I did everything I could not to scream or cry out. The only sound I uttered was an anguished grunt. That was all I allowed myself to do.

The pain was searing hot, like someone had set my shoulder on fire and let it spread to the rest of my body. I tried to grab at the arrow as I sunk to the ground, but I couldn't feel my hands. All I could feel was the pounding pain that came from my shoulder.

And then it was dying down, muted, like someone had doused the flames with a wonderful bucket of cold water. The pain was gone, like it had never happened. But I looked down at my shoulder, at the arrow that stuck out from both sides, and I knew that there must have been something on that arrow, some kind of medicinal herb, because a numbing sensation was spreading throughout my body like wildfire. And I couldn't stop it.

I leaned forward, trying to support my upper body on my arms, but helplessly sunk to the ground on my side. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to unconsciousness was the dark storm clouds slowly covering the bright sun.

I woke up in a pile of mud, completely soaked to the bone. Just lying there, I let the cold rain hit my face as a reminder that I was still alive, that I was still capable of doing this. Taking in a deep breath, I wiggled my fingers, relieved to find that I could feel them again. Then, I leaned forward, but immediately had to fall back again, the sudden movement jolting my shoulder, reminding me that there was still an arrow lodged there. So I had to move very slowly and cautiously, pulling my body up, inch by inch, until I was in a sitting position.

I carefully cleaned off the mud and leaves from my shoulder, gagging slightly at the gruesome sight. . After it was semi-clean, I tried to get a better look at what I was dealing with. The arrow had made a clean path straight through my shoulder, jutting out from behind. I knew I wouldn't be able to pull it out whole, so as gently as I could, I began to bend the feathery end down, trying to hold in screams of pain.

Snap! I held a splinted piece of wood in my hand, gripping it tightly as if that would help the pain fade. Deep breaths, Katara. Inhale. Exhale.

Slowly, the pain subsided until it was only a throb, and suddenly I wished for nothing more than the wonderful numb sensation from before. I took another deep breath in, then reached over to my shoulder blade and gripped the other end of the arrow. Here goes nothing.

And I pulled.

I could feel the thin piece of wood sliding through my shoulder, and it took every ounce of will power I had not to scream like a wild banshee. I wanted to stop midway, but kept pulling, determined to get it over with. And then it was done, and I was doubled over on my knees, panting and sweating.

After I regained my composure, I ripped a few strips of cloth from the material of my skirt and wrapped them around my shoulder, making sure to cover the wound completely, safe from dirt and mud.

Of course, I knew I could heal my shoulder. It was a rare talent among water benders, only a few able to wield the skill and even fewer able to master it. I didn't want to take my chances though, being on enemy territory and in an enclosed arena where I could possibly be watched. So, I would just have to rough it this time.

I stood up and surveyed my surroundings, suddenly aware that I wasn't in the same clearing I blacked out in. Whoever shot that arrow must have moved me while I was unconscious.

Crap.

I couldn't lift my arm much, so climbing a tree was out of the question. I guess I'd just have to go on foot. I looked down to my waist and found my sword in it's sheath, surprised. I'd taken it out for defense before I was shot back in the first clearing. Whoever moved me had the decency to put it back before dragging me here.

I glanced at the ground around me, for any leftover trails. There were some markings that looked like footsteps, but the rain had produced a thick layer of mud, making it hard to judge whether the prints were real. But they seemed to fall in a straight line, definitely a pair of human footsteps. They led into a bush, and I pushed the branches aside, revealing more disfigured footsteps. Off to one side were long marks, like something or someone, me, was being dragged as this person walked.

I picked up the pace, following the trail, losing it at some points and then picking it up again until I was back where I was shot. I looked up the incline, through the trees, and sure enough, I could see the tip of a waving red flag.

Wait. There were supposed to be four flags. Where were the other three?

Oh, spirits! How long was I out for? Did three people really already make it there?

I started running, faster than I've ever run before. Faster than when there was a Fire Nation soldier in my home, when I ran to find my father before it was too late.

I dodged branches and tree roots, slid under fallen trees and jumping through thick thorny bushes. I was almost to the top when I saw movement in my peripheral vision.

I put my head down and pushed myself to go faster. I had to get there first. And by the looks of it, I was winning, but not by much. He was getting closer too, too close for a friendly race. Then, I heard the familiar sound of someone unsheathing a sword and saw the silver gleam in the corner of my eye. He was right behind me now, right on my heels. I grabbed the hilt of my sword and spun, swiping behind me in a large arc, hearing the clang of our swords connecting.

