A/N: this time I had to post without the help of my lovely beta-reader Seleina Bellamy (for now). So, no matter how many times I've read this chapter, there's sure going to be some kind of grammar/lexicon mistake. If you notice anything, I'll be glad if you let me know :)

Chapter VII – Real work

Katara fixed her small wolf tail and her clothes—her brother's clothes—before she walked out, in the light of the dawning sun. Sokka had said they would head together to the gathering, but he was nowhere to be seen, and Katara didn't want to be late on the first day.

The wide clearing on the outskirts of the camp was teeming with what had to be the great majority of the troops. Katara made her way through the crowd, and only settled when she neared the first few rows, hoping to get a better view from there. The time for the appointment had come and the ranks were quickly arranging into a neater shape; Prince Zuko and his officials were expected to appear at any moment. Katara looked around nervously, still hoping to spot Sokka. Instead, she found Jet standing by her side—sure he wasn't happier than she was, judging from the quick look he gave her. She looked away.

She noticed most of the recruits had settled in separate groups based on their nation. Forcing herself out of an initial hesitation, Katara stepped out and found her place in the first row of the Water Tribe troop. Being surrounded with blue again immediately felt bizarre, rather than anything else she expected.

The Fire Nation recruits caught her attention as soon as her eye fell upon them. It was the first time she saw Fire Nation soldiers after years, as her tense fists immediately reminded her. And yet, it was different from what she remembered. They were out of armors, and for the most part they were all young and supposedly inexperienced—but that was not all about it. Katara saw the faces of these boys—the children of those who had killed her mother—and, simply, she didn't see monsters. They were not attacking her like her nightmares would do every night—of course they weren't. They were barely looking at her. And they were talking to each other, laughing, and joking...

Allies, her mind suggested. She bit her lip. She saw a fine line between an ally and an enemy, and that always bothered her.

Humans. For now, that sounded much better.

Her thoughts were silenced when everyone around her seemed to assume a steadier stance. She just did the same.

The Prince stood before them, wearing a crimson and maroon kimono, locks of black hair falling over his eyes. No crown, no armor either. His face looked just as hardened as the day before—though in the sunrise, Katara thought she noticed the paleness of his skin merge with the morning light and his face beam in a slight way.

A smaller group of people had followed him. Among the rear lines, Katara glimpsed elaborated military garments and armor pieces of blue, red, green—the highest ranking officials of all three nations. The first row, instead, caught her attention—it was made of older men, each with a different gleam to their eyes from that of the soldiers standing with them.

Katara recognized the kind old man the Prince had called his uncle, and he was smiling like a good, warm breakfast had just restored his harmony with the universe.

On his left, a little deatched, stood another man who caught Katara's attention. Dark robes, emerald eyes, long limbs and thin mustache; his gaze seemed to linger attentively on everything passing before his eyes, not a glimpse of emotion slipping through. When they met Katara's for a moment, they got her flinching a bit.

"Good morning, everyone." The prince's gruff salute was followed by a loud answer from his soldiers.

"Excuse me... sorry." Katara's eyes instantly pinned on those of her brother, who was making his way to her side.

The prince stared in their direction. "You're late, soldier."

"I know. I apologize, Sir," Sokka said out of breath.

"This is the last time we're tolerating latecomers to the morning assembly," the prince replied dryly. "You can all call me just Prince Zuko, by the way," he added a few instants later.

A short silence followed.

"For anyone who doesn't know yet, we're here because a new, dangerous enemy is threatening the Earth Kingdom," prince Zuko resumed. His stern expression could have conveyed confidence, if not for that vague shade of bitterness that wouldn't abandon his traits and his burnt skin. "The Earth King wanted new recruits at any cost, and here they are. However, chances are we won't have to enter the fight. "

Katara heard some people groan and mumble objections between their teeth, while others were sighing in relief. She held her breath.

"Still, I was given three weeks to complete your training, and trust me—I will. Just because you're only here as reserves, don't think for a second we will spare you anything."

