Aang sat on a fallen log, legs swinging freely as he watched Sokka and Zuko. The sound of clashing swords charged the air, and their breaths came fast and heavy. They circled each other, waiting for an opportunity.

He had seen them practice enough to enjoy watching them, but he didn't find sword fighting itself enjoyable to do. The sword felt awkward in his hand and way too heavy. Besides, he already had enough he needed to master.

Apparently sensing an opening, Zuko lunged. Sokka sidestepped the attack and countered, but Zuko's second sword was there to block it, and he slid his blade forward along Sokka's so the tip lightly touched his shoulder. Zuko smiled and Sokka let out a frustrated, "Oh, come on!"

Releasing his friend, Zuko said as they returned to their starting positions, "Did you notice I feinted with that lunge—drew you in?"

"Then you were ready for me to counter."

"And I didn't have to reach far to riposte after parrying," finished Zuko.

Aang cupped his hands around his mouth. "You can do it, Sokka!"

He waved back. "Thanks! Feel free to boo Zuko if you want." Then, to Zuko: "I'm just kidding, buddy. Let's do this."

The two held their swords at the ready. Rather than waiting for Zuko to attack, Sokka advanced, yelling at the top of his lungs. Instinctively, Zuko retreated, crossing his blades in an X. Sokka tried feinting by swinging half-heartedly near Zuko's left arm, but it was obvious even to Aang's untrained eye. Zuko didn't take the bait either. "Nice try," he said and uncrossed his swords to begin his counterattack.

Aang was so focused on Zuko that he didn't notice Sokka's sword. A fraction of a second passed, and as Zuko began his counterattack, he instantly withdrew with a loud hiss.

Sokka lowered his sword, and all form of competition left him. He went to Zuko's side. "I am so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Fine." Zuko shook his arm like he was fending off a pesky fly and not bleeding cut in his arm, and kept his sword raised. "Let's keep fighting. That was a good trick."

"No, stop. Aang! Take a look at this." Aang hopped down and jogged over to the two of them. Pulling back a bit of Zuko's sleeve and revealing a bleeding slice at long as his hand, Sokka said, "Katara should be able to fix it, no problem, right?"

Aang nodded, but Zuko shook his head. "It's fine. Really." Batting away their hands, he sheathed his swords. "That was really smart, Sokka. I thought you were going to pull back after your feint failed, but that wasn't your plan at all, was it? Smart," he repeated. For the first time, he looked at his injury. He probed it, and it bled steadily. "Well, my shirt was already ruined," he said with a shrug, and, to add to Aang's confusion at his behavior, he smiled.

"I need to be more careful," Sokka said, still apologetic.

"In practice, yes. You won't have that problem in a real fight."

Sokka slid his sword into its sheath with a soft rasp, keeping a tight grip on it. "I know," he replied flatly.

He doesn't want to kill anyone either, Aang realized—well, it wasn't so much a realization as a reminder that he wasn't alone in this: they all had to decide what they'd do during Day of Black Sun. Maybe Katara would stay back and heal the injured, but Toph, Zuko, and Sokka…They've chosen to fight. Kill. He was the only one who said he wouldn't kill the person he was "supposed" to kill. What did that say about him? Was Zuko right? Was he being selfish at the expense of his friends' lives?

No, if I kill Ozai, how am I better than him? He thinks killing people is okay for the right reasons, how am I any different if I kill him? But what did that make his friends if they killed people? They weren't the same as Ozai—not even close.

The sound of Katara's and Toph's voices among the trees interrupted Aang's thoughts, and he turned to greet them. To no one's surprise, they were arguing; in particular, they were arguing about the items they recently purchased. From what he could see, they had gotten two new packs that were half-full with supplies as well as some wrapped packages of meat held in Katara's arms. "…more than you. You're glad we didn't get that extra pan now, don't you?"

Toph stopped at the edge of the clearing. "It's not like we'll be carrying it around all the time. Hey there, Twinkletoes."

He waved. "Hey! Whatcha get?"

"Everything—"

"Not everything," Katara corrected, "but we did get a bit. I wasn't able to replace everything we had before: our tents—but it's almost too warm to pitch them now, so that wasn't that bad—all our Water Tribe clothes, and the cups Zuko made. But other than that, we bought a bit of food, a pot and kettle, and a change of clothes for everyone. I had to guess sizes."