I barely had time to recover before he was swinging at me again with impressive strength, a swing that would have left a gaping hole in my side if I hadn't side stepped in time. I used my momentum and swung again, this time connecting with his sword closer to it's hilt, and was almost able to disarm him before he pulled out and swiped again. I blocked it, stepping back slightly and he took advantage of my retreat, stepping closer and thrusting his sword forward, almost knocking me off balance. He took over offense, and I tried with everything I had to defend myself against his blows.

Then I had a plan.

I let myself fall back, closer to the clearing where the flags were, letting him waste all his energy thinking he was winning. His blows were getting stronger, but I easily deflected them, knowing the moves that the warriors from my tribe had taught me. He was beginning to tire, but I was still full of energy, having not wasted it in the fight. I was just waiting for my chance.

And then he faltered. He took a small step to the left, then tried to shift his weight while swinging but couldn't. It was a small miscalculation that I could have missed.

But I didn't.

I stepped in, under his arm and swiped at his feet, knocking him to the ground. He hit the ground with a thud, and I could hear the breath whoosh out of his chest. Before he could catch his breath, I turned on my heel and dashed toward the flag, rain drops splattering against my face. Only a hundred feet separated the flag from me, from helping the people I loved.

I closed the space easily with long bounds, breathing heavily and clutching my injured shoulder when I reached the pole. Leaning against it for support, I became aware of how tired I was.

My muscles strained in protest as I gripped the pole, my legs beginning to give out. I started to shiver as the cold rain poured over my head, my sopping wet clothes clinging to my body. Without my consent, my eyelids drooped, and I could feel the darkness pulling me under, beckoning me into it's hold. I heard a gong sound in the distance before the ground fell from underneath me.

I woke in a large room, warm, dry and freshly bandaged, laying on a small cot covered by a thin cotton sheet. With a peer under the blanket, I noticed that my clothes were changed too. I was no longer wearing the red ensemble I'd put on before leaving the water tribe ship, but a tunic made of a lightweight, airy material. My bindings were changed as well, and I wondered, embarrassed, who had to change them.

Just then, an old woman in red robes walked into the room carrying a tray that had an assortment of delicious looking food on it. The scent of cooked meat wafted toward me, almost pulling me off the bed to it, and I suddenly thought of Sokka.

I wished he was there with me, sitting beside me, telling me that everything would be fine, just like he did the day our tribe was attacked. I wished I wasn't the reason he and my father had to fight that day.

I swallowed as the woman set the tray down on a table beside my cot.

"Good morning, my dear. Feeling better?" she asked sweetly, smiling at me as she poured a cup of tea.

"Where am I? What happened?" I asked in reply, completely ignoring her question. Her eyebrow quirked up, but her smile turned slightly amused.

"Ah, I can see you're very eager for answers. Well, sadly, my knowledge is quite limited, but I can tell you what I do know. You have been here, in the infirmary, since yesterday, recovering from a shoulder wound." She handed me the cup of tea as she spoke, and I sipped it cautiously, feeling the warmth spread throughout my body.

"Is that all you know, or all you're allowed to tell me?"

"I can assure you that I would tell you more, if I could." She gave me a rueful grin. "Right now, save your breath and relax until someone is sent for you."

So, I did as she said, waited for someone to come, and it worked for about five full minutes before I cracked, exploding into a whole new round of questions I knew this old nurse couldn't answer. She made sure I ate all of the food, every last morsel, and I gratefully wolfed it down, savoring each bite. I talked to her mid-chew, spewing roasted turkey-duck from my mouth when I became over-animated. She just laughed quietly and shook her head as she checked my bandages and decided they could use changing.

"…I mean, is it really so surprising for a woman to join the Task Force? I knew some people would think I was silly, but the looks I've been getting around here make it seem like they've already reserved a room for me in the nearest mental institution!" I motioned to the other cots in the room, some of which had occupants that peered over curiously, while other patients pretended they couldn't hear me.

"Well, it's never been done before, so I suppose the idea does seem a bit surreal, almost impossible, to them," she said as she finished up bandaging my shoulder, and I let out an indignant huff.

"If it's so impossible maybe I should just quit now, don't you think?" I asked snidely, my eyes trained on the bed sheet covering my legs.

She tipped my chin up with two fingers so I looked her in the eye before she spoke again. "You mustn't be discouraged, my beauty. Others may dismiss you as weak, or inferior, but the fire inside you burns stronger than any other I've met before. You have the true spirit of a phoenix, free and tenacious. Do not let the opinion of others or their ideals stand in the way of your success."

I stared up at her, my mouth open to respond, but I couldn't form a sentence. She'd completely confounded me, left me speechless, something most people couldn't do. She smiled back, patted my cheek and moved to check my other bandages while I quietly processed her words.

I stared off as she cleaned the small cuts and gashes on my face, subtly observing the other patients in the room. I recognized one or two of them as men from the arena, but others, I presumed, were wounded soldiers who came back from war. One cot off in the far end of the room was screen off, hidden from onlookers, making me wonder what horrific sight could be lying behind the curtain. My stomach clenched.

I shouldn't be feeling any pity for these people. They're the enemy.

I looked away, just in time to meet a pair of burning gold eyes trained steadily on my face.

At first, all I could look at was the pink scar that marred the left side of his face, encircling his left eye and sweeping up his cheekbone to his hairline. He could only be two or three years my senior, but the serious expression on his features made him look much older.

Then, I was struck by how handsome the young man was: tall, dark hair against his light skin, and those eyes. I felt my limbs turn to putty just from mere eye contact, a light blush spread across my cheeks, and I wanted more than anything to tear my eyes away from his, but I couldn't. His gaze had me frozen.

"There you are, my dear. Good as new," the nurse said, stepping back and smiling at me. She followed my gaze to where the young man stood, and immediately, she began to fumble over herself. "Oh my! Your majesty! I-I am so very sorry, I didn't see you there, your highness!" With that, she got down to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor, bowing, a sign of deep respect. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that the other nurses and patients able to support themselves were doing the same. I just sat there, completely confused as to why they were bowing to a young guy.

Then it hit me. The nurse had called him 'your majesty.' Does that mean-? He's the Fire Lord?

I tried to move my limbs, mimic their actions, but my body wouldn't respond. So I sat there, wide-eyed and frozen, on the cot held prisoner by the young man's eyes.

"Please, all of you. Stand," he said calmly, still holding my gaze. I knew he was here to talk to me about something, or maybe just to see the first woman who made it through the arena. I felt like a circus act.

The other people in the room relaxed, going back to what they were doing before the Fire Lord's presence was recognized. Slowly, he strolled toward my small cot, a walk that radiated power, leaving the two guards accompanying him waiting by the door. I immediately resented him.

You could see that he rejoiced in the fact that he was superior. It was written all over his face. There was a smug glint in his eye, like he thought he was the best thing that has ever walked the planet. When he walked, he held his chin high and his shoulders squared, almost as if he believed he was invincible. When he reached me, he avoided the chair that had been pulled over by the nurse, like he was too good to lower himself to my level.

I almost spit in his face.

"You must be Katara," he said slowly, like he didn't expect me to understand him, the amused note in his tone was almost palpable. He wasn't really trying to conceal it, and I guess this was his way of letting me know how low he really considered me.

And you must be an asshole, I wanted to snap. "Yes, I am." I said coldly instead, wanting to show him that I didn't like him just as much as he looked down on me. Gone was the feeling of awe in his presence. Instead, all I felt was irritation.

"Well, I'm sure you're feeling accomplished. It's not everyday a woman enlists for the Task Force and makes it through the arena. Congratulations." The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was forcing himself not to smile. Oh, he was counting on my failure.

"Thank you. But you should probably wait until after I'm admitted into the force to congratulate me."

"You're very sure of yourself," he stated plainly, not asking if it were true.

"Your highness," I started, almost mockingly. "I'm here to break the mold."

"And break the mold you have. I suppose I should wish you luck instead, then." Now the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile, and I mentally scolded myself when my breath hitched in my throat.

"Luck will have nothing to do with it."

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry for the delay, I was on vacation for a week and it usually takes a week for me to write a chapter! This one is shorter than the others, I'm sorry about that, but I hope it lived up to your expectations.

So, in case you were wondering, the Fire Lord is Zuko. I don't want to reveal why he is yet, that will come up in the story later on!

Well, stay tuned for the next chapter if you liked it, if not, well then no one's forcing you to read it :)

Let me know what you thought. Input always pushes me to write more!