"I don't think you're in the position to teach anything to any of us."

The words had flown out clear and blunt, and they were certainly not being regretted. Katara stared at Jet, then at Sokka. Her brother just looked quite surprised—everyone did—still Katara fought herslef not to sympathize with Jet for that.

The prince said nothing, but he wouldn't resume his speech.

Katara didn't realize until then her eyes were resting on that same electric, cold emerald gaze she had escaped before. She escaped again.

"You're about my age and you're in charge of an army," Jet continued, with a smirk. "Must be a lot easier when you have a crown on your head, right?"

"You're a soldier. Learn that you're not allowed to speak without permission." Zuko tried to act cool, though his voice betrayed him.

Jet sniggered. "Funny how, with all your family has done to us, you're still the one to make the rules. Isn't it?"

The prince's face was now livid, his nose a few inches away from Jet's. Jet, for his part, didn't bat an eyelid, and Katara felt an unwanted rush of admiration for him.

"Now listen, you filthy-"

"Prince Zuko."

The prince didn't finish his phrase.

The reprimand that had resonated behind him made he step away from Jet, whose ferocious gaze, however, didn't leave his opponent.

"Now listen carefully, everyone." Zuko finally resumed, and crossed his arms on his chest. "Every morning, from now on, you will come here at sunrise. Benders shall train under the guidance of the Masters." The older men lined up behind him all bowed in greeting. "You will have intensive sessions every day to practice your bending skills and master your element," the prince continued, and as he spoke, Katara kept her eyes fixed on the only waterbending master who caught her attention—she would have known his face from yards away. It was Master Pakku, standing upright with a look that was somewhere between indifference and peeve, aimed at no one in particular. Katara had to keep her knees from suddenly collapsing.

"But first," she heard the prince talking, "just because you can bend, don't think that means you can just skip the basics. Because that's where my job starts."

Katara swallowed and tried to look away from Pakku—if she kept staring at him so insistently, there was a good chance he would notice her, sooner or later. Her anguish was momentarily soothed when the Masters bowed and left the clearing. Only a small group of people didn't move, and Pakku was fortunately not one of them.

"Your Highness."

It was that man with emerald eyes again, who had come to the prince's side, and was now talking to his ear, his lips barely moving at all.

"I think the time has come to start our practice."

The prince nodded slowly, and turned to his audience. "Get ready for the first test, because we're starting right now."

A test? Since she had left home, Katara had known she wasn't prepared for anything she was running into. A test, though, was definitely not in her plans.

Only when she distractedly brought her attention back to the prince, she found his shirt had gone. Disguised as she was, or maybe because of it, she couldn't help shifting her weight awkwardly and found herself looking away.

"Step forward, Water Tribe."

Katara gasped and held her breath. Then, she glimpsed Sokka make a move with the corner of her eye.

"What's your name?"

"Sokka," he answered plainly.

"Sokka. What is that?"

It took everyone a while to figure out the prince was looking over Sokka's shoulder, where his favourite weapon stuck out.

"This?—this is my trusty boomerang." He handed it to the prince with a smile, Katara knew just how unwillingly.

"Water Tribe war manufacture," the prince commented, seemingly to himself. "You won't need this today, though."

Sokka shrugged. "I would have left it home—but it always comes back to me."

Katara rolled her eyes at the predictable joke; a few giggles that followed were quickly interrupted by a gesture by prince Zuko, who was walking away with the boomerang, to Sokka's increasing dismay. "Well, Sokka," he smirked mildly from the middle of the clearing, "This time, I wouldn't be so sure about it."

Sokka was too confused to reply; instead, he focused on watching Zuko stick the boomerang into the ground, then step back.

Shortly after, the earth was shaking. Katara stared at her feet in confusion, and instinctively grabbed Sokka's arm. The whole army took a step back, feeling a shadow spread over their heads. Katara then looked up again. The boomerang now shined on top of a massive cliff, that had just sprung out from the depths of the earth.