"I know exactly how big you all are," added Toph.

"Were you able to find out where we are?" Sokka asked.

Toph laughed once, then said, "Yes. After Katara did the worst bit of lying I've ever seen."

"I just said we were lost," Katara said defensively.

"And when the guy asked where we were from? She said, 'North.' Ha! I had to tell him she wasn't too smart, and he bought it."

"So? Where are we?" asked Zuko.

"Inbou. South of Usu?" Katara said, ignoring Toph's jibe.

They all looked at him for a spark of recognition, but the firebender shook his head. "I don't know it."

"He said we're by the tip of the Wayward Peaks."

His eyebrows shot up. "How close?"

"I don't know. Didn't think to ask."

Sokka hmmed. "That sounds familiar. Aang, let me see the map." He held out his hand for it. Aang had been holding onto it while the older boys sparred. He handed it over, and Sokka unfolded it with a single snap. "Let's see…" Then, standing side by side, they searched the many small islands, but none contained the named range much less mountains at all.

"If that's what he said," Zuko spoke slowly, rubbing his eyes, "we're on the main island. You said you saw the ocean, right?" He looked at Aang overtop the map.

He nodded.

Sokka said, "Wait. The main island? The main, main, center-of-evil island? But that's really west. There's no way Appa flew that far."

"Let me look." Katara circled behind Sokka and Aang to see the map, passing Zuko along the way, still not noticing his injury. She hovered over Aang's shoulder, and he could feel her presence behind him and her breath against the back of his neck. Cut it out, he corrected himself. Focus.

"The ocean?" Zuko repeated.

"Yeah. Over there." Aang pointed to his right at the wall of trees concealing the innards of the forest and anything beyond it. "It's probably a day's walk away, but it's there."

"Not around us? Didn't you think to say something?" he admonished him. "Everywhere we've been lately, we've been surrounded by water."

He shrugged, "I just thought it was a really big island."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko let out a sigh and dropped his hand. "Did you see any mountains?"

"Mostly hills close by, but there were lots of mountains far off."

"What direction?"

Aang pointed again, this time behind himself.

"So, here." Sokka pointed to an area on the map, an area far west, like he had said, and north. Touching a small, titled illustration next to simple curves drawn on the parchment, he said, "And these are the Wayward Peaks. I knew I remembered them."

"I suppose it's a good thing we didn't land closer," responded Zuko with a vague wave of his hand. "Too many soldiers."

Setting the map down, Sokka persisted, "But how did we travel that far? It takes us a whole day and night to go half the distance, and even then that's pushing it."

Zuko seemed similarly confused. "Maybe since we threw a lot of weight overboard…but I don't know if it explains everything."

However, this was something Aang could answer. "It does! Well, kind of." Their gazes fixed on him for an explanation. "You see, we lost a lot of weight during the storm—throwing things away—"

"Yes, we were there," said Toph.

"Well, that means we can fly higher, and when we get higher there are different air currents…" Finally, something he knew more about than any of them. He explained how storms acted, the different flows of energy and air that grew from them, but also the strength of the wind that could arise. "And Appa knows how to use the winds to move around quickly without getting as tired." If his friends hadn't had respect for the fuzzy, sleeping giant before, they did now.

"Well, it's not great being as close to Ozai as we are, but we're also so close to meeting Dad," Sokka said. "If we had only ended up south instead of north…"

"We can wait another day," Katara said, laying a hand on her brother's shoulder. "We'll be there a day early, too."

"Ha," Toph interjected. "That'll be a first."

Sokka folded up his map, and a short lull in conversation swept through them. He didn't know what they were thinking, but for Aang, he couldn't help but turn his mind back to their ultimate destination: the invasion.

"It doesn't seem like Appa will be flying tonight," Zuko noted. "Aang, we still have plenty of daylight; we should spar."

It felt good to know at least someone else was thinking about it, though, on quick reflection, he wondered exactly how much time Zuko spent worrying about the coming fight. After all, everything Zuko was doing—traveling with them and training him—was to stop Ozai. I guess the question is, when doesn't he think about it? He nodded. "Let's do it."

