be flying soon enough. After all, it wasn't every day that Rei got to deliver a black-ribbon message. And it wasn't every day that a Fire National saw the Avatar without getting killed.

Aang came to a skidding halt in the cracked stone of a building which obviously had seen better days. Of course, the last time he'd even seen this place, it was a century ago, and it hadn't been much better then. "Excuse-me-can-you-help-me-my-friends-are-in-alot-of-trouble-and-I-need... " Aang rattled off so quickly that the words didn't so much spill forth as slide across a waxed floor and knock over a shelf full of expensive antiques. Once again, Aang wasn't in the right mindset to come up with proper metaphors, so he just took that as it stood and trailed off. Mostly because the only person attending his ramble wasn't really a person. It was a small, white cat.

"Myu?" the cat chirped.

Aang shook his head, and walked away from the fluffy feline, and walked away from the arboretum. He knew a skilled healer had once lived here, but that was a long time ago. "Is anybody still living here? I need help!"

He navigated amongst the plentiful and spreading plantlife. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried by that. Their fecundity showed something was tending to them. Their wildness showed they weren't being tended very carefully. He pushed open a door which reached into the centermost room of the building, a open area dominated by a large tree, covered over in hundreds of different vines, all climbing the tree even as it reached through where glass had once held it in, soaking up sun and wind from above. This place was abandoned after all.

"Close the door, you're letting the good air out," a raspy, geriatric voice said from directly behind Aang. Aang's squeal of alarm sent him about twenty feet into the air. When he landed, he turned to see a hunched old woman standing, with a basket in her hand, where he had vacated. The basket was filled with a lot of flowers and such oddities. "Well, there's a sight I haven't seen in a while. Children don't come by here as much as they used to."

"Are you the healer of this place?" Aang asked hopefully.

"Of course," she said, shuffling just past Aang and plucking a single berry from a clutch of its purple ilk. "I've been up here for forty years, since the last healer died. Used to have a lot of Earth Kingdom fighters pass through here, back when Azulon was trying to take us over. But since his son moved the fight up north, it's pretty much just me and Miyuki. Isn't that right, Miyuki?" the old woman asked, as the cat walked up to her and rubbed the old woman's leg. It was purring quite contently.

"You've healed soldiers from the war?" Aang asked. "Because my friend is..."

"All kinds of them," The old woman interrupted. "I might not be a Tribal but my remedies always ensure that they leave in better shape then when they arrived."

"That's just what I need!" Aang said brightly, as hope returned to him. "Sokka, my friend, he was burned pretty badly the day before yesterday. He looks so grey and he doesn't wake up no matter what we say or cook near him!"

"Sokka?" the woman asked. "That sounds like a Tribesman name."

"Yes, he and his sister are from the South Pole. Now can you help me with Sokka?"

"This sister of his, is she a waterbender?" the healer asked, as he followed her making her shuffling way back into the first room. Aang started to have that hope ebb, and a tension build up in him like a spring.

"Yeah, but I don't see what that has to do with..."

"Your friend is going to be just fine," the woman placated, patting Aang on his head. It was odd for her to do, because she wasn't much taller than Aang was. "But I do need just one more ingredient."

"Where is it? Can I get it for you?" Aang asked, hoping to speed this along.

"Of course not. It's right here. Just a pinch of cinnamon," she said brightly, adding the reddish powder to a mixture which she happily ground up. "There we go. All ready."

Aang grabbed at it, and found himself rebuked by a pestle to the wrist. "Ow! What was..."

"Don't take that! You don't have any need of cat-food anyway!" the old woman said, turning and lowering the bowl to the floor. Miyuki then sauntered over and began to casually eat. Aang just stared at her, rubbing his wrist, with the most baffled look on his face. "A proper blend of ingredients is important to help her digestion. Because you have a tender tummy, don't you, Miyuki?"

The cat turned up and offered a contented 'Myu' at the old woman.

"What about Sokka?"

"It isn't Sokka you need to worry about," the healer said. Then, she halted, and turned back to Aang. "How old is this waterbender, anyway?"

"A year older than me, I guess?"

She let out a weary sigh, and beckoned after her. "Then you do have a problem. It's just not the boy," she explained. "I am a healer by vocation. I have learned for so many years that I've doubtless forgotten more about healing than most ever learn. But waterbenders are healers in their blood. A waterbender can close wounds, still the escape of blood, even fight illness with their art. But if she is young, she is doubtless untempered."

"I'm trying to get her to the North Pole to find a teacher, but things keep getting in the way," Aang noted. Like this increasingly aggravating and lengthy conversation, he managed not to say.

"I don't know much about waterbenders. Not one myself, you know? But I heard it said that healers, their kind of healers, can harm themselves if they try to do it without proper training. It's like they take on the harm into themselves, instead of just dealing with it directly," she said. She reached down and snapped off a bulb from a stem. She then turned to Aang, offering it. "This isn't much, but it will give her the strength to recover from what she's been doing."

Aang poked it lightly with a finger. It was gross. It was slimey and felt like there were tadpoles living inside it. "Do I really have to make her eat this?" Aang asked.

"Eat? Why would you make her eat it?" the woman asked, a brow raised. "It's a suppository."

"A w... You put it where?" Aang asked.

"Although eating it might work too... in a pinch, anyway," the healer admitted. Aang just held that bulb for a long moment, his mouth agape. His thoughts swirled around him, for rather a long while, until he finally came up with one which encapsulated his feelings at the moment.

"You're out of your mind, aren't you?"

"Aaaaah-yup," the healer cheerfully before turning away. Aang wrapped the thing in a little box he usually used to keep messages dry. Since he hadn't gotten any for more than a hundred years, it was a fair new use for it. If nothing else, it'd keep the disgusting thing from getting squashed and getting goop all over his pants. "Oh, and one more thing," the old woman turned back. "Those things lose their vigor fairly quickly, so make sure you get that in her by tomorrow. That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

"Of course not," Aang said, and then turned back out the door. Sokka was right, Aang pondered. His life was weird.

"The physician once again urges you not to be so strenuous," Kwon said as he finished fastening the nose-cage over Zhao's face. "He says you must have been mad to keep fighting after being thrown through two walls."

"Tell the physician that he can take a long walk off a short pier, during a storm, for all I care," Zhao muttered, resisting the mighty if insensible urge to fiddle with his nose. It wasn't even that it was itchy. It was just that insane little impulse that all people got. When they saw that they had a bruise, a part of their minds always begged them to prod it, if only to figure out how much it would hurt. Zhao himself was doing what he usually did. Even though Azula was actually here, and he could consult with her at his leisure, there was still something calming and familiar in referencing amongst her old writings, breaking her cyphers and her language and learning more and more about the future which she foresaw for them.

Some of the things were glorious and magnificent. Others... deeply, deeply troubling. Like how Zhao's name vanished from her stream of prophecy after the end of this winter. But there were other pressing matters to concern him. Namely, that by her word, the Avatar would soon be in this very stronghold.

There was a fluttering at the cages by the window, as a hawk dove in and began to preen. Kwon quickly, for all his neutral expression and hang-dog attitude, moved to that window and pulled the message from the bird's carrying case. "Black ribbon, Lord," Kwon said simply. Zhao's brows rose at that.

"Well, what does it say?"

"Not for my eyes, Lord," Kwon said flatly. Zhao just stared at him grimly. "Very well, Lord. It says that the Avatar was seen not far from here. Running up a mountain pass afoot. This was... about twelve minutes ago, by the ink's tackiness."

"The Avatar is near Pohuai?" Zhao asked. A smile came to his face, but he aborted it, when it pulled on his broken nose and sent a shard of pain into his palette. "Send out the Yu Yan archers. It's said they can pin a fly to a tree in a wind-storm, without killing it. Let's see how they fare against the likes of a thirteen year old boy."

"They will be dispatched at once," Kwon said. Zhao couldn't help but marvel at the kismet of it all. Retiring to one of the most secure Fire Nation fortresses in the East, which was almost exclusively stocked by Yu Yan Archers, just as an airbender appeared. Popular myth had it that the Yu Yan were assembled to hunt down the scattered Air Nomads after Sozin delivered their death blow. Few realized the Yu Yan predated Sozin by quite a few centuries.

"And bring him in alive," Zhao said. "I want to drag him before the Burning Throne myself."

"...As you wish, Lord," Kwon said, after a hesitation. Zhao wondered what that meant, but he had other thoughts on his mind. Like humbling that bastard Zuko once and for all. Zhao'd had to scratch and claw his way up from the peasantry, while Zuko had been born into wealth and prestige. As far as Zhao saw things, the only people who deserved power were the ones who fought for it. And Zhao had fought harder than anybody else. Once again, a smile came to him as Kwon vacated the room to give the order. And Zhao ignored the pain in his face. This would be the beginning of Zhao's ascent. From Fire Nation nobody, to Fire Lord. Oh, what stories would be told of him.

Aang was running again. There was a burning in his legs, and in his lungs, which was growing worse with every quickened stride. More and more, he was starting to regret his omnipresent laziness. Any sort of endurance training – the likes of which had been freely offered to airbenders back when there were still other airbenders – would have made this an easy jaunt. But no, he had to be lazy, and sneak off to steal pies.

In Aang's defense, those were excellent pies.

There wasn't any doubt that he'd make it back to his friends in time. It had taken him less than half an hour at his break-neck speed to reach the healer, and he had a day to stick this disgusting thing into Katara's... mouth, he decided. The alternative was too gross to consider. His breath came in hot pants, now, tearing at his throat as his legs burned under him. No time to think. Just run. Run and get Katara better again. When she was better, somehow that would make Sokka better. At this point, Aang simply gave up questioning the logic of it.

There was a whistle in the air which was Aang's only warning that he had to stop short. When he did, the bow wave of the air he was parting slamming shut past him struck so strongly that it actually managed to halt an arrow in mid-flight which looked like it had been heading directly for Aang's knee. It fell, exploded into splinters, to the ground. His eyes went wide, and he took a few panting breaths, as he plucked up the arrow head from the ground. "You should be more careful!" he shouted between pants. "You almost hit me with this!"

The answer to that helpful comment came in a barrage of whistles, and a forest of wood, feathers, and sharp iron tearing through the air at Aang. He let out a yelp of terror, and started running again, even as his body was just about ready to shut down. The first barrage landed exactly where he had been standing. The second, which landed a few moments later, had to be carefully dodged to keep it from nailing his foot to the sod. Aang made a break for the woods, where he could at least have some cover from what had to have been a lot of disgruntled people with repeating crossbows.