Zuko's voice broke the silence. "Thanks, Master Ren." An unnoticed, tall man in green robes bowed gently, the usual Earth Kingdom manner.

Everyone craned their neck to stare at the summit of the steep slope, its upper portion cut across by the sunlight.

"Go get it back, Sokka," the prince said then, a slight curve on his lips.

Well, he's got a chance, was Katara's first thought, he is quite good at climbing.

Instead, Sokka hesitated for a moment and stared at the cliff, probably trying to figure out if there was any trick he was expected to find, to get to the top with no effort. Bodies pressed to one another and whispers intensified, as the rest of the recruits behind Katara were apparently trying to find the solution on their own.

Then, suddenly, everyone shuddered when Sokka dashed towards the cliff, frantically grasping every nub his palms would meet on its surface.

"Wait, soldier. Not so fast."

The prince calling him forced Sokka to stop where he was.

He turned inquiringly, as waiting for Prince Zuko to add he was just kidding or tricking him.

He wasn't.

"What do you-"

"You need to bring somethingwith you."

Sokka blinked. It took a few instants to figure out what another earthbending Master was now holding out to him.

A couple of round plates, a square-shaped hole in the center. Katara remembered suddenly she had seen something similar in some earthending tournament in Makapu, with her brother and father, years before.

Each plate hung from a long piece of tape that was tied around the central holes.

"There must be a mistake. I am no earthbender, or anything like that," said Sokka after a silence.

"That's no mistake. Earthbending won't help you, nor will any other form of bending. This is metal." The prince tapped on one plate with his knuckles, as to make sure no one could be mistaken with the sound of it.

"His Highness prince Zuko forgot to tell you something." The man with green eyes spoke suddenly with a clear, polite voice this time, and Katara didn't miss Zuko's side glance at him. "Bending is not allowed, of course. Not even earthbending." He turned his placid smile to the groaning recruits in the ranks. "Any attempt to outsmart us, we will notice."

The prince cleared his throat. "Thank you, Long Feng."

At Sokka's perplexed expression, the earthbending Master made a polite gesture at his feet.

Watching Sokka unhappily tie the plates around his ankles, Katara started to get a grip on what the challenge actually meant. She could only hardly imagine her body climbing with the weight of pure metal trailing her legs back to the ground.

Katara's hopes for her brother's attempt were quickly disappointed. Soon enough the initial momentumleft room for a sudden stop and a predictable, ruinous slide down over the wall.

Sokka's stubborn nature would usually take over in moments like that. As a result, everyone was staring awkwardly at his furious and always (painfully) unsuccessful attempts to climb that cliff.

"You," the prince suddenly cut it off and pointed at Jet. "Your turn."

Jet looked at Zuko with the usual, malicious lightning in his eyes, and stepped out of his place. Katara raised her brows at such an obiedient reaction. Everyone watched him curiously as he unwillingly grabbed the plates from Sokka's hands. He made it a little higher than his predecessor; his attempt, however, had no better luck, just like the others that followed.

"Kahn." After hearing so many names called, Katara's fake name resonated in her ears as the first sound after hours of complete silence. "It's Kahn, right?" She swallowed and nodded.

Katara's first attempt was violent and brief. The harder she pushed, the harder gravity pushed her back; for as much as she tried to force her feet to help her, her boots could hardly pin steadily into the friable, muddy rock mass. The weight got her sliding down multiple times, until she ultimately collapsed to the ground.

She barely made it past the first quarter of the climb.

She wanted to try again and again, but at some point she had to leave it to the others. When Zuko sighed after her last attempt, the glare of pure wrath he received made him step back.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've got a long way to go," he said to himself, only heard by Master Piandao next to him.

The cliff remained untouched since then.

And that, Katara found soon, would only be the beginning.

Days would roll by the same way. Every morning, for a couple hours after sunrise, Zuko would make them work out intensively around the camp. Katara knew the prince and his entourage expected people like her to put on some weight—they would constantly remind how necessary that was, in case one had to survive in the harsh environment of the highest alps. She, however, found she could quite pull it off with that kind of training most of the times, so she always strove to do her best whenever she could. It was always racing, some exercise with poles or ropes, sometimes obstacle courses in extreme environments, other times it was just stretching or meditation and breathing sessions. Zuko's uncle and the other masters insisted on these last two particularily, and the prince would follow, though he clearly didn't seem very fond of that kind of practicing—just like his recruits, after all. Most of them were just young boys who were champing at the bit to go break some real necks.

Because other than exercise, there was actual fight, of course. As a bender, Katara wasn't expecting she would have to deal with swordsmanship and archery and hand-to-hand combat, but apparently, it was all part of the basic training for everyone—benders and non-benders. Some non-benders were remarkably skilled already—there was this silent boy Katara had noticed, whose aim was inhumanly perfect, some dared say even better than the master (a retired Yuyan archer and no less). Jet already knew swordsmanship his own (unconventional) way and he was terribly good at it, Katara had to concede it. And Sokka—she knew he was good too. He had spent his life training with his father, waiting for his moment of truth.

She felt his disappointment as her own when he happened to spar with Jet for the first time, and was disarmed almost immediately. But Katara also knew better than himself that he had a strength others didn't. And that would pay off, someday; it was only a matter of time.

Things were different for her, though. She had never actually needed to fight before, and now she ironically regretted it. At the end of the first week of training, she had lost count of all the times she had been knocked out. It was especially infuriating after the one time she had sparred with Prince Zuko himself. Sokka's sorry looks at her bruises were the most annoying part. The one good thing was, she was more and more motivated every time by her increasing dislike for the arrogant prince; and, regardless of the result, she was always hitting harder.

Every day they would leave their tents when the sun was still down, and only returned after daylight was long gone. Katara had noticed how within the first couple days a few faces had disappeared. Sokka said they had been dismissed, as they had proven to be hopelessly unsuited for war. Katara could have thought that she had a chance, as she had passed the first test—but she knew better. Waterbenders were an evident minority compared with other benders, and they had to be cherished. That was part of the reason why she was being spared, and she was aware of it.

Apart from that, the one thing Katara had been looking forward to the most was, in fact, bending.

It was with great disappointment she learned that—out of all five Waterbending Masters available—she had been assigned to Pakku's class.

The first lesson took place on the second day of training, and that afternoon Katara reminded herself keep her face hidden at least a dozen times. It was clear that, if the sour old man recognized the girl he had seen disrespecting him only a few days before, only spirits knew what would become of her.

But surprisingly, he didn't quite seem to pay any attention to her—to an extent, at least.

"Find your stance and don't move until I tell you otherwise," was the very first statement on Master Pakku's first lesson. "You call that a stance?", he sighed a moment later at the attempts of a goofy young boy. And that would only be the beginning. Katara quickly learned that even though she did her best to please the Master and pass unnoticed, she would not avoid her own share of reprimands from Pakku.

He eventually kept them tense on that same stance for one entire hour. So when they were finally ordered to bend water in a tiny whip, Katara was nearly out of strenght to summon water, let alone try to mold it into a deadly weapon. The result was a crooked, thin string that fell down before it could even recall the shape of a ribbon.

"Embarrassing. Try again," was Pakku's only comment, which left Katara much more affected than she'd wanted to be.

The following lessons proceeded similarly, with Pakku often bringing down his students in his detached manner—and Katara was not sure whether failure was actually all he wanted to see in his pupils, refusing to value any of their attempts whatever they were, or deep down it was his own strategy to force their true abilities to come out.

Whatever his ways really aimed at, they got Katara thoroughly invested in learning waterbending, and fighting in general; which, as days went by and the initial, striking fear of being caught faded a bit, was making her much more at ease with her new fake identity.

Then, on the fourth day of waterbending class, something happened.

Master Pakku walked across his class, his eyes narrowed and attentive. As usual, Katara held her breath as he approached her; then he came to a stop, looking straight into her face. Each of his features was tense, an unreadable sparkle on them, and Katara could physically feel all the intensity of his sharp gaze pierce her body.

For a few seconds, the coldest shiver ran down her spine.

Then he blinked, and, his expression unaltered, he opened his mouth to pour out a long, sour rant over Katara's bending skills.

He eventually tied it all up in one long, tired sigh; then he turned and walked away, just as he had come.

As the first week went by, Katara found the waterbending lessons would get harder and harder every day. All her expectations and childhood dreams on the art of bending came to meet reality for the first time; and she discovered that even though she had been gifted with this talent from her birth, learning to handle it was not just as natural. The moment she really faced this fact for the first time, she realized there was no book or parchment or Master to give her precise instructions, to prepare her for anything. At the end of the day she would be the one fighting for herself, and it was not just about learning—it was about figuring her way out every time.

It was such an obvious concept, but not a reassuring one.

It all got worse when she would compare herself to others. Most of her fellow waterbenders were as young as she was, but they had grown in the North Pole, some had even trained with Master Pakku already. Each one of them, even the most mediocre, knew at least a thing or two about bending. Easy for them, Katara would think bitterly—but then, she told herself, making excuses wouldn't change things.

At times, she felt the gap between herself and the others seemed to get wider, instead of fading away. She had the feeling that for each step forward she was making, the majority of her mates made three at once and it got harder for her to catch up every time.

There were a few times, some of her lowest moments, when she would just blame her weaker body.

Straight after, she would get angry at herself for just the thought of that; and made herself run faster, and hit harder than she'd ever done.

Katara never got a glimpse of other bending lessons, but she'd heard that firebenders were being trained by prince Zuko and his uncle, General Iroh (and Katara was unsure how such a benevolent, peaceful old man could bear such a title as "Dragon of the West"). On the other hand, Sokka seemed obsessed with one of the earthbending teachers who called himself "The Boulder" (no one knew his real name, but looking at him, the nickname sure fit best).

Non-benders had to attend intensive lessons too. Other than basic fighting, they could choose between specific fighting arts such as archery or swordsmanship, as Sokka did.

All the while, from the top of the cliff, Sokka's boomerang still looked patiently down upon them. No one dared to look straight up back—except for Sokka, of course.

Two times a week they were scheduled to work with machinery. The first time Katara saw their armoured vehicles and engines she understood why the lead of the entire mission had been assigned to the Fire Nation—their technology in mechanical weaponry surpassed anything her imagination could conceive. Sokka was an enthusiast about engineering and this natural talent of his was immediately noticed by tenant Ji, who was in charge for war machines.

Katara couldn't say the same for herself, though. As much as she didn't object her brother's fascination, it was something she really couldn't feel comfortable around.

It was, maybe, the fact that she remembered still too vividly what the other side of the tanks looked like.

But she also acknowledged that, in certain circustamnces, one could never be ready enough.

Katara—and the rest of the army—had been told what they needed to know about the enemy. They can do something to your body, Zuko had told them, a slight wince on his features. Something that was never seen before. Some have called it witchcraft, some even claim it's a legendary fifth form of bending. Whatever it is—it will possess you, move your limbs to their will, and break you, in the end.

He had paused again, his last few words vibrating in Katara's mind like the chill down her spine. A deadly silence had fallen over every face around.

The only way to win this war is to figure out the one way we can destroy them from the inside, was Zuko's last sentence, that sounded so terrifying to Katara.

A/N again: sooo here we are! It's been... I don't even know how many months, but what matters is that this fic has been finally updated. I'm so, so sorry for that. I swear I had literally no time for anything fun, so writing had to wait. Also, I've been trying to work on this chapter since... November?, because I had to change it so many times. I'm still not happy with the result but hey, I'm finally free and I want to move on. So I hope you guys enjoy it-and I promise I'll be updating much faster during this summer!

Thanks to each one of my readers for being supportive and patient, most of all! Lots of love :*