Beside him, Katara let out a gasp then a scolding tsk. "Not before I fix that cut."

Shortly after a healing session and a long-ish lecture about playing with swords, Aang and Zuko stood facing each other, ready to fight. Afternoon was ended early by clouds blowing in, and evening arrived as the hard, crisp shadows of the day grew out from their molds in the fading light. The trees creaked in the wind while the leaves, already appearing more like shadows than physical objects, rushed and blew like ocean waves overhead.

Formal training long abandoned, they had chosen to spar. They were close to ten paces apart and were far enough away from the others to avoid an errant bit of heat hurting anyone. All that was left to do was start.

Zuko held up his hand, palm up, and a flaming light appeared that projected both light and shadow on his face. Though it was so much more exciting to fight with firebending, fighting Zuko, even if it was only practice, reminded Aang too much of their fights before. He never recalled being afraid of him, and he still wasn't; it was just the memories were ones he'd rather forget.

Zuko attacked first, as he usually did, and Aang defended and dodged. The trees were helpful in letting him avoid Zuko's line of sight and the resulting fireballs. Several tree limbs were left smoldering as evidence of close calls.

But this did not seem to be what Zuko had in mind. After leaping from one tree to another one too many times, Aang heard him say, "I'm not teaching you to jump around! Attack. You aren't going to hurt me, Aang."

That felt like a universe-tempting phrase belonging to Sokka rather than Zuko, but Aang obliged. He landed on the ground, got into his stance, and readied an attack. He imagined the energy flowing through him and into the earth below. Like the sun warming the earth, he remembered. Then his chi grew and spread to his fingertips and away, transforming into fire.

Fire left his palm directed at Zuko's chest five or six steps away. It wasn't a large flame, but Aang didn't want it to be. Not waiting to see if it landed, he took a step forward and extended his other palm, mirroring his prior action. Another ball of fire left. He could have done more—kicked or punched again—but after the day's earlier accident, Aang didn't want to take another chance with Zuko's safety.

By this time, the forest was almost fully dark with little difference between the color of the sky and ground. Each of his attacks lit up the night, and Zuko redirected the fire with his own and with ease. That was the thing with firebending: at night, it was hard to hide any of your movements. While it made attacking difficult, it made defending—dare he say—easy. The thought was only reinforced when Zuko countered with an attack of his own which Aang quickly spotted and redirected.

However, as if sensing his thoughts, Zuko demonstrated a different tactic. While they were still a few steps away, he held up his hand, palm facing Aang, and let an intense, yellow-colored fire come forward in a flash of light. It was only there for a second before it was extinguished.

Darkness clouded Aang's vision, and he blinked rapidly to clear it. He backed away and tried listening for Zuko, but the wind through the trees overpowered any crunching leaves, and the soft ground muted any movements he could have felt. I need to work on my seismic sense, he thought with dread.

The air moved behind him, but Aang only had time to begin turning before Zuko touched his neck. Aang jerked away, but what was done was done.

He stared at Zuko, and Zuko stared back from the darkness. Then a small flame bloomed from his other hand, revealing a frown covering his face despite his victory.

A little hurt by the ease of which the firebender caught him, Aang asked, "What?" a little too sharply.

"I'm wondering why it was so hard—fighting you before." He sounded genuine, but it did little to lessen his words' sting.

"I don't know. I guess…" Aang thought aloud, "maybe you were fighting yourself too?"

Zuko's frown deepened for a moment. "I don't know about that. Maybe. We should head back, though."

They returned to find the group in darkness. The girls watched as Sokka leaned over a smoking branch he was rubbing back and forth. When Zuko's light reached him, he looked up and, without greeting them, asked as one who had already tried to make the fire more times than his pride would allow: "Can you do this?"

Zuko gestured to the pile of wood before them. "Go on, Aang."

"Don't blow it up," said Sokka.

Letting the energy well up within him again, faster than before, he let the tiniest bit of energy loose from his palm. A flame about the same size arose, timid but withstood the swirling wind that threatened to extinguish it. He bent down and transferred it from his hand to the dry branches and twigs gathered together, pouring it out like water. Immediately, it began consuming them, growing and crackling as it did so.