"Shoulda... did some... laps," Aang muttered to himself as he heard another twang of a bowstring snapping forward. Aang reacted with panicked airbending, which deflected the bolt into the tree Aang was standing behind. There were many arrows, he noted, and most of them were aimed specifically at his lower extremities. That meant somebody was either very sloppy with their aim, or else...

Aang once again considered cursing aloud at the weather and the inability for Appa to fly at the moment. He was very much trapped down here, and it was not a feeling he much enjoyed. No airbender ever would. He was off like a shot again, racing through the blinding underbrush, trying to keep a bead on where he needed to go to reach Katara and Sokka, and at the same time, trying to lose pursuit that he couldn't even see. The only reason he knew he hadn't lost them yet was because arrows, in fives and sixes, and always clustered within an area of a very few inches, kept feathering the ground or a tree near him as he fled.

It wasn't a root which tripped him up, but his own fatigue. He was traveling so fast, though, that he actually managed to bounce off the ground, rebound off a tree, and roll to a stop in a small clearing. Yeah, that was going to hurt tomorrow. He pushed himself off the ground where he had been rendered supine, and rubbed his head, trying to get the planet to come to a decision about which way was down. As the gravity – in both senses of the word – returned to him, he started to force himself up, to start running again, no matter what his body wanted.

It was actually, in a perverse way, a relief when a half-dozen arrows feathered his shirt to the ground. He tried to pull them out, but another dozen arced down through the canopy, and he could only yell in alarm as those dozen continued the work of their forebearers, increasingly pinning Aang to the ground with increasing vigor, until the only thing Aang could move was his head. And one arrow, which now vibrated against the crown of his head, made it perfectly clear that they wouldn't miss if they bothered aiming for it.

Aang heard another creak, as somebody appeared in Aang's field of view. In an instant, Aang blasted out a wave of air from his lungs, which sent the archer flying. He let out a quick, and abortive, triumphant laugh. It was very short lived. Mostly because where one was dispatched, twelve took his place, all staring down at him along arrows which were drawn and aimed at his face. The laugh became much more nervous. "Um... I surrender?" Aang tried.

Katara felt more than half dead. She pushed herself up off of where she'd taken to resting on Appa's leg. For all the beast was as tired as the rest of them, it was warm, and Katara just felt so cold right now. Like she couldn't get warmed up, even as she sweated profusely. Her head spun, but her mind was clear. She staggered a couple of steps over to where her brother was still lying, well away from Appa. Mostly because she didn't want to think about digging bison hair out of a burn. Her staggering walk was brought to an end when she tripped over Momo, and sent the little lemur screeching in animal anger.

"Sorry Momo," Katara said, her voice echoing in her hearing. "I didn't see you there."

The little lemur quickly scrabbled up Katara's prone form and started tugging at her hair-loopie, as though trying to haul her back to Appa. A ridiculous notion. Lemurs didn't know that sort of stuff. "No. Go away, Momo. I've got to get to Sokka."

She crawled the rest of the way. Every movement of her body toward him dragged up old and regrettable memories. Every twisted, unkind word. Every disparaging comment. Every unkind opinion voiced without thinking. Aang had been right, back in the bog. She was a bad sister. Maybe it was because after Mom died, Katara tried to become her? It wasn't possible to be both mother and sister, not outside some particularly disgusting and unsettling stories that Bato had once informed them of. Katara never had a mother. She didn't even remember Kya's voice, nor face, nor anything else. Katara was so young when Mom died.

Maybe that was why she was a bad sister. She never had anybody to tell her to stop it.

Whatever the cause, she had it in her to make it better. She couldn't say how she did it, but she knew that it would be better. She finally reached him, and took a sweaty hand and laid it on his shoulder. The burns there were the least pronounced, for all they had been no less terrible than any other. As she did, Sokka's eyes flittered open again.

"Wh..." he muttered.

"It's okay," Katara said, half unconscious. "I'm going to make it better."

"I'm... not dead?" Sokka asked.

"Shhhh."

Katara felt energy start to flow in her, and the sweat and water of the air seemed to form glowing gloves on her hands, and she pressed them to the wounds. Where they touched, the burns seemed to pull together, if not quickly than at least much faster than natural healing would ever allow. While the skin still held the bubbling, rippled texture of a burn, it was now an old burn, not the angry, inflamed, infected new burn. "Katara, how did you do that?" Sokka asked, his voice still faint, as he was obviously still weak.

"I'm not really sur..." she said, and trailed off as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away. She didn't hear how her brother desperately whispered her name. She was lost in dark and lonely dreams.

She worked with a single minded obsession which Zhao didn't even claim to understand. She hadn't even noticed his entrance, which spoke volumes in and of itself. Her task was plain; a strip of paper, laid over the desk, and subject to intense painting. The scene was one strong of red and brown, and two figures were already starting to appear as its subject. But Zhao didn't feel like looming over his prized instrument at the moment. Particularly since he didn't feel like getting his nose broken twice in one day. "I thought you might like to know, Azula," Zhao said from the door. "The word from the Yu Yan archers is that they've captured the Avatar. He's on his way to this fortress as I speak."

Upon mention of the Avatar, she paused, but she didn't turn to him, or say a word. There were a thousand yards between her eyes and whatever it was she was looking at. Whatever fugue took her when she entered her oracle trance was not anything which Zhao easily understood. The change between the Azula who'd socked him this morning and the Azula of this moment was stark. That Azula had been collected and precise, even after her harsh capture. She'd even took the time to re-do her hair since arriving at the stronghold. But this Azula? That hair hung wild, and her bangs sometimes draped along the portrait in works, smearing the paints and sullying her bangs. And she didn't even seem to notice. That was the most disturbing part of it. Not that she was untidy; that she was unaware.

"Well? Do you have anything to say about that?" Zhao asked.

She set back to work again, as though either having not heard him, or not listening. Zhao let out a grunt, and turned away. Let her sulk if she wanted to. She would come to his side in time. Eventually, she would see that Zhao was the only way she would ever go back to the Fire Nation. And when that became clear to her, Zhao's destiny was ensured.

Neither noticed through the window, though, as a whisper of moonlight glinted off a spyglass, nor a figure in black vanish into the night.

"Promise me you'll hide, Malu. No, I don't care. Just promise me!"

"Alright, I promise, Mother."

"They're getting through! How did they get so powerful?"

"You're scaring Malu!"

"She should be scared! She should be RUNNING!"

"Mom?"

"Just run, baby. Please. Don't make this pointless."

The dream drifted away, leaving her with a knot in her throat. She'd only been thirteen when the Day of Fire swept over the world. Over the years since, she'd heard of a very specific term for somebody who had the same dream, over and over, of something which was never very pleasant to begin with; shell shock. Malu didn't doubt that she was at least a little bit banged up in the old noggin, considering the things that she survived. Her family killed. Her bison shot out of the very sky. She spent a month tethered to the ground because of a broken leg. In its way, it was just as well. The hunt had taken to the sky, those horrible, red-faced archers knocking down anybody who dared to exist more than ten feet off the dirt. If she'd been flying, they might have been able to find her.

The world was in a bad spot. And she had been crippled when it needed her. After that though? After that, she was just afraid. Yeah, she wanted to do what her parents told her to do. To batten down, hide the old robes, and become just another face. She hadn't even tried contacting anybody from the other Temples. She hadn't dared. Was it cowardice which stayed her hand, or was it caution? Although, against a man like Sozin, the two might well be synonymous. She studied the insides of her eyelids, hoping that sleep would take her, and maybe bring her a nicer dream than she'd been enduring of late. Maybe she should try going back to the Spirit World, have a poke around there. She rolled her eyes under their lids, though; she could probably name a dozen other Air Nomads who knew the Spirit World better than she did. Even Aang, lazy bugger that he'd been, was probably more knowledgeable. Blame it on her actually trying with the concrete things, the things which mattered in this world.

She wondered if any of her old friends made it out. And then she chastised herself. They almost certainly hadn't. Even if they had, they would be half-trained at best. Malu was probably the last real, complete and trained airbender in the world. And that thought was deeply, deeply sad.

It was her hunger which was keeping her up, she decided. While there wasn't much left of dinner, there was almost certainly some bannok and a plethora of hardtack hanging off the old bird's back. Even lame, Sharif wouldn't leave him behind, so they put some supplies on him. Hardtack. About as unpalatable food as she could imagine. But considering how hungry she was, right now, it would probably go down like a feast.

Setting her mind in motion, she opened her eyes. And found that there were intense green eyes staring back down at hers. She almost let out a yelp, but a dark hand slammed over her mouth. Rationally, she knew that a flick of airbending would cast the youth off of her, but then she felt something just barely touch her bottom eyelid. No, it wasn't even a knife... it was a sewing needle.

"I know what you are," Sharif said in that highly inarticulate, borderline unintelligible way he did, his eyes wide and harrowing. She stared up at him, and a distant part of her mind was noting how many seconds he went between blinks. It was still counting, since he hadn't offered a first one, yet. "I might have forgotten for a while, but I remembered. I know what you want, and I won't let you have it."

"Mhn mh hrm, s'm khn!"

"No talking. No invoking," Sharif said, leaning closer. "You've done something bad, haven't you? You opened a door and let something in? Let her go. Now."

"Wt t' hl uh shng?"

Sharif just stared at her. She tried to lean back from that sewing needle, but it remained, just barely touching her eyelid. She feared to blink, lest he prick her with it. She really didn't want a sewing needle in the eye! Her grey eyes flit between the needle and his still unnervingly unblinking eyes, her breath coming faster and faster, sweat beginning to pour from her brow. If she could just do something. Get the angry girl's attention... but he had her arms pinned. Her legs were tangled in her sleeping bag. If there was one thing which could cripple an airbender more than anything short of death, it was confinement. Mobility was paramount in airbending. And now, she was cut off from it.

"You're not leaving."

His hand shifted slightly. "NI...!"

The hand slammed back into place, and the needle actively pricked. The shout died in her throat. Alright. Message received. No shouting. Her obvious panic must have calmed him, because he moved the hand again. "I won't yell... I promise."

"Get out of her."

"I'll leave, just let me go, and you won't see me again."

"No, you have to get out of her."

Malu first thought that he had misspoke. Considering how much worse his Tianxia was compared to his erudite and learned sister, it was an understandable mistake. But what he actually said didn't make any sense. "W...what?"

"I can see you hiding. Leave her now."

"I'm not hiding," Malu said carefully.

Sharif finally pulled that needle back, rocking back to where he was essentially straddling her stomach. "Maybe... maybe it's asleep?"

"Yeah, that's gotta be it," Malu agreed whole-heartedly, and without the slightest understanding of what that agreement entailed. If it meant not getting a needle in her eye, it was good.

"How did it get in? What did you do? Who did you call?" Sharif demanded. It was a stark change to see this focused, furious side of him. Even then, he still obviously wasn't playing with a full deck. "The center fell and the fringes cannot hold. Why?"

"I... I don't understand."

Sharif stood, scratching his head. "Fine. Fine, if that thing's asleep, then there's..." he pondered, rattling off something in his native tongue, as though searching for words. "...no problem. But if you awaken a sleeping beast and entirely fail to run, you will find... bad stuff. No. Not bad stuff. Worse. I'm..." he glanced away. "What was I saying?"

"Are we good?" Malu asked, cautiously.

"Of course, why wouldn't we ACK!" he flinched as he looked at her, and brandished that needle like it was a knife. After a moment, though, he slapped himself on the scar. "No. No, it's asleep. Remember fool, remember!"

"I'm... just going to sleep over there," Malu said, dragging her sleeping bag next to where Sharif's sibling was snoring lightly, next to Tzu Zi and the fire, respectively. She kept sending glances back at Sharif, but he was now staring to the north and west. What the hell had that been? Malu picked up a bag of hard tack which had been left out for the morning's breakfast, near the fire. Two dozen biscuits. Enough food in that one bag to feed the four of them almost a week by itself.

In twenty quiet minutes, as she tried to go back to sleep, the bag was empty.

And Malu was still hungry.

Aang fought his chains, but for all two separate version of his past lives named him 'the chain-breaker', he found himself desperately wanting. That sort of appellation really should have come with perks and added powers. Like chainbending. That would have been an awesome thing to have right now. Considering the weight and heft of them, it would take a pair of bison to burst them. And since Aang was, quite obviously, not a pair of bison, they would remain in place. The apparatus over his face was utter overkill.

The door slid open with a bang, and walking into the pool of scarlet light cast by the pillars holding Aang's chains, came a man with an equally ridiculous rig on his face. Of course, Aang had to guess that Zhao's was less incarceration and more rehabilitation. "So the infamous Avatar shows himself again," Zhao said smugly, but that burnt eye still held its perpetual glower. "'Master of the elements'. And yet brought down by a cadre of men with mortal weapons. For a demigod, you make a poor showing of yourself. Perhaps the legends of the Avatar's Power were drastically overestimated."

Aang just leveled a glare at the man. It wasn't like he could do much talking. The muzzle over his face made it hard to move his jaw, let alone speak. Zhao smirked at that. "So you're wondering about your little brace? Well, I can't have you blowing air all the time. You might, with time and effort, jostle something loose. And I'm not going to let that happen, now am I?" he continued to circle Aang, until he couldn't keep track of him, walking behind the boy's back. "Tell me, Avatar. Do you miss your people? How does it feel to be the last airbender on the face of this planet?"

Aang felt a wave of despair threaten to bow him, sending him slumping in his chains. But he had hope. That girl couldn't have been lying. Why would she? Even a hundred years out, there were at least two airbenders. Aang wondered who it could be... and realized the chances of it being somebody he knew from the old days were, while not necessarily zero, a number so close to it as to practically vanish. So he shot the man a defiant glance. Zhao laughed at it. "I would have expected sadness. Perhaps you have a whit of strength to you after all? Of course it doesn't matter. You're not going to get killed like they were. If I kill you now, you're just going to get reborn somewhere in the Water Tribes. And the way my luck seems to run, you'd probably be in the North. So we're not going to kill you," Zhao said, as he circled back in front of Aang. "At least, not until the North is in our hands. Until we contain every waterbender in the world. Perhaps then you can safely die. As I understand it, the Fire Lord has a program in mind for this eventuality."

Aang raised a brow at that. What could Ozai possibly do with a waterbender? What would Ozai possibly do with an waterbender?

"Enjoy my hospitality," Zhao said as he confidently walked – nay, strutted – away. "Don't worry. It'll probably only be a few months. Once we destroy the North Water Tribe, I'll be kind, and let you rejoin your people. In the afterlife, at least."

He laughed with triumph and slammed the door behind him. And Aang was alone again. He breathed deep, trying to get some blast on the thing on his face, but didn't budge. He might be alone, he might have nobody coming for him... but he had to get out. Katara was depending on him. But how was he getting out. He didn't have the first idea. He would have desperately loved for somebody to come up with a plan for him. Even one of Sokka's plans would have done.

He didn't notice, as he struggled experimentally at his chains, that a second heartbeat started up in his pocket, as something not-of-this-world began to stir.

"Are you sure I can't change your mind about this?" Hakoda asked with a degree of sadness.

Bato only shrugged. "You might be the chief, Hakoda, but she's still the boss," he said.

"You know, in a proper military, you'd get hanged for desertion."

"Then I suppose it's lucky we aren't in a proper military," Bato answered glibly.

"You've been spending far too much time with Hakoda," Sativa weighed in. "You're starting to... well, sound like him."

"It's unfortunate," Hakoda admitted. "Having a second-in-command I could trust was a valued commodity. What happens if something goes wrong now?"

"Have you considered Ogan?"

"He's a hunter, not a fighter. Not like us, anyway," Hakoda answered.

"Maybe, but you were 'just a hunter' once," Bato said. "We all were."

Hakoda couldn't disagree with that. He wasn't even a hunter, in his youth. Long before he ascended to chieftainhood, he was a trader. He was the man that the tribe sent to get vegetables and tin, their source of news from the outside world. How and why he ever got selected for leadership over the whole South Water Tribe after Qejay died was beyond him. But he made the most of it. That was all anybody could do.

And he felt the weight of it now, as the best commander he knew in person absconded with the best commander he knew by reputation. "You'd better not die out there," Hakoda said simply to his old friend. "I don't feel like informing your family that you're out there somewhere and never coming back."

"Hakoda," Bato began, then he seemed to switch gears. "I'm rejoining the Dragon of the East. What could possibly go wrong?"

Hakoda actually let out a sigh at that, and palmed his forehead. "You just had to say that, didn't you?" he muttered.

"Can we make short our goodbyes?" Sativa asked, rubbing the side of the Ostrich Horse that she'd bought from the abbey. "The Mountain King's pass is far away, and I have pressing business there."

"Pressing," Piandao said with a disapproving shake of his head. "The man left us to die."

"I know he had his reasons," Sativa said plainly. "And we will need somebody of his... creativity... for what is to come."

"Creative? The man was mad, pure and simple," Bato agreed. Then he shrugged. "Still, he did make life interesting."

Hakoda felt he still had to try. "Please, Bato. I know the men, but you know the war. I need you here."

"And I have to go," Bato said simply. "Besides, you've had more experience on the battlefield in two years than most people have in a lifetime. All of us have. You just need to – and right now, I just realized I was trying to improve the Chief's morale. Sativa, did the world go insane in the last few weeks?"

"The Avatar returned," Sativa answered.

"I'll take that as a yes," Piandao mused.

Hakoda was about to make an ill-advised and fairly un-funny joke when something struck him odd about the environment. He raised a finger, and tilted his head, listening to the passage of air through the trees. "Did you hear that?" Hakoda asked, the mirth gone. Bato stopped, and he seemed to focus on the sounds as well.

There wasn't much. The forest had certain noises which were going to be associated with it even in the best of times. But Hakoda had lived north of the antarctic long enough to know when something didn't belong. Crackling of branches; things moving through the forest. Rustling of limbs; the same. A quiet din of human voices; the abbey's road was not far off, and they often enough had a caravan pass through to export their perfumes. But something was out of place.

And then he heard it again. A deep, guttural grunt.

The grunt of a Komodo Rhino.

"We're being attacked," Bato confirmed a moment after Hakoda's face bore the revelation.

Sativa actually seemed a bit surprised by that. "What? Who? Where?"

"They're coming," Hakoda said, pulling the long, thick knife from its place at his belt. "And they're coming from every direction."

It was a whisper of shadow in the night, silent as thought, and as quick. "I can't really believe it," one of the guardsmen said, his eyes scanning the long expanses of ground that stretched away from every direction of the vast, three-baileyed fortress of Pohuai. "The Avatar has been captured! Does that mean we've won the war?"

"No, Jong. God, it's like working with a child..."

"But without the Avatar, who's left that would fight us?"

"The Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdoms, the ocean, the storms, our own children..." the first began to list off.

"But... the Avatar..."

"Is not that important," the first said. "Not when we've got..."

The shadow moved on, slipping past them as their back was turned. The news was grim everywhere. The Avatar was in Zhao's hands. The news which wasn't circulating was how he imprisoned the Fire Nation's Princess as well. There was the slightest rattle of metal against stone as a drab hook was wedged into place, then a long grey rope dropped over the parapets into the outermost bailey. Dark, form-concealing clothes hid the shadow as it descended swiftly. One might have said it moved like an Azuli, but that would be romanticizing and also be wholly inaccurate. Azuli assassins could kill a man so discretely that even the victim didn't realize he'd been killed until several hours later. But when the shadow moved, it was unremarked.

The shadow in the blue mask flashed across the bailey, sliding down into the septic flow as a hooded-and-mirrored beacon light was about to sweep past and reveal it. The stink was atrocious, but considering what this place was, hardly surprising. It was also the only way to reach the second bailey from the third without being seen. The infiltrator had checked every other entrance. There were none that sufficed but this. It quickly squeezed itself through the obviously symbolic bars that cut lines into the effluent as it flowed. A few seconds more, and it crossed from the outflow into the inflow. That was going to be the tricky part. While it washed away the stink, and the pipes were utterly unbarred, they obviously thought there'd be no need to, since they were full from base to top with water. Anybody trying to infiltrate through those would drown before they made it half way across the second bailey.

Well... almost anybody.

The shadow in the grinning blue oni mask descended into the waters, and slipping into the flow, crossed the bailey, heading steadily, steadily deeper into the stronghold of Pohuai.

Zhao once again resisted the urge to prod his broken nose. Whatever malevolent spirit had ingrained that impulse into humanity in its earliest days should be dragged under the sun and set on fire, as far as he was concerned. Luckily, the problems of an aching and yet irresistible nose were secondary to the task which Zhao had undertaken in the aftermath of a short and appropriate gloat over the Avatar. He was sitting in his commandeered study, reading from two books and taking notes in a third. Odd, how he had Azula in person and body right here, and he still contented himself to translating her writings. Of course, there was a good reason for that. Until he could convince her to join his side willingly, she would never divulge her secrets save for under a process of cudgel cryptography – and she was worth far too much to inflict that upon her.

Zhao was patient. He would wait her out. Patience was a virtue he would have to cultivate, to be sure, but he could see it paying out high dividends. He paused for a moment, as the notion that his never establishing a family, despite having his fortieth birthday come and go might actually work to his benefit. Especially since he was now elevated to a new and lofty level, with wealthy and powerful women whom he could choose through. That thought brought a smile to Zhao's face, and he turned back to his work. Although, oddly, Azula would have been an optimum choice in that regard. If she had been a dozen years older, or he two dozen years younger, anyway. Since that wasn't the case, he put the notion amiably and permanently out of his mind.

Zhao flipped a page, and found that this was one he hadn't taken a crack at in quite a while. The notes he had on it were at the very beginning of his reference notebook, and were woefully out of date. He shook his head, tore that page out of the reference and burned it. It was more wrong than right, anyway. By now, Zhao had learned enough of Azula's cypher that he could pick out most of what it said just at a skim. He'd shot past the first two lines before the content matter caught up with him, and his eyes widened. Even the burned one. He put the second book aside and leaned over the first, widening the hood of the lantern to send more light across it, as though there was some shadow obscuring the meaning of the words. There wasn't.

"Nature of the Blue Spirit unknown. First known appearance was infiltration of... Pohuai Fortress?" Zhao said. He pondered for a moment, then continued down the page. "Later appearances saw him tied to acts of banditry in the East, which seemed to indicate nothing but a thug with the good sense to conceal himself, but it was the first which marked him an agent against the Fire Lord."

Agent against the Fire Lord. It was a term which Azula had used numerous times. It was how she had described the two Tribesmen which traveled with the boy. That was why Zhao had so calmly and without conflict incinerated the teenager at the first possible opportunity. Zhao had read the prophecies Azula created, and knew that, out of context, they painted a grim picture for the nation. But he knew the truth about her. Ozai might think her a traitor, an inciter, but Zhao had found her plans to defend against some horrific attack she foresaw. No traitor would ever so arduously struggle to defeat their own interest.

"Are you going to be delivering the speech?" Kwon's voice came from the door, which had been cracked, but the man didn't enter.

"No. Not yet," Zhao said, staring down at the words on the page. How long ago since he first tried to understand this? Why had he not bothered trying again? "He is a man of great skill and cunning, but his identity eludes me still. It is a testament to his guile that he managed to steal..."

"What is it, Lord?" Kwon asked.

"That he managed to steal the Avatar right out from under Zhao's stupid eyes in his own 'inescapable fortress' and get away with it," Zhao finished, a scowl pulling back onto his features. He turned to Kwon. "Empty the bunks and put the fortress on high alert. Azula tried to warn us, but we were too foolish to understand."

"...I don't understand," Kwon said, the only indication of his bafflement on his droopy face was a slightly raised eyebrow.

"There is an intruder in this fortress. And he is going to try to free the Avatar," Zhao said, pushing himself out of Shinu's chair and stomping through the halls. Not today, he thought. Not now that I know.

The first rush came with fire and the thunder of clawed feet on the forest floor. Two of the massive beasts charged through them, scattering the collection of middle-aged warriors, before beginning to circle about, to keep them hemmed in as the others began to converge.

"Just like old times," Bato said with a smirk, casually hefting his spear before him.

The four of them had pulled into a tight scrum, but Sativa was fairly certain that whatever attack would come to her first. She was by far the shortest of them, and by raw appearances, the weakest. Thus, when one of the beasts began to turn in, and charge toward her, it was met with a shocking rebuff. Her hands moved with the lightning swiftness and needle precision that she had cultivated over years at war. They dragged the bow out of its case, and the arrow which was set to run down with it. Most would never keep an arrow with the bow, for fear it would damage them. Sativa made sure that didn't happen. And being able to nock an arrow even as the bow was coming out of the case meant that she had drawn and fired in less time than a human being could possibly react. The stunned look of the beast's rider as he was shafted and fell over the side of the saddle was a welcome sight to the old warrior. It was proof that, no matter what had happened over the years, as the Mountain King would have put it, 'the chick's still got it.'

What followed was a frenzy of sound and flame, as the Fire Nationals, knowing that their trap was sprung, sought to end the quarry captured as quickly as possible. Sadly, they had no conception of what they were dealing with. Arrows flew from Sativa's bow with such speed and regularity that one could be forgiven for thinking she was part of a squad. While not all of them bit with the same lethal effect of the first, none of them missed, strictly speaking. But the fight was pressing in, and their armor was rebuking her best shots.

A quick glance showed that Piandao was already cutting out of the noose, likely at its thickest point. The sword in his hands was more an extension of his body than a chunk of metal. It flashed, black as the souls of the damned, and where it struck, death struck with it. Twenty three years ago, the Fire Nation sent a hundred men to humble Piandao. He'd beaten them all, and without taking a single life. The intervening years had burned away what kind heartedness stayed his hand that day. She watched as he deftly put the edge of that black blade to an incoming spear, and split the weapon effortlessly in half, the long way, before swiftly ending the weapon's bearer.

The two Tribesmen fought back to back, their spears keeping the Fire Nationals at bay. Only the arrival of a firebender which had slipped past Sativa's web of arrows saw them split. Hakoda outright hurled his own spear at the bender, and it gashed the man across the face quite deeply. The firebender, likely a conscript from the cries of pain and fear he now emitted, began to crawl away desperately. Since he was no longer a combatant, everybody ignored him. Except Sativa. One more arrow, and then, she could ignore him. He might be a conscript, but this was war. Mercy was in short supply, these days.

As quickly as the fight had begun, it lulled. The four shared glances. Glances, and surprised chuckles. While the short battle had emptied Sativa's quiver, the others were much better off. "Wait," Bato interrupted, dismay dawning on his face. "This must have been a scouting force. Don't they always travel in groups?"

"Five groups of twenty four," Piandao said with a nod. "That's the army's SOP. I can't speak for the navy."

"There's two dozen here," Hakoda pointed out with a sweep of a reddened spear. "Where are the others?"

"Where are your boats?" Sativa asked. "Did you leave them all down by the rocks?"

"No, that'd be idiotic," Hakoda answered. "We keep most of them up a stream which runs near the abbey."

"Then those are your only ships left," Sativa said. "They will have burned the ships at the rocks and now sweep up to find your men."

"I have to warn them," Hakoda said without any hesitation.

Bato forestalled Hakoda for a moment, and clapped the Chief on the shoulder. "Keep up the fight. It's been an honor, Hakoda."

"You say that as though you're not coming back," Hakoda said grimly.

"Oh, I'm coming back. I couldn't let you hog all the glory of fighting the Fire Nation to yourself, now could I?" Bato said.

"So I cannot convince you to stay?"

"Can you persuade better than the Dragon of the East?"

"Who could?" Hakoda said with a laugh. "Good luck, Bato. The battles will be cold without you."

Bato nodded and turned away, as Hakoda took up his spear and started toward the outside of the clearing, toward the abbey. "We should move quickly. This noose can trap us as well as it can my countrymen."

"I agree," Sativa said, having pointedly remained silent during the exchange between the two of them. It was a lesson she learned in her youth never to interfere with male-bonding. It tended to end with her waking up in a garbage heap with a bloody nose and a black eye. Or else, hung-over and with a town on fire. Needless to say, never well. "It is good to have you back, Bato."

"For whatever good it'll do," Piandao said unkindly. There was something going on there, which Sativa was unaware of. And with the way Piandao was staring daggers at the Tribesman, it was probably something she was going to have to deal with sooner than later. "Come on. We're wasting moonlight."

She was about to speak when she saw somebody move in the darkness. It was a figure wearing the same armor as his fellows, but painted over with accents of purple rather than black, and its helmet was eschewed in favor of a tilted hat. Her eyes went wide, and she clawed at an empty quiver, before her mind caught up with her hands and remembered that she was, for the moment, arrowless.

The Azuli Gurkha appeared out of silence, and darkness, and struck.

Bato was a true friend. Out of a thousand ways that the scene Sativa now beheld could have happened, nine-hundred ninety nine of them ended with Bato rushing between the Chief and the assailant, pushing the leader aside and taking the brunt of the cruel assault himself. But this time, this one time in a thousand, in a million, Bato was too many steps away from his fellow Tribesman. So there was nothing he could do but scream in alarm as the Gurkha cast out a grunt of angry effort, and a blast of flame smashed into Hakoda of the South Water Tribe.

The shadow in the blue lacquered mask erupted from the inflow pipe of the water systems, dripping wet from the fresh water, and well past when any normal person would have died of drowning in the confines of that pipe. It had been claustrophobic, but he was now past the innermost wall, and in the well of the inner bailey. The oni-mask peeked up above the rim of that well, and saw that the path was, in this moment clear. The shadow moved in the darkness, and the well was empty again.

This time, there was sound, because sound was inevitable as one scaled the wall. But the sound was just one of many sounds, as the entire fortress was starting to stir. The shadow with the mask turned toward the gates, which remained open, and peeked briefly into a window in the tower which rose up out of the center of the inner bailey. While soldiers were begrudgingly rising from their cots, they didn't seem to know why they were being summoned. Only that they were. That didn't bode well. But the shadow needed to go higher, in order to get where its quarry lay.

Another story up, and a larger window, this one with a balcony. The shadow paused before the doors, leaning over and listening at them.

"If I knew what had Zhao in such a snit, I'd tell you. But I don't. So I suggest you move before he comes down on you like a landslide. The man is drunk with power, and he's probably looking for any excuse to misuse it."

Colonel Shinu. Once a batman to one of the generals at the Fire Lord's court. Now a colonel of his own skill and merit. But somebody had usurped him, it seemed. Somebody named Zhao. Not news to the shadow, of course. For all his ascension was only a day old, the news of a new house in the Fire Nation court was spreading quickly.

"I worry about that man's mind," a dour, almost droopy voice said. "How much of what he reacts to is just what he wants to see?"

"Not my problem. If the Fire Lord gets tired of him, he'll be just as dead as the Loyo Lah's. It wouldn't be the first time Ozai crushed a noble house."

"I'm well aware," the second answered, and then there was a shuffling of footsteps, as one of them exited the room. Probably the second, which the shadow was unable to place or name. Nobody important, obviously. There was a creak of wood, as – most likely – Shinu lowered himself into his chair, and began to write. The shadow moved again, ducking through the light of the man's much smaller and commandeered quarters, creeping unnoticed behind the man's back. Zhao had taken Shinu's room, and everybody else went down a notch, leaving some poor lieutenant sleeping in the guard cots. Not the shadow's problem, though.

The man in the blue mask was almost to the door when he heard Shinu let out one dry chuckle. "Heh. Blue Spirit indeed. The man is mad."

A glance back. Shinu still was focused on his writing. Good. The 'Blue Spirit' ducked through the door and now ghosted the corridors. He knew where he would find his quarry... roughly. There were only a few places where one such as that could be kept.

A peek around a corner. Four firebenders. Difficulties obviously were going to ensue. They all stood at a intersection of four directions, and kept backs together. The Blue Spirit pondered for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh, and quickly bolted across that gap, even though what he wanted wasn't on the other side.

"Did you see that?"

"Obviously not. It's probably nothing, and if it isn't, the last thing we should do is split up."

The Blue Spirit hung his head. Great. Intelligent guards. The last thing he could have expected and the last thing he wanted to have to deal with. The Blue Spirit pondered briefly, trying to come up with a way past. Then he glanced up, and saw the lamp which hung in a sconce above the door. It was appropriate, in that moment, that the mask was grinning.

There was a long silence, and the four men stood vigil. Well, three of them did. One of them broke his focus, just long enough to let out a long, heavy yawn, rubbing his eyes and trying to fight the fatigue of a long day's work. Thus it was that when he finally looked up, with the padding of feet racing toward him, the Blue Spirit was almost upon him. The intruder hurled a bag before him, and a huge gout of lantern oil splashed over all four, bringing out a shocked yelp from them, and then a panicked moment's freeze as they all realized as one that firebending would be an act of immediate suicide.

"Sound the al..."

The Blue Spirit cut off the cry by swinging the lantern itself down low and sweeping one off his feet, and then twisting it around again and clipping the three which remained across the sides and back of their heads. With the ground now slick under them, and the concussion sapping their balance, they all fell, directly atop the first one down. The Blue Spirit favored that one with a third and final blow with the now ruined lamp. A pile of four firebenders, no alarm, no fire. Excellent. He started down a path, to his objective.

Aang struggled against his bonds again, before slumping. It was of no use. He was well and truly stuck. But as he fought, something wormed its way out of his pocket, defying gravity and leverage themselves to do so. Aang raised a brow when he heard a hard clack on the floor. He leaned down, and beheld the Jade Toe had fallen... and that it was pulsing and throbbing, like a tiny heart. A faint green light shone from the stone.

What the heck is this, Aang thought?

There was a sound like a bubble popping, and the light from the Jade Toe went dead.

The Blue Spirit looked down the pathway he chose, but then hesitated. Something wasn't right. No, there was an impulse, a drive which told him 'this isn't the way'. 'What you want isn't down here'. And he couldn't understand that impulse, but neither could he deny it. After all, there was a saying about luck...

The Blue Spirit turned away from that path, and chose another. This one was long, and obviously intended to be guarded in force. Why it was not was somewhat baffling, actually. The Blue Spirit tilted his head slightly at the sight. There must not have been anybody in there. Otherwise, the guard would have been legendary of size and strength. But still, that little niggling voice in his mind demanded of him, no reason not to check, to be absolutely sure. Absolute surety was a valued commodity.

The door was unlocked, which further pushed doubt into the Blue Spirit's mind. But the door opened with a loud clack, as the bolt popped back into its locked position the moment it was clear of the threshold. So the lock had simply malfunctioned. Still, not hopeful. The Blue Spirit shook his head, and then pushed the door open fully. And then, even the grinning oni face seemed to gape.

As now, the Blue Spirit was sharing the room with the Avatar in chains.

Aang stared at the floor for a long moment, trying to figure out why that little green stone did that weird pulse of light thing, but he scarcely had a moment to consider it before he heard something shifting at the other end of the room. The heavy, thick metal door swung open, and there was a man standing there. He wore all blacks and dark colors, but for the mask on his face. It grinned like a blue demon, and its eyes were pits of uninterrupted blackness. Aang quickly found himself surging back, as that man just stared, its thoughts and emotions inscrutable.

He could be considering to kill the Avatar.

He could be considering to free him.

There was a hiss of iron, as the black gloved hands reached behind him. Obviously the choice had been made, and the man began to race forward, drawing out a curved saber. A flick of those hands, and the weapon seemed to divide into two, which flashed in the unkind red light, as the man advanced, implacable as death. Aang didn't even have the capability to scream, for the rigging on his head, as those blades flashed forward.

And with a clang, Aang found his arms dropping to his sides, the tingling numbness of their confinement turning into a sort of burning pain. He looked down at his hands, saw that they were now a livid red, and that the manacles were now sundered of their chains just past the wrist. Aang looked up, and still couldn't see the look of that man's face for the oni mask. But he'd made his decision, and Aang wasn't about to look a gift Ostrich Horse in the beak. Especially after a pair of lightning strikes to the ankles and to the sides of Aang's jaw removed the rest of the gear which had bound him.

Aang worked his jaw for a very long moment, resulting in an unpleasant cracking sound just once, but he managed to get his tongue into a comfortable place in his mouth, and the sensation was far more pleasant than his hands had been. "Who are you?" Aang asked, grateful to be able to breathe properly again, let alone speak.

The Blue Demon turned and walked toward the door, not a word said. Not a sound made, either. Aang limped over, trying to shake feeling into his sleeping left foot and his numbed hands. "Wait, where are you going?" Aang asked, as the man took an immediate turn. While there wasn't a single whit of utterance, Aang could almost feel like the Blue Demon was kicking himself for heading the wrong direction. "How do I get out of here?" Aang asked. The Blue Demon abruptly leveled the rejoined blades down a hallway, which was decorated with hogtied, oily firebenders. "What, aren't you going to help me leave?"

A terse shake of the head. Then, he was striding away again. Aang looked down at the firebenders, up at the Blue Demon, and then back at the room he had been held in. A more cynical person would have taken the opportunity to leave, without a question asked or needed. Aang was not cynical. But he had made a promise, so he quickly loped back into the prison, and picked up the Jade Toe from the floor of that room. It felt... oddly warm. Like somebody had left it in a fire overnight, and then picked it out after the fire had gone dead and ashen. One good turn deserved another. Whatever that Blue Demon came here for, he'd find he was getting the Avatar's help in it. Aang pocketed the stone once more, then took off after the man with the swords and the blue oni mask.

He woke from a dream of fire and pain. It was really unfair that he felt pain in his dreams. He hadn't used to. But as the layers of nightmare and laughing of burned-faced men faded, that pain remained... albeit in a much reduced form. Sokka slowly shifted, forcing himself to a sit. It didn't help that his entire body felt like it had been whipped when he did so. He glanced down, and let out a mild, hoarse grunt when he saw that those nightmares hadn't just been figments of a tired mind. Tui La, that had really happened, hadn't it? That Winter Solstice and invading the Fire Nation and getting more than mildly barbequed had happened!

Which raised a valid question: How the hell was he still alive?

He held his arm closer to his eyes, and took in the burns. They looked old, like weeks old and properly healed. How long had he been out? He twisted, half-crawling over to a window, finding instead that a missing wall sufficed, and peeking up at the moon. It was not just in its same phase, but all the stars seemed to belie his first guess, which was that he'd been comatose for a while. It was for reasons like this which Sokka had to create the Tribesman's Corollaries; for the law of parsimony, for example. When the simplest explanation didn't actually answer the question being asked, it was time to accept the absurd.

But how absurd would he have to go?

"Momo?" Sokka asked, as the little creature let out a lively chirp. "I need water. Go get Katara."

The little meat-thing tilted its head at Sokka like he was making an unfunny joke. It was lucky that Aang declared Momo off-limits for Sokka's diet. Well, doubly so. Lemurs probably weren't very good eating. They looked... stringy. The beast let out a last screech, then bounded over to where Katara was sleeping.

No, not sleeping. Sokka's eyes widened a bit when he saw that his sister's pallor was almost grey. "Katara, what's going on?" he croaked.

Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw that he was staring down at her, she smiled just a little bit. "It's alright," she whispered, her voice almost gone. "I'm... a good sister."

"Of course you are," Sokka agreed, the fear plain in his tone. "Momo, go get water now!"

The beast immediately flapped away, leaving Sokka alone with his terror, and the barely conscious form of his obviously dying little sister.

Tui La, but this was a familiar, terrifying helplessness.

Azula stared at what she'd made. Usually, when she made her works, it was half-distracted, almost like her hands were writing all on their own. This time, she wasn't even herself. The veil had only pulled back after the work was complete, and she really didn't know what to make of it. It was an old woman and a burned, bald man engaged in obvious mortal conflict. The aged woman – who seemed to have an odd blue glow to her – was being strangled by the old man – who was likewise also oddly glowing, but in oranges. She was battered and bleeding, one eye swollen shut. But the scene showed that she was an instant from winning; her fist held a dagger which was being punched through the old man's liver.

Needless to say, she was somewhat baffled about the whole thing.

Since staring at the painting didn't seem to help her, she took a moment to rewash her hair. She hated when the veil moved forward. It was just so... hopeless. Helpless and cruel and unfair. She hated that she lost control. She hated that she couldn't focus, that she could decide who she was from moment to moment. But more than all of that, she hated that she was right here, right now. Oh, she was going to give Zhao such a greater scar to punish him for this.

Although, a little part of her mind asked her, why didn't you do that instead of just breaking his nose?

Azula didn't have an answer for that question.

The door swinging open broke her from her harmful and unpleasant introspection. There was somebody standing at the door, and it wasn't Zhao. In fact, it wasn't anybody that Azula could immediately identify, dressed in dark colors and bearing a blue oni mask. She immediately threw herself out of her seat, her hands raising up in a firebending stance. "Are you here to kill me? Better than you have tried."

The Blue Spirit just stared at her for a moment, almost as though trying to come to a decision. But that hesitancy was short lived, as he moved silently around the room, with her lance-like fingers tracking him every step of the way, until he was beside the bracket which held her foot's manacle to the wall. A slash of the dao, and the chain fell from the bracket, and Azula couldn't help but feel slightly confused by the whole situation. There were very few who were trained in such use of the Dao. Only two she could think of, off the top of her head, and one of them was Zuzu, whom she discounted instantly. Her goon of a brother never looked like this. "...Piandao? Is that you?" she asked. The Blue Spirit paused, then moved closer and struck at the chain much closer to her ankle, before skulking away. It had to be him. Nobody else was skilled enough to infiltrate this fortress without raising an alarm.

The amount of time she spent wondering what the traitor Piandao wanted with her free from Zhao was cut short by a bell starting to ring, and soon, a general alarm siren joined it. So much for without alarm.

Piandao, if that was who this truly was, motioned urgently with his twinned blades, and Azula smirked the smirk she was infamous for. Well, not infamous. Not even really noticeable, really. It was odd how infrequently she got recognized, even in colonies of her own nation. And she didn't know why... or why that bothered her. She fought the confusion and grabbed her art from the desk. She really didn't feel like having to reproduce this, so better to keep it. "Fine. Lead on, swordsman."

He lead through the halls at respectable speed, for all he was practically as silent and invisible as a ghost. Azula knew that her duty was to report Piandao to the Fire Nation, to have him arrested and the sentence of death that had been levied upon him carried out. But she was smarter than that. He was a master swordsman, and apparently a skilled infiltrator. Who better to have as a secret ally? "You had a great deal of bravery to come for me. And I do not forget when somebody does me favor," she began, but his hand reached up and clapped over her mouth, a brisk shaking of the head following. She started to go red, at the insult of his common hand upon her, but after a second or so, she started to hear the approach of men at arms. Many of them.

The swordsman quickly pulled Azula into the alcove of an inset door, most likely the bulkhead of a pitch repository. He then moved before her, shielding her bright and garish clothing with his own drab and dark outfit. It wasn't much, but between the natural darkness and the short but sufficient distance between the firebenders and the escapists, it was enough that none spotted them. She felt a particular smirk come to her face when she saw Zhao, face red as the scar on his left eye, came stomping past them both.

"Where is she? She'll know where he is," he called.

"We can't find her, Lord Zhao."

Lord Zhao, Azula pondered? How had that happened? Only Father had the authority to make that kind of pronouncement, and he surely wouldn't do so to impatient, incompetent, insufferable Zhao. But that line of internal questioning was likewise cut off, when Piandao dragged her away from the door, behind the soldiers' backs, and swiftly around a corner.

"What? What do you mean, you can't find her?" Zhao roared.

"She's not here. The guard is missing, sir."

There was a sound of fire hitting the air, and a panicked, clipped scream which petered out into mild cursing. "I do not tolerate failure. She has been taken by an enemy of the Fire Nation, to deprive us of her gifts. Find her. Find the Avatar and find Azula, NOW!"

"The Avatar is here," Azula whispered, as the notion returned to her. How it had slipped her mind was unthinkable. She had to be more focused in the future. Better able to catch all the little details. After all, she didn't have Mai to depend on for that anymore. "We need to..."

Piandao turned back to her, and that grinning oni almost seemed to take on a disapproving look. It slowly shook, left, right, then back to left, before forcefully pulling her onward. So he was here for her specifically, was he? Why? "What are you doing this for? Who do you work for?" she demanded of him. He didn't deign to answer in any way. "Wait... you and Zhao butted heads in the past, haven't you? Is this a petty revenge for his slights?"

There was a shake of the shoulders, almost like a stifled laugh.

"Well, if this is petty revenge, I for one would enjoy to see you with vigor and purpose," she offered. "I have use for somebody like you. Come. Work with me. I will bring down the Avatar and return to the Fire Nation in triumph! You can join us, and your sins will be expiated!" she lied. Well, not so much lying, as not bothering to mention that she'd probably abandon him as soon as her keel hit black sand. The blue mask gave a half glance toward her, then let out an audible sigh, the first vocalization that she'd heard from the thing.

Finally, she was brought to the door of a low-ranking officer's room. Piandao gave a motion to her, to remain still and silent. As if. He then pushed the door open abruptly. Even before she could move through the gap to make a decent showing of herself, he had caught the half-drawn blade of Colonel Shinu under an armpit, and levered the man's head down into the desk, stunning him. Then, with a twist, spun the man into his own wardrobe. Piandao kicked the doors shut, then heaved hard on the top of its minimal facade, causing the whole rig to topple onto its doors, trapping the man within.

"I can see why Grandfather sent a hundred after you. And I can see why they failed," she said, with honey-tones. Better to draw people like him in. Obsequiousness seldom worked with the rank and file, but 'honest' appreciation? But before she could start moving in, laying it on with an appropriate thickness, he raised one halting finger at her. He then tore down the drapes of coarse, common fabric, and tied them to the rail of the balcony. A significant nod, toward that now dangling sheet, was obviously the direction he intended. She sighed, that smirk falling away and leaving her expression slightly frustrated, more than anything else, and she descended down the makeshift rope. She still ended up well short of the ground, though.

Above her, Piandao came to a halt, and then reached down, taking her hand from the 'rope', before sliding until he was at its bottom, and she dangling below him. Then, at his third nod, she felt herself released. It was child's play to land with grace. After all, she had played with Ty Lee all the time as a kid. Even as she quickly pushed herself back to her feet, and flattened back against the wall, she wondered why she was thinking about old and lost friends at a time like this. That pondering was cut short when, with a soft paff, Piandao landed beside her. He glanced toward her, that blue grinning mask as inscrutable as ever, and pointed at the gates. Obviously, he had taken a way in which he couldn't replicate on the way out.

This was going to get messy.

Azula took off at a sprint toward that gate. Not for the first time, she was glad for the physique she had cultivated. She doubted any woman in the world could sprint with such speed and vigor, at least not without cheating or being Mai. But even then, she started to hear voices ahead, calls to close the gates, and the three great gates of the baileys began to rumble closed. She reached them just as they'd slid just far enough that an attempt to pass through them would see her crushed into paste. She came to a skidding halt, and levied a scarlet-flamed kick at the things, more out of frustration than any realistic attempt to damage them. She then turned, and saw that Piandao had drawn those swords once more, as the entire garrison, it seemed like, had come pouring out of the tower, and started to surround the Princess and the Traitor.

The headache was a pleasant distraction from the unkind tingling of his arm and chest. If nothing else, it helped him keep from keeling over into sleep, which he desperately wanted, but knew he couldn't afford to partake. After all, his sister was... well, no better way to put it, than his sister seemed to be dying.

"You shouldn't have done that," Sokka muttered, his voice a rasp. "You should have taken him to the North Pole. What am I going to do at the North Pole? It was your dream, sis," Sokka shook his head, and felt himself overbalancing just for the effort of that. He might be upright... sort of... but he was weak as a kitten. After a moment's consideration, he altered that estimation. Most kittens would beat the hell out of Sokka right now.

The flutter of wings announced a new arrival to the lean-to where the two Water Tribe siblings were sheltering from the driving wind and heat lightning. No rain, though. Not so much as a drop. Sokka looked up, and saw Momo was staring down with those relatively huge green eyes. It let out a chatter, then hopped down before Sokka and dropped a rusty key-ring, gangling with keys, in front of Sokka. Sokka looked down at the fob, then up at the little critter.

"No, Momo. Water. Waaaaa...terrrrr," Sokka said. Momo blinked swiftly, then bounded out the window again. "I'm starting to think he's not as smart as we give him credit."

"What now, swordsman?" Azula shouted, as the soldiers began to press in. It was obvious that they were just preparing their courage, and readying their crossfire, to vaporize them where they stood. The swordsman, though didn't answer, although a sound somewhat like a weary sigh did come from that grinning blue mask. "If you've got some cunning plan, you might want to share it!"

The intruder shook his head slowly. But no sooner had he, that a great wind began to tear and buffet against the two renegades, twisting and tearing, and hauling upwards in an oddly specific and tremendously surprising tornado. Even Azula, composed as she was, couldn't help but let out a scream of confused, panicked alarm. The tornado ended as abruptly as it began, just high enough that both of them would be spat out onto the top of the gate of the inner bailey. She immediately shot a glance at the swordsman, who was like her, pushing himself off the stone. "I demand to know how you did that."

"He didn't," Aang said from about three steps behind her. "I did."

She spun with a shriek and a wave of fire. Aang let out his own clipped scream of surprise. Hadn't he just saved her life? He split it apart with his airbending, but Azula looked to be readying another. To the relief of the airbender, and probably the benefit of all of them, the swordsman stepped between them with an angry grunt and a furiously shaken head. He slapped Azula's hands down, then pointed from Aang, to himself, then to her, and finally into the distance. "I think he's saying that either we all leave, or none of us do," Aang offered.

"Don't be preposterous. He would never work with the Avatar!" Azula spat. "And neither will I!"

"Why not?" Aang asked, honestly and earnestly. "I just want to help you. There's no reason that this war has to make us enemies."

"There is EVERY reason this war makes us enemies!" Azula railed. Then, she stopped, and seemed to tilt her head at him, hearing something else that he couldn't hear. Her expression became quite dour. "Oh, that is not going to stand, Avatar. You think you can trick me? You think you can bribe me? You have nothing I want."

"Freedom," Aang offered, noting the manacle still attached to Azula's ankle. "Air Nomads can't stand being confined. I'm fairly sure that you can't either."

"I have a lot of experience with it," Azula said flatly, and hotly.

"Why can't we just work together to get out of here, and then we can –" Aang began, but was cut off when he could see people starting to race along the walls, surrounding them on both sides. "No time! Jump!"

The Blue Spirit grabbed ahold of Azula and, drawing a second squawk of alarm out of Azula in a single day, hurled the both of them into the open air on the other side of the wall. Aang fell with them. There was no bale of hay, nor pool of water to soften their landing. Only the hard and unrelenting stone. Which was why Aang cast down a ball of compacted air below them. It still felt like they were jumping off a cliff, but landing on a stack of mattresses, rather than onto jagged rocks.

"Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again," Azula hissed. If Aang didn't know any better, he could have sworn the swordsman was chuckling at that. At this point, though, the alarms grew louder as the shouting of men and women's voices began to pierce the night. And with them, came the first of the arrows. It was the swordsman, oddly enough, who deflected the first of them, with the blades in his hands. Whoever this guy was, he was good with swords, Aang considered.

"We've got to go!" Aang shouted, grabbing Azula's hand and tugging her forward. The gate ahead was closed, like the one behind them, and it was manned besides. Aang knew he could get to the summit of it on his own with almost no problem. The tricky bit was that he now had two people he needed to get up with him. He felt Azula yank her hand out of his.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Azula, please," Aang pleaded, breaking off with a yelp and dodging aside a bristling of arrows that struck the ground where he'd paused. "We're going to get shot to pieces out here! We've gotta go!"

"I'll find my own way out," she said stubbornly, glaring at the Avatar.

"Show of hands. Who thinks Azula can make it out alone?" Aang asked. Azula's hand shot up. Nobody else's did. Most notably not the hundreds of people now hurling spears and firing arrows at them. "I think you've been outvoted. Now come on! You can try to kill me later!"

"Well, if you put it that way," Azula said sarcastically, but he grabbed her hand again and began to run. She was quick, he had to give her that, but when it came to running, nobody could outpace a person for whom wind-drag was a non-issue. Of course, Aang began to flag when he noticed that the Blue Spirit was getting waylaid, as soldiers began to move in from all sides, surrounding him and cutting him off. No, no this wasn't going to happen.

"Stay with him," Aang said, "I'll be back in a second."

"Oh, so first you want me to run, and now you want me to stay?" she asked. "Can't you Nomads ever make up your mind?"

Aang didn't bother arguing the point, opting instead to release her without another word said and rush toward the object he'd just barely managed to notice, and all the better for it. A glance over Aang's shoulder showed that she had, indeed, moved to the Blue Spirit's side, and was now adding crimson flame to flashing white steel. But all the fire and precision blades in the world couldn't stem the tide of the soldiers who forced inward in an inexorable wave. They were going to be buried and crushed, it was just a matter of attrition and time.

So Aang sought to break that deadly stalemate, so he grabbed one of the long, bamboo wrought besieging ladders from one of many wagons parked in the middle bailey. A more calm and collected head would have asked why there was so much materiel here, and so many wagons empty but for a single layer of dull metal sheets, but Aang was busy, and distracted. He hefted the ladder with a small amount of difficulty. While the weight of the thing was manageable, the heft was brutally unwieldy. He hobbled over the the wall, and planted one end of it firmly against the base of the wall. He gave a glance at the slowly losing duo, then twisted the other end of the ladder, sending a shockwave of airbending along with it. The thing snapped over with much the same finesse and control of a glider staff, if one which was about a hundred feet long. The impact of that wind hitting the Fire Nation soldiers sent no few of them flying. The only reason Azula and the Blue Spirit didn't was because they had seen it coming, and hurled themselves flat on the ground. As the other soldiers started to blearily pick themselves up, Aang shouted back at the Fire Nation Princess and the Emancipator. "Grab onto the end and hold on TIGHT!" he screamed. They only had one chance at this, after all. He had to do it right.

After a moment of preparation, Aang chopped with his hand, carefully but quickly forming a wedge of air under the ladder and sending it screaming toward him. He'd never done airbending like this before. This was advanced work. It was easy to generate wind of a certain shape and send it away, but to shape it and then draw it in? That was a whole other sort of bending. One he wasn't even aware he was capable of. As the wedge of air slammed closer, it levered the ladder upward, with its two passengers clinging for dear life at the top. Finally, the wind slammed into and around him, bringing the ladder to perfectly parallel the wall... before the weight at the top snapped the thing just at the wall's height and hurled both of the riders down onto the top of the battlements.

Aang looked up with a moment of wonder. Oh, if only Elder Gyatso could have seen him now! Even surly old Tengeh would have been pleased with bending like that! Of course, Aang's reverie was short lived, because in the moments it took him to finally believe that Azula and that other man were alright, the firebenders and soldiers were closing in on him from all sides.

"Surrender and face the Fire Lord's justice!" one of them shouted.

Aang raised a finger, and then spoke. "Ah. Ah. Aahahah... CHOO!"

It wasn't a real sneeze, but the blast of air, straight down, was enough to send him soaring up through the air, as well as knock the first row of fighters below into the second. Aang landed with a degree of poise on the stone, a sarcastic quip on his lips, but it was short lived, as he had to hurl himself backwards to avoid being spitted by a spear.

"You're late!" Azula noted, before slapping aside a spear thrust and punching into the soldier's throat. The man went down in a heap, clutching at his neck. Man, that had to have hurt. The Blue Spirit, though, spent the moments knocking prone anybody who tried to encroach on either Aang or the Fire Nation Princess.

"Only one wall to go!" Aang said, as he started to wonder how he was going to cross this one last wall, and reach freedom beyond it.

A chirrup tugged Sokka's attention back to the opening in the lean-to, as the lemur once again returned, and added yet another piece of random junk to the impressive pile which now spread over much of the floor. "No, water. The drinking stuff," Sokka said, his voice much stronger now than it had been during the last time Momo tried, dropping a dead bumbleskunk on his lap. While foul-smelling, a quick skinning and it was dinner. Sokka leaned down to the creature, and mimed drinking, and realizing he was conversing with a lemur, changed that to lapping at something. The creature just tilted its head and chirped in confusion. "You know what, forget it," Sokka muttered.

He leaned back, poking the embers which were cooking the bumbleskunk and sighed. "Where are you, Aang?" he asked. Katara let out a quiet whimper, which hurt Sokka by osmosis. There wasn't anything he could do about it, though. He was getting stronger as Katara was getting weaker. A shake of his head brought something particular to his eye. At some point, during the many trips of the lemur, it had deposited a spy glass on the ground, and he hadn't noticed it. Sokka quickly scooped it up. There was a mark on its side in Huojian, which he slowly puzzled out. Unlike Katara, he actually bothered to learn the language. Mostly because all of the best science books were printed in the West. "Made in Grand Ember," he noted. "I wonder if that means its good? Ah, well, it's mine now."

The lemur chattered at Sokka for a little bit, but Sokka ignored it, opting instead to push aside his anxiety with a good bit of whittling. After all, it was about time he got himself a proper machete.

"What are you idiots doing?" Zhao roared as the doors between the middle and outer baileys slid open, letting him stomp across the outer, and toward the back of the ring of soldiers which was making a remarkably pathetic showing of themselves. His answer was cut off when a wave of them came sailing through the air and smashed down around him, leaving him untouched, but a scowl on his face which made his good eye match the burnt glower of his left.

"They tried to scale the outer wall. We burnt their rope," Kwon said flatly at Zhao's side. There was still a hell of a fight going on, as the soldiers tried to move in and fill the gap. The first one that Zhao saw was Azula, and she was fighting like a demon. It was odd to think that a firebender, one descended from the Royal House, no less, would hold herself in check so completely, pounding down her countrymen with nothing but her fists, knees, elbows, and feet. But at that, she was actually doing the most harm of all of them. While those thrown aside by the Avatar were numerous, they were back in the fight in a matter of moments. Those Azula put down stayed down, and likely would take days to recover, if not weeks.

But she wasn't firebending. Then, Zhao understood. She hadn't prophesied herself into Zhao's hands, which meant she thought it acting against destiny. She was wrong, of course, but still, she was a Fire National, and would not abide harming her own people. Ozai was wrong about her. She was no rebel. And when he finally convinced her of that, they would be unstoppable. Zhao took a quick sidestep to avoid another person the Avatar sent flying, and turned his attention to the masked swordsman.

Zhao knew more about this one than anybody but Azula. He knew where the Blue Spirit was going to be months from now, a wonderfully useful weapon. Whoever this fool was, if he didn't die here, then he would fall soon. Zhao would see to it personally. After all, he was an enemy of the Fire Nation. Just as much as was the Avatar. The Blue Spirit was, like Azula, moderating himself, striking with pommels and blade-flats, but never using the keen edge to spill scarlet across the stone. And somehow, he knew how to use those twisting dao blades to break through what firebending attacks the Avatar didn't account for. A deadly and devastating technique which Zhao had never seen the like of. He could think of only one such traitor who would have such skill.

"Keep pressing! Don't let them escape!" the general cry went up, and the fight redoubled, as the trio was pressed harder against the closed gates to the outside world. So close, and yet still, an eternity from freedom. The thought of it made Zhao smirk. But that smirk faded when he saw that Azula was beginning to fatigue, that the Avatar was slowing down and not as able to keep all harm from reaching her. Now, she was having to duck spears and blasts of fire herself, before counterattacking without such benefits. Zhao's cheek outright twitched when he saw one rogue weapon slip through her defences, and gash her along her upper ribs, eliciting a very clipped bark of pain from the girl before she favored the offender with a kick to the testicles.

"STOP!" Zhao roared. "Nobody hurts her! I want her unharmed!"

The soldiers stopped advancing, and the Blue Spirit took advantage, quickly grabbing Azula and raising one of those razor edges to her throat. Zhao glared at the blue masked foe, at those hollow, black, and impassive eyes. "What do we..." one of the men asked.

"Let them go," Zhao said grudgingly. Azula took a moment, just a moment, to glare at him, and wait... was that a smirk on her face?

"But sir, the Avatar..."

"I said let them go," Zhao said. He had Azula for a day. The Avatar for three hours. But he still had her words, her art, and her prophecy. And he knew where she would be in the future. Her prophecies painted quite the portrait of her own involvement in the coming year. Plenty of opportunity to capture her again. The soldiers dared not go against Zhao's order, and the great gates began to slide open. Zhao expected the Avatar to bolt away the instant there was enough room to accommodate him, but surprised Zhao by being the last one through, almost as though he were trying to protect their retreat.

Zhao turned away, and quickly ascended the stairs up onto the gate-house. He had been remarkably fit all of his life, and had brought it into middle age with great aplomb, so the ascent was swift and he wasn't even slightly winded when he arrived. Kwon was waiting for him up there, oddly enough. That man would either be the greatest batman that Zhao ever had, or else the most dangerous traitor to the Fire Nation's ranks, with the way he could predict Zhao's mind. Zhao actually hoped it was the first one, rather than the second. "They are getting away," Kwon said needlessly, and lethargically.

"Let them go... a little bit farther," Zhao said. Kwon nodded and raised a hand. Reading my mind again, Zhao thought. There was a creak of wood and sinew as the Yu Yan's bows drew taut, arrows nocked and on target. The Blue Spirit retreated, dragging the Princess with him at sword's edge, and the Avatar kept his eyes on the gates, so serious even in his youth as to seem daring the Fire Nation to follow him. "Do you have the shot?" Zhao asked. The Yu Yan closest to him squinted slightly, but didn't speak. Obviously not yet.

"He will turn his back soon," Kwon said. Zhao turned to him, and the even man shrugged. "He's a child. He doesn't know any better."

Zhao turned back, and noted that they were getting quite far away, all the way to where a pool of the storm's rain glittered near the path. The boy finally did turn, then, and seemed to be saying something to either the swordsman or the Princess. Zhao smirked, and nodded. Kwon lowered his hand, and there was a great snap of sinew, as a dozen and more arrows tore through the air.

"Alright, you can let her go now, we're safe," Aang said.

"I am, but you're not," Azula promised.

"Why do you want to capture me so much?" he asked.

"Because you are the enemy of the Fire Nation!"

"No I'm not! I just want this stupid war to end! I've got nothing against you or your people!" Aang stressed. He had to get her to see his side of things. It was important. "I'm telling you the truth."

"You're just lying to get me to lower my guard," Azula muttered. Aang glanced over his shoulder, as the gates before him dwindled in the distance.

"Why would I do that? I mean, that Blue Spirit of yours already has you under his swords. Why wouldn't I do whatever nefarious thing you expect right now?" Aang asked, proddingly.

"Because..." Azula said, and then trailed off. "There must be a reason. You must hate the Fire Nation. We killed your people!"

"You didn't. Your brother didn't. You're not the people who did that terrible thing," Aang said. He finally turned his back to the walls. "I know you're better than what you're afraid of. I don't hate you, Azula. I've had friends in the Fire Nation before. I don't see any reason why I can't have you for one, too."

"Then you are an idiot as well as a naïve child," Azula muttered, but her heart wasn't in it. She then looked up, golden eyes widening. A smirk came to her lips. Aang half turned, and could see the streaks of arrows tearing toward him. A lot of arrows. More than he could batter away with wind; one of them, at least, would get through. So he heaved up the water from the puddles, creating a wall of ice between he and the incoming missiles. The arrows struck that ice, their iron heads rupturing through... and then pushing further as a second slammed into the first... then fracturing the ice further as a third slammed right into the shafts of the two already embedded. In four separate places, this precision symphony of strike and restrike hit, until the entire body of ice crumbled.

Aang didn't see, but Azula had taken the moment of alarm to elbow the Blue Spirit very hard in the ribs, and spun her way out of his grasp. She twisted around behind him, and blue flames began to wreath her hand as she laughed, and two fingers came surging up, at Aang's back.

And then there was a great clack, as one of the arrows streaked past Aang's fallen ice wall and struck the Blue Spirit right in the mask. Doing so caused his head to twist back suddenly, and in turn caused him to headbutt Azula right in the temple. The Blue Spirit took a couple of staggering steps away, but Azula crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The Blue Spirit shook off that confusion, and turned down at the fallen girl, and for the first time, uttered a single, panicked word.

"Azula!" came the scream, in a voice Aang knew all too well. Aang looked back to the wall. It wouldn't be long until the second barrage came. He craned up his arms, and slammed down, driving up a huge billow of dust, concealing them completely from the fortress of Pohuai.

By the time it parted, and the Fire Nation soldiers reached its center, there was nobody there.

The boy was watching him the entire time. He hadn't said a word, which was a remarkable feat considering how he was the last time they'd interacted, or the first, but there were wheels turning in the Avatar's mind which he didn't particularly like. Finally, he closed his fist, and set Azula down in the hollow of an old tree's roots.

"It was a brave thing you did for your sister," Aang said simply. Zuko turned to him, then beckoned hard to one side. He hastily doffed the blue oni mask, as soon as he was out of eye and easy earshot of his little sister. "What? What's wrong with..."

"Not one word out of you," Zuko said coldly. "The only reason you're here and not chained up in Zhao's stronghold is because I went left first instead of right. Luck. That's all it is."

"Why didn't you hold me at swordpoint?" the Avatar asked. Zuko stared at the ground. "You are still trying to capture me, aren't you?"

Zuko just shook his head, and very quietly uttered. "And what would be the point?" Aang took a step back, confusion plain on his face. "I just wanted to make things right for Azula. Now I know I never can. So just go. Leave me alone."

"So you're on our side, now?" the Avatar asked hopefully. Zuko put out a bitter laugh, tugging at the neck of his clothes and stripping them away, revealing the light traveling clothes, all bright reds and stark blacks, concealed underneath.

"I won't tell her. I won't stop her from trying to capture you. You give her hope," he said bleakly. "I'm not going to take that from her. But... I'm tired. I'm so tired."

Aang had a profoundly sad look on his face. "You know, when I was younger, I had a friend in the Fire Nation called Kuzon. He and I got into so much trouble together. I'm pretty sure he was the best friend I ever had. Do you think, if we hadn't started like we did, that we could've been like that?"

Zuko looked up at the boy, so earnest, so honest, so hopeful. Give him a few years, and a father like Ozai, and see how well that held up. He felt a boiling envy, a hatred of that innocence, churning inside him. "Just go away," Zuko said harshly, fire beginning to drip from his hands, burning the gloves away completely. "I can't even look at you right now."

"I'm sorry," Aang said, as he started to back away. "About your sister. About everything."

"GO!" Zuko shouted. And with a rustle of wind, and a streak of orange and yellow, the boy was gone. There was still that burning in Zuko's soul, an anger he couldn't place or contain or really understand. He was angry at Father. He was angry at the world. He was angry at everybody and everything, because he couldn't help the one person who needed it the most. It wasn't fair. If he could have, he would have burnt the whole world down right this minute.

He moved to Azula's side, and took her hand, closing his eyes. He could remember another set of eyes, looking down at him as he was so tired, but just as resolute as now. The duty she had levied upon him, which he took with devotion and verve. She had been so proud. There were tears of more than parting sadness in her eyes. It was a final embrace which was burned into his memory.

"I know who I am," Zuko said, quietly. "I know who I am."

"Ugh."

"Azula?" Zuko said, face brightening, but not completely. There was still a shadow lurking inside him. "Are you alright? How did you get away?"

"Am... Where am I?" she asked, squinting even against the dark of near dawn. "Where did you come from?"

"I was trying to follow Zhao, to figure out where he'd taken you... And you were already here," Zuko lied, with all the heady optimism that such a lie demanded. "How did you do it, Azula? Did you sneak out when he wasn't looking? Or did you fight your way out? Should we weigh anchor now?"

"I..." Azula began, and then started to rub at her head, where a bruise was beginning to form. "My head hurts. I need... I want to go back to the ship, now."

"Of course, Zuli, I'll get you home."

"Don't call me Zuli," his little sister said testily. And that brought a relieved smile to Zuko's face. Yes, there was no end-goal anymore... but he could live for her hope. That would be enough.

Wouldn't it?

Aang forced the bulb past Katara's tongue. Most likely due to the sliminess of it, it slipped down easily. She made a sour face, but didn't respond much beyond that. Sokka, though, was practically back to his usual form, if with an odd, bubbly texture to the skin of his chest and arm. He was contentedly munching on some fragrant meat when Aang arrived, and hadn't halted in the slightest as Aang applied the medicine. And not rectally, as it was recommended. He didn't have it in him to do that, at the moment.

After a few moments, Katara's pallor began to change from sallow grey to a more healthy brown, and Aang let himself relax, hurling himself onto the thick, padded fur of Appa's tail. Sokka finally leaned back to him, experimentally cutting the air with a newly whittled machete. "So, Aang, did you make any new friends?" Sokka asked, still watching the fire.

Aang looked over to him. There was a cornucopia of junk surrounding the Tribesman which hadn't been there before, but he seemed to take it with aplomb, so Aang didn't press. He thought hard, trying to figure out what the whole thing with Zuko and Azula meant. Finally, he let out a weary sigh, and rolled over onto his far side, facing the wall.

"I really don't know," Aang said. And then, there was relative silence, but for the popping of a low fire. Well, almost silence, for it was broken by the other Tribesman froggily muttering:

"Tui La... what the hell did you make me eat?"

I believe the term for Zhao, in this story at least, is the Knight of Cerberus. He's the bastard that gets brought in to let you know that shit's takin' a turn for the worse. Between Azula's 'advice', and his own humbling by an object of devotion (her, obviously), he's... not more cautious, but less stupid about the decisions he makes. And there's nothing more dangerous to a protagonist than a villain who refuses to be stupid. Speaking of Villains, not all of the Children are kidnapped. Some of them are viable war orphans of soldiers in the Fire Nation. Kori might be the only waterbender amongst them, but Yoji is hardly the only firebender. Hisui and Hai, the shamans that he has, are both Nationals, for example.

As for Nila, she is not a shaman. Period. But her twin is; thus, there is a connection between the two of them on a spiritual level. When Sharif dreams his way unconsciously into the Spirit world, he unwittingly drags Nila with him. The other side of that was that since the Spirit world is pretty frickin' big, they've never encountered each other in it. Thus it's Sharif's fault that Nila had to be desensitized to horrible pain and terror. Whoops.

The funny thing is, I've realized that, while there are two independant nails to consider (one of them very recent, one of them very ancient), only one of them will get revealed to the reader by the end of this 'book'. The other, if it is directly addressed at all, won't be included in text until 'book 3' (IF I REACH IT!) so I'm just going to state it outright rather than force people to wait years for what might not come. One nail is obvious, and has far reaching effects of its own. Azula is sick. Why bears exploring, but because of it, Zuko values his Uncle's opinion more, is on much better terms with his family, and had the backbone to fight his father. Because of Zuko's humiliation of Ozai (landing even the glancing blow was a hell of an upset), and the lack of a viable heir, Ozai has much, MUCH less political clout than Canon Ozai. Because he has less clout, he's forced to take a more direct hand in most things, and he shifted the war from against the Earth Kingdoms, to against the Water Tribe, thinking them easy meat.

The other nail was more than a century before that. Roku and Sozin's first fight got a bit more bitter than in canon, and because of that, he shirked one of his responsibilities as Avatar. And because of that, by the time Aang was born, things were already changing for the worse throughout the worlds. It's not an ancient, unspeakable evil behind Malu's uvula. It's quite speakable, as the story will illucidate, and it's actually a few years younger than King Bumi. But enough of this. I've got to figure out how I'm going to write Teo in noir style.