Zuko sat back in the saddle and took a deep breath. He was tired because he had stayed up late the night before, caught in the grip of anxiety. That didn't usually happen to him. But then, circumstances lately weren't usual. If they had been, he wouldn't have anything to worry about. If things were normal, he would have been able to resist the impulse to teach the Avatar. If things were normal, he wouldn't have needed the water spirit's help to begin with. If his life wasn't spiraling completely out of control, he would not find himself buried under a hail of life and death choices, every mistake a critical blow against him. He'd thought training would be risk free. He'd let his guard down and allowed himself to make even worse mistakes than usual. Why do I keep doing things like this? Running to the water spirit. Teaching the Avatar. Speeding up his training. I can't seem to stop. Why can't I stop?

Truthfully, he didn't have to be on guard against Katara or the water spirit. They weren't the source of his problems. The truth was that he was the source of his problems. He wouldn't have taught the Avatar anything if he hadn't wanted to. On some level, he was a selfish monster that did not care about his country.

What is wrong with me? Zuko closed his eyes and remembered the past. How he'd foolishly contradicted a general in a meeting he was lucky to even be at. How Azula lied, and he knew that, yet still fell for her deceptions. How clumsy and slow he was to learn firebending. How, once, he'd used to think the water spirit was his friend. I've always been like this. Father is right about me. I just wasn't born right.

The fire spirit sent a spike of heat stabbing into his stomach. Ow. What is it complaining about now? The fire spirit often complained when he thought of duty, responsibility, or any related topic. It was an out of control spirit that liked to do what it wanted when it wanted with no thought to consequences. He decided that it just hated the idea of responsibility.

A hand on his shoulder made his eyes open. Iroh was looking at him with concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Zuko answered. "I didn't sleep well."

"Any particular reason?"

Zuko looked at him strangely. "What are you talking about? I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well."

Iroh backed off. Zuko shrugged his shoulders, put Iroh's concern out of his mind, and resumed brooding on all the ways he was a failure and a traitor and a monster. I thought the water spirit was bringing me down with it. Maybe it already has. Maybe I'm beyond any hope of recovery. Yet giving up was not an option. It never had been. He didn't even bother to consider it. I have to get rid of it, no matter what. That will fix me. That will make me the sort of person who can be at my father's side. I have to believe that. Until then, he just had to do his best to ensure that whatever was wrong with him caused as little damage as possible.

The Avatar was flying the bison. But now he turned and leaned into the saddle. "Hey Zuko?"

Shut down. Do nothing. If I do nothing, I won't endanger my country any further. That was what Zuko instructed himself to do. Yet what he actually did was different. "What?"

"What are the unique things about the other elements?" the Avatar asked. "What's the special thing about water?"

I shouldn't tell him. I should say nothing. But he knew the answer. Well, he's already a pretty good waterbender. It won't do much harm. "Changing states."

"What about earth?"

I definitely shouldn't tell him. But the answer was very important. Without it, the Avatar could kill someone. Preventing people from being killed was worth it. "Earth is more permanent than the other elements," Zuko explained. "A thrown rock won't stop until it hits something. A crack in the ground won't close up until somebody closes it. I'm not surprised he knew you hadn't mastered earth yet. You would think more before you acted if you had."

Okay, that was enough. The Avatar's questions were answered and he hadn't taught anything unnecessary and the boy could turn around and sit down now. But he didn't. The Avatar gave a great big smile like he'd just had the best idea ever. "Hey Zuko? What's the unique thing about air?"

About air? He's a master airbender. He's just testing me. The Avatar giving him a test like he was a teacher and Zuko the student? Zuko's pride would not let him refuse. He tried his best to answer. He had never thought very much about airbending. He realized he did not know the answer.

That was okay, because he knew how to get it. Zuko turned and leaned over the side of the saddle. He stuck his hand out into the passing air. Then, he waited and watched.

The air pushed weakly against his hand. He knew air could have great power because the things the Avatar did with it were extraordinary. But the wild air flowing past him now was not controlled, not concentrated. It flowed down his sleeves, eddied through his fingers. It hit his hand and spread out in every direction, seeking another way past. It reminded him of the hot gale the Avatar had blasted them with when he cooled the lava.

Zuko took his hand back and turned around. "Air can't be fully controlled," he answered. "No matter what you do with it, air will always escape out the sides. You can't stop it from doing things you didn't intend. Airbending means learning to live with the things you can't control."

Everyone else in the saddle looked at him strangely. Zuko really, really hoped it was flabbergasted admiration for his wisdom. The Avatar grinned again. "My airbending teachers gave us lessons on that!"

Zuko's mood lifted. See? I know things. I'm not just some firebrained rageaholic idiot. I've been paying attention. It was very satisfying to prove that. The warmth in his belly flickered happily.

The Avatar went back to the reins. "You got all that from sticking your arm out?" Sokka asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"Sure." Sokka looked at him just as suspiciously as Katara ever had. Finally, he could see the family resemblance.

Nobody asked him any more questions. Zuko was free to think. The more he thought, the worse everything became, until he was convinced he had just made the worst mistake of his life. Oh no! Why do I keep doing idiotic things like this? Talking to an elemental spirit in front of them? Telling the Avatar about earth? I'm going to get thrown off the bison for attracting the attention of dangerous spirits, and then the Avatar's going to master earthbending. I can't believe I convinced myself it was okay! I'm so pathetic. Pathetic and weak and stupid and immoral.

He reached for his pack and opened a very small pocket on the side. From there, he took out a small chain with a leaping fish hanging from it. Zuko closed his fist over the chain so that the leaping fish dangled just below, and turned to lean his left side against the edge of the saddle. I earned this necklace by working with the water spirit. If I am going to be a good Firelord, then I will throw this away right now!

He willed his arm to swing out over the side and release the necklace. All he had to do was throw it a little bit to his left, and it would be lost forever. He stared at the fish and willed it to be gone, this symbol of shame. This symbol of weakness. This reminder that, no matter what he said or did, no matter how he pretended, the truth would always be that deep down he needed the water spirit, and even deeper down he knew it would always be there for him.

He stared at the fish, and stared, and stared. His fist clenched tighter. Instead of letting go forever, he found himself putting it back in his pack.

What is wrong with me? Why am I not strong enough to let go? If I was really strong and brave, I would let go. I wouldn't run to it like a baby anymore. I wouldn't endanger anyone. I'm hurting my people, and it's all because I'm too weak to let go of a spirit that I used to think was my friend. Selfish.

His mood plummeted to an all time low. Voices, some his own and some not, shrieked at him accusingly from everywhere. Convinced that he deserved it, he let them.

.

Iroh needed a distraction. After thinking a lot about what he and Jeong Jeong had seen, he concluded that he did not know what it was nor what to do about it. He'd seen and heard of many things, but not all life draining away from the face of someone who was perfectly alive and insisted they were fine. And how, exactly, could he bring life back to Zuko's face when his nephew shut him out?

It wasn't worth fretting about something he couldn't change yet. Iroh decided he would think more about it later. In the meantime, he had much more exciting things to do! "Would you like to hear a story?" he asked the young Water Tribe warrior. "It is from my days in the army, when I led just a small squad."

Sokka smiled. "Sure!" He assumed the same sitting position he had used for storytelling in Bato's hut, eager and wide eyed. Lu Ten had often looked forward to a war story the same way. Iroh took a moment to clear the sudden tightness in his throat. Then he began to tell the same story he had told Zuko, of a storm and refusing to take advice from locals and choosing the wrong path, of nearly costing himself and his men their lives.

Sokka thought about the story for a while after Iroh finished telling it. "So, the moral is that I should always ask for tips when someone knows the land better than I do?" Iroh nodded. "But I already knew that." Sokka glanced at Zuko. Iroh had told them all about navigating unfamiliar landscapes before.

"The story was still fun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Sokka admitted. "It was. Tell me another one!"

Iroh rubbed his beard and thought carefully about which of his many, many stories he should share next. What did these children need to know? He remembered something they had had trouble with in the past. "This next story is of a war meeting that went horribly, horribly wrong." He proceeded to tell Sokka all about a meeting to discuss the strategy for an upcoming battle. The people there moved icons around to illustrate troop movements, planned courses that would avoid crossing through a certain patch of troublesome hills, figured out where the enemy was likely to go. Something happened that never happened: everyone present actually agreed on what to do. They all left the meeting in high spirits.

"It doesn't sound like anything went wrong," Sokka said.

"That's because I told you what happened from my perspective at the time," Iroh said. "It sounded like everyone was in agreement. But I didn't notice that there was someone who wasn't speaking. A younger lieutenant, shy, not confident enough to speak up among older generals. He turned out to have crucial information about those hills. He did try, meekly, to say there was a problem with them. But we agreed that they looked troublesome and kept on talking among ourselves. He didn't have a chance to say that his men had reported rumors of fighters hiding in those hills. The path we took to go around them was perfect for an ambush." Iroh lowered his head in respectful remembrance. "Heavy losses were taken. We still won… But those were men that did not have to die."

Sokka lowered his head too. He was so much like Lu Ten! "I understand," he said. "Get input from everyone when we're making plans. Nobody's unimportant."

Zuko snorted. "Yeah right."

Sokka glared at him. "I don't remember asking for your opinion!"

"You really should," Iroh said. "I told you this story because you don't get everyone's opinion when you make plans. Remember when you left the abbey to look for your father?"

"What?" Sokka asked. "That's completely different."

"No, it isn't."

"All Jerkface would have done is complain about us taking another detour. We weren't going to miss a chance to see Dad just to get another few hours of travel in," Sokka argued.

"Maybe I wouldn't have complained," Zuko said. "I know all about wanting to see fathers again."

Sokka blinked. He clearly had never considered that possibility. "That whole fight could have been avoided if you'd invited him to say something," Iroh said.

Sokka opened his mouth, but closed it again. Katara looked away. They were both hesitant to do that. Why?

"Hypocritical jerks," Zuko muttered. "I don't think you'll make peace at all. You don't want to know what I think? I'll tell you anyway. I think that with people like you in charge, if the Fire Nation doesn't win the war it'll be destroyed. You just hate firebenders, regardless of what we've done. If the Fire Nation doesn't win, people like you will take revenge. 'Balance' among nations is just waste water you're spewing out to make yourselves look good. You don't want balance; you just want it to swing the other way!"

"That's not true!" The Avatar leaped into the saddle in outrage. "I really do want balance! How dare you call me a hypocrite!"

"I wasn't talking to you," Zuko said. "I was talking to them. They're the ones that shut me out and yell at me and make me sleep on a blanket like an animal just because I'm a firebender!"

"That's not because you're a firebender," Katara said. "It's because of everything you've done to us before. You deserve a little payback."

Aang started to visibly panic. "Guys -"

"That's not fair!" Zuko shouted. "I never treated you like animals! I never treated you like less than human, or blamed you for things you couldn't control, or -"

"You…!" Katara restrained herself at the last second. She clenched her jaw. Whatever she was going to say went unsaid.

"I what?" Zuko glared at her just as venomously as she glared at him. "I want to hear you say it."

"You are prince of the Fire Nation," Katara said slowly. "We've lost so much to Fire Nation raids, and everything stolen from people like us goes to you. We've been so helpless because of orders given by royal jerks like you. So humiliated, and unable to do anything about it. Why would we ever allow you to have power over us ever again?"

Zuko closed his eyes and turned away. "You are just like those Earth Kingdom people. It doesn't matter who I am or what I do. You'll hate me no matter what, so why should I even bother?"

Silence descended. In it, the Avatar finally worked up the courage to speak. "Um, guys?"

"Yeah?" Sokka asked.

"Isn't this exactly what he was just talking about?" Aang gestured to Iroh. He then turned to Zuko. "It makes so much more sense now why you hate me. You think I'm going to destroy your country. I'm not, I promise! I just want to stop the Fire Nation from hurting the other nations. When the war's over, I won't do anything to hurt the Fire Nation. If other people do, I'll help keep it safe because I'm the Avatar and I keep balance. I would never let anyone take revenge on you. That's a promise."

"You don't even stop your friends from calling me an angry jerk to my face. Why would I trust you?" Zuko asked.

Aang's jaw dropped. But there was no argument to be made. He sighed. "I just want everyone to get along. I don't want there to be all this fighting. Can't we have peace?"

Zuko turned to shoot him a glare. "When are you going to realize that nobody but you wants peace?"

The question hung in the air. No answer appeared to banish it. The Avatar slunk back to his reins. The Water Tribe members remained silent. Zuko resumed brooding on whatever he was brooding about. And Iroh found himself forced to think about the very troublesome things he had been trying to take a break from in the first place. He had thought traveling with the Avatar would be more exciting than this. It was worse than traveling on the boat had been! How was that possible?

Iroh was not an easily angered person. But he was starting to get really fed up.

.

Aang landed in the afternoon so that everyone could stretch, bask in the sun, take a walk. Get away from each other. He stayed near Iroh, and the two of them watched as everyone else scattered in different directions. "Was he right?" Aang asked. "Am I really the only person that wants peace?"

Appa snorted. Momo hid behind one of his horns. The lemur had spent the entire morning hiding, as if he could feel the tightness in the air. Appa took them both away, leaving Aang and Iroh alone. Aang's eyes watered. He was doing such a bad job at making peace that even the animals were walking away.

"I don't know," Iroh answered honestly. "If your friends want to make peace as much as they say they do, they're going to have to stop blaming Zuko for decisions he didn't make. And if Zuko wants to make peace, he has to stop giving up without even trying." He sounded, for the first time in Aang's experience, irritated. "I don't know if anyone else wants to make peace. But I think you're the only one who can actually do it."

"Please," Aang begged. "Tell me your honest answer. Is everything going to be okay?"

Iroh looked down at him and slowly exhaled. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yes. It's just going to be a very annoying road to get there."

"Annoying?" Aang asked. "It doesn't feel that way to me. I'm starting to question everything now. What's the point of being Avatar, if…"

"If you can't make peace?"

"Everyone thinks I'm so great and powerful. But I feel like I'm being buried under all this responsibility and I can't do anything about it. This is why I ran away after the monks told me I was the Avatar. I'm not ready for this!" Aang sat curled up on the ground and buried his face in his knees.

"I shouldn't have sounded so frustrated," Iroh muttered to himself. To Aang, he put a reassuring hand on one shoulder. "Young Avatar. You can do this. You are stronger than you think."

Aang hunched his shoulders. "It doesn't matter. Nobody listens to me."

Iroh tightened his grip. "That's not true. People always listen, even when they look like they aren't. Trust me; I've seen it."

Aang raised his head and looked at Iroh. Iroh smiled back. He really seemed to think that everything would be okay, even though Aang could only see doom and gloom everywhere he looked. Did Iroh have a different perspective? Could he see a little further, to a time when all the hard parts would end? Aang chose to believe he could. He needed the hope.

"Can you teach me to see things the way you do?" he asked.

Iroh laughed. "Nobody can teach you how to see. That's something you have to learn for yourself." He stood up. "Let's make lunch. I'm starving!"

They made lunch. Amazingly, to Aang's delight, everyone else came back. Katara, Sokka, Zuko, even Appa and Momo: they all came back. And they ate lunch, and Momo begged for food like usual, and sometimes someone took pity on him and gave him a bite, as usual. Everything was alright again.

Aang realized that he wasn't looking far enough ahead. Iroh could be peaceful because he knew that hard times and good times cycled back and forth, and after every fight people were bound to come back together again. Aang had been so busy looking at everyone's backs as they walked away, he hadn't even thought about the fact that they would have to come back eventually. If he looked farther into the future, he would be able to see the cycle, and then he could see what Iroh saw!

So Aang looked into the future and tried to make himself understand. This cycle would keep going, forever and ever with no end. There would be fighting, and then there would be reconciliation. That was how it always would be. The thought that there would always be reconciliation filled him with hope, even as the thought that there would always be fighting saddened him.

Little did he know that he was wrong.

.

After lunch, they lifted up again. Aang sat at the reins, as before. That left Iroh and 3 surly teenagers sitting in the saddle. None of the teens wanted to talk.

There was a lot of thinking to do. The fight was the latest in a cluster of events to convince Katara that maybe, just maybe, she was in the wrong. When she said it aloud, blaming Zuko for the raids on her tribe sounded silly. He hadn't actually done anything so bad that he deserved to be under constant suspicion. The second day of Jeong Jeong's training, he'd been so angry that he snapped at both the master and his own uncle. He couldn't keep a lid on anything. Even then, when he was at his most unrestrained…he still had not hurt anyone. If that wasn't proof that he could be trusted not to cause fiery disaster in the middle of the night, what was?

Every instinct in Katara's body rebelled against this line of thinking. Something about the way he moved and spoke screamed Suspicious! to her. An inner alarm went off anytime she thought about Zuko and fiery disaster in the same thought. He just looked so much like someone who couldn't be trusted. It wasn't something she could explain. Truthfully, Katara was looking so hard for things he did that could be suspicious because she needed something to justify what her instincts were already saying.

Wasn't accusing someone without proof wrong? That was what corrupt courts did, not someone sensible trying to make a better world. Katara was ashamed to have listened to her instincts and not her reason this whole time. Her instincts must be wrong. They were biased, twisted and bent by her history with firebenders. They couldn't be accurate and objective. From now on, she would only trust what she had proof for. No accusing without evidence.

But he seemed so suspicious, like he was hiding things…

No. There was no reason to think that he was keeping something important from them, or if he was that it was for a bad reason. Everyone was entitled to privacy. If he had ulterior plans, Iroh would know about them, and Iroh could be trusted to share information like that.

Yes, her instincts said. Iroh could be trusted. But not Zuko.

No. He'd helped save Aunt Wu's town, and hadn't burned anyone even when he was at his snappiest, and a thousand other little things. She had every reason in the world to trust him. All the help he'd given so far had earned it. He'd helped them save people's lives, and hadn't done anything as bad as that was good to balance it out. The scale was clearly tipped in favor of trusting him.

But her instincts did not care about math. Trust was a gift that her heart refused to give.

Katara looked up at Zuko and tried to see clearly, objectively. But the second she laid eyes on him staring up at the sky, her first thought was What is he thinking about? and the first things she remembered were Zhao's words about turning traitor just when the Avatar trusted him. Ridiculous! He was just staring at the sky. Why did she jump to the conclusion that he must be plotting?

Zuko was, in fact, plotting. He needed a way to explain how he had learned the secret of airbending, and he couldn't mention air spirits. Perhaps he could try spreading misinformation. Was there something vaguely truthful enough that his horrible lying skills wouldn't betray him, yet likely to lead them astray?

Katara curled her fists. Aang was unhappy, and it was her fault. She did want peace, she was sure she did. She wasn't the kind of person Zuko accused her of being! She was smart, and sensible, and good at being a friend to anyone who needed it. She could not let her biased instincts led her any further astray. The fact that she couldn't explain why she watched over Zuko so closely should have been enough of a clue that she shouldn't feel the way she did.

Katara did not look at him again for the rest of the flight. She didn't want to hear what her instincts had to say.

.

That night, Zuko suggested a game of Pai Sho. He really did not want to talk to anyone, and really did want to have something else to think about. Having a nice fight with the Avatar and his friends had relieved some of his guilt and anxiety, but not enough. He had tried to take the necklace out of his pack and throw it away, and this time he hadn't even succeeded at taking it out. Something was still wrong with him. I can't let down my guard.

The Avatar volunteered to play first against him. Zuko lost. He was no closer to having a strategy than he had been last time they played. He took a deep breath, stifled his temper, and let the Avatar play with Sokka next. They were surprisingly well matched. Sokka must have learned quite a lot from talking with Iroh.

"You want to try?" the Avatar asked Katara.

Katara shook her head. She's been quiet all afternoon. She hasn't even been looking at me. Why not? Has she figured out everything she needs to know? I have to know what's going on.

"It's probably because you're too good," Zuko told the Avatar. To Katara: "I want a match." He shooed the Avatar away and began to set up his side without waiting for an answer. Katara sighed. She began to set up her side without giving him one.

The game began. Zuko expected her to beat him. He really should figure out what his strategy was. In contrast, Katara was focused and knew exactly where to place her tiles. She would surely poke holes in his game in no time.

But she did not. Zuko noticed immediately how long it took her to make a move. She seemed…uncertain. The way her tiles were moved and placed on the board also didn't look quite right. Zuko couldn't see a strategy behind it. She's playing like me.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Katara said too quickly. Then, after a pause: "I just realized that maybe I haven't been seeing things right."

Goosebumps rose all over Zuko's body. Her tone of voice was too familiar. The wording she used - I haven't been seeing things right - brought back the past as if it was happening again. All the voices that had been bothering him vanished. "No!" Zuko snapped.

Katara jerked. She looked up at him for the first time in hours. Her eyes had lost their usual piercing look. She can't see me anymore. Zuko's heart beat double and then triple. She can't see me anymore? "Don't do that," he told her. "Don't lose trust in what you see." The game vanished. A waterfall of years-old words released itself. "There is a reason why you see things the way you do. You're not delusional, or crazy, or exaggerating or lying. You're seeing something real. Even if you made a mistake, that doesn't mean your senses can't be trusted. Trust what you believe."

Katara's mouth fell open. As the flow of words stopped, Zuko remembered where he was. He looked down and moved a tile. Katara started to reach out to the board. But instead, her hand curled into a fist.

They looked at each other again. Katara's eyes were hard, and sharp, and accusing. Zuko's heart skipped a beat. She can see me again!

"I believed you can't be trusted," she said. "I believe that you're hiding things from us. I believe that you're making secret plans and sneaking around behind our backs. I believe that you're dangerous, and because of you someone's going to get burned sooner or later." With each sentence her voice grew stronger and bolder, the fire behind her eyes growing larger and brighter.

Zuko curled his own fists. Ugh. She can see me again. "Nothing you just said about me is true," he said. "But you're not wrong."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not wrong."

She's right to think that someone untrustworthy and dangerous is nearby. It just isn't me. She can see all the way to the fire spirit.

"How, exactly, am I not wrong?"

Zuko looked away. What am I doing? I just brought her attention back to me. Isn't that what I've been avoiding all this time? Why did I do that?

Katara looked down at the game and moved a piece. She picked it up with no hesitation and slapped it down in one swift move, the tile making a soft clicking sound against the board. Zuko took his turn, then she hers. A clear strategy emerged from her movements. It was soon obvious that she would win, as she tore his obfuscating clumps of tiles to shreds and made a sensible ring pattern in the middle of it all.

A few moves from the end, she stopped. "Why did you tell me to trust in what I believe when you know I believe bad things about you?" she asked.

Goosebumps rose on his arms again. "A long time ago, when I was very young, there was an accident." Images flashed before his eyes: Fire, leaping out of a fireplace, burning my hands. "I was the only one who saw it, so everyone asked me what had happened. I told them all exactly what happened." "The fire jumped out and burned me!" "But what I said sounded so unlikely that nobody believed it. Everyone I told decided that I wasn't telling the truth. They said I was mistaken, or confused, or that I'd caused it and was covering for myself, or that I was making things up for attention." Father shaking his head, finally impressed. Impressed that he had a son who was enough of a failure to burn himself with his own firebending.

"Everyone I ever met said that I was wrong," he continued. "I started to believe it. Maybe I hadn't seen right. Maybe I was confused. Maybe I had somehow been responsible and I'd secretly convinced myself I wasn't? I didn't think I was lying, but maybe I secretly was? I didn't believe my own memories anymore. I couldn't tell what was real. If the accident hadn't nearly repeated itself the exact way I described it, I would believe right now that I am a liar." He shivered. "I don't want that to happen to anyone else."

Katara studied his face. "Everything you said to me was what you wanted to hear back then, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Every time he remembered that incident and wished that it could have been different, more words fell into place. Every sentence he had spoken was years old. It was sweet to have finally said them aloud.

"You told me those things because you didn't want me to think that way about myself."

"Yes."

Katara tilted her head, as if he looked very different. Zuko let her. I felt so invisible back then. Not even Mom believed me. I might as well have never spoken at all. Even if it makes things harder for me, I don't want to be invisible anymore. It was aggravating and bothersome to be exposed when he was trying to hide, but maybe it was a little freeing too.

"Thanks," Katara said. The word was foreign to her mouth, but she said it. And then she moved one of her tiles, and Zuko moved one of his, and she defeated him in three rounds. They did not look at each other. "You really need a strategy."

"I know."

"You're really bad at this. The worst."

"I'm aware."

"It's like you have no idea who you're playing as. I would have thought a fierce fighter would have, I don't know, a more attack-focused strategy?"

A fierce fighter? Really? I am a leader. I am a protector. But I am good at sneaking around, too, and I like to fight. I'm just too complex to have an obvious strategy. That's all. I just have a really well-rounded personality.

"That's what your strategy is all about," he retorted. "I never would have pegged you as a fighter."

"Oh, I can fight. Do you want to see how well I can fight?" She reached for the waterskin on her hip and pulled out a stream of water.

He leaned back. "Uh, no thanks."

She put her water back. "I'm not worried about what Zhao said anymore. Once we reach the Northern Water Tribe and you get the water spirit off your back, I'll have mastered waterbending so well I could feed you your teeth and make you spit them back out again."

Zuko tried not to be intimidated. But he was intimidated. "It's a good thing I wasn't planning to turn traitor all of a sudden." But then what am I planning to do?

Katara stood up, stretched, and began to clean up after dinner. Zuko put all the pieces away and looked around to see if anyone else wanted to play. Everyone, including Momo, stared at him as if he had sprouted three heads. "What?"

The Avatar looked up. "Nothing!"