Sokka let out the last of his frustration in a sigh. "Thanks."

They sat around the fire, not for the heat for it was a warm night but for the light it gave them—and the fire would need to mature and produce coals before Katara would lay a pan across it. It seemed to Aang that heating up the fire would speed things up, but Zuko disagreed and Katara didn't complain—Sokka's and Toph's bellies did, though.

The clouds had chosen to part, displaying the rising moon, and the trees cast many dark and cutting shadows. Sokka's mood had shifted for the better, and he told the scary story of a man with a sword for a hand hunting down those who dared to enter his woods. It was one Aang had heard before after traveling with him for so long, but it was a favorite and he listened well, shushing Zuko when he asked a question about the story.

When that one was over (all the story's children being either driven out or killed in some horrific way—eaten, in this telling), Sokka started up with another one that involved a haunted blade of Wing Fung. It was new, but rather seemed like a variation of the previous story. Aang found himself stifling a yawn and said, "I think I liked the other one better."

"Yeah," chimed in Toph, "Water Tribe scary stories suck. Can you beat that, Zuko?"

Zuko shook his head.

"No, you've got one. I know it."

"It's a common one, but I don't know if it's that scary. Everyone knows it in the Fire Nation."

"Maybe I've heard of it," said Aang. "If they were telling it a hundred years ago, I might have."

He glanced at Katara. "Go on," she said, nodding.

"Okay," he said. "It goes like this: Long ago, before there were Fire Lords to rule the islands, there were the Great Dragons. They were powerful beings that brought both fear and order to everything.

"Every year, humans and animals had to present themselves to the Great Dragon and offer up the best of what they owned or produced. One year, a man decided he did not want to present an offering—Do you know this one, Aang?"

Aang blinked and quickly searched his memory. Shaking his head, he said, "I remember a few stories about the dragons, but not this one."

A nod. "Well, the man didn't want to hand over anything to the dragon. So he gave away everything he had to friends, family, and strangers. When he presented himself to the dragon at the end of the year, he said, 'I have nothing to give.' The dragon questioned him. Where was his house? He did not have one. His money? Given away. His children? Disowned. He had no connections nor owned one copper piece." Zuko's expression was animated, his voice rising and falling in practiced rhythm, not that he had likely done any practicing, but it seemed that the storyteller he was mimicking had told the story many times.

"The man smiled, thinking he had bested the dragon. The dragon smiled as well. 'So you have nothing to offer me?' 'Nothing,' said the man. And do you know what happened next?" Zuko asked them.

They shook their heads.

"With that, the Great Dragon opened his mouth and swallowed him whole."

Aang along with the others waited for the rest to come, but it never did. "That's it?"

"Yeah, what kind of story was that?" said Sokka.

Looking a little offended, Zuko explained, "It's a warning. It says a 'dragon' ruler always gets what he wants, that he makes the rules and can break them at will so we, his subjects, have to be careful not to upset him or we could die. That's what's supposed to be scary."

"Not so different from real life," Katara said. "This is what children are taught?"

"That's how it is for everyone who's not the Fire Lord."

Aang couldn't help sitting a little closer to the fire. Beside him, Toph let out a gasp and, thinking she was reacting to what Zuko said, he started to say, "It's okay—"

But Toph's face, lit by the fire, showed panicked confusion rather than it matching his own piqued fear. "Wait! Do you hear that? I hear people under the mountain. And they're screaming."

"What?" Aang asked.

But Sokka clearly had not seen her face nor noticed her changed tone because he replied, "Pfft! Nice try. I don't scare that easily."

Ignoring him, Toph said, "It just stop—" She faced the direction of the wood behind Katara and called out. "Who's there?" Surprise and a bit of fear made her voice travel only a short while before losing strength, stopping at the feet of the dark shadows just beyond the firelight.

This time, Sokka stood up, boomerang pulled from its sheath, as did the rest of them, already moving into their respective bending stances. In a rare fit of bravery, Momo leapt from Aang's shoulder and flew into the darkness beyond, only to return a second later, trembling.

Though rather than this omen coming true to reveal an evil monster, out stepped an old woman—very old, Aang would say. Her skin drooped, creating many heavy lines across her face. Hanging from the crook of her arm was a small basket like you would take on a picnic. This can't be what scared Momo, can it? A gust rushed through the trees and turned up the woman's hair. Wild, white hair blew around her in the wind like a kind of aura. In the darkness it may have been an imposing, inhuman thing worthy of his friend's fear, but in the firelight, she was nothing short of an ordinary grandmother in a shawl.

"Oh my!" She looked around at them. "Goodness, how many are there of you hiding in these woods?" It was the question of a concerned woman to her grandchildren, and the tension in the air dissipated as she spoke.

"Just us," Aang said. It was everything he could do to not touch his arrows or try to hide them.

But she didn't seem to recognize their meaning, or maybe she didn't see that well. "Really? Well, I suppose there's safety in numbers, but with the full moon coming, I'm not quite certain I'd take the chance," she said good-naturedly.

"A man mentioned that in town," said Katara. "You believe something is out here taking people?"

"Why do you think I'm headed home? You should too if you have any sense."

"We don't have anywhere to stay. And we're only staying the night."

"More than one messenger boy thought the same thing, I'm sure," replied the woman. She looked at them, her gaze resting a moment on each before she offered, "I won't be able to shelter your beast, but I have room enough for a few kids to sleep. If you want. My name is Hama. My inn is just over there." She pointed to her left into the forest. "Five minutes away. I'll have some nice supper with hot tea in no time."

Katara turned to gauge the rest of the group. Aang thought Hama seemed nice enough, and especially after turning down Piandao, it had been forever since they stayed under a roof. Sokka's stomach spoke for him but he said, rubbing the back of his head, "I'd rather not be kidnapped." Toph agreed as well, though she was more focused on the prospect of food. As for Zuko, he hesitated to accept the invitation until Sokka said, "C'mon, Lee. It's not a hard decision: food or no food."

"We have food—"

He started to gesture to the berries they had picked earlier, but Sokka interrupted: "Hot, real food."

"Those would make for a great dessert, if you don't mind me saying," Hama said from behind Katara's turned back.

Knowing he was outvoted, Zuko nodded once. "Fine."

-o-0-

They grabbed their few supplies and followed the old woman, Katara first making sure Aang slipped on the same cowl Zuko used when visiting Piandao to hide his arrow. Hama might not have recognized him, but the other people staying at the inn would.

Hama's inn was five minutes away, as promised. It was on the edge of town on a hill that overlooked the lights from the various houses and markets interspersed in the trees below. The inn itself was modest but neat, Katara thought. When asked about five kids taking up too much space, Hama waved a hand and said she hadn't anyone staying there at the moment. "It's no problem. Might as well make myself of some use. Besides, there's that thing in the woods."

"Do you think it's someone or something?" Aang asked Hama.

Instead, Sokka replied, "It reeks of Spirit World shenanigans if you ask me."

Hama directed Katara to help with dinner by chopping up vegetables then said, "I'm too old to believe that Spirit World nonsense." Katara paused her slicing. Everyone else had stopped what they were doing to look at Hama. "I seem to have offended you."

"No!" Aang cried, putting his hands up to placate her. "It's just…we've seen things. The Spirit World is real; you just may not have experienced it."

"Hm," she said wordlessly and worked on stirring in the ingredients for the stew she was making, focusing much more than was required.

The food was served and very little conversation followed other than polite thanks from Katara and the others, and equally polite comments by Hama. They were shown their rooms on the second floor on the opposite end of the inn above the kitchen so that it was uncomfortably warm but cooled when the kitchen fire was extinguished.

The five of them were together in a moderately-sized room. Hama had offered for them to stay in separate rooms, but they declined to take more advantage of her kindness. The room's wood floors and paneling were worn and uneven, but there was a large window on the far wall with two beds on either side opposite the door. Sokka and Toph claimed these but were forced to concede the softer blankets to Aang, Zuko, and Katara in return.

Though they were thoroughly tired, they stayed up and discussed the following day in hushed tones. "Appa should be rested enough for tomorrow. We could leave and get there early like we want to," Aang said. "But I wonder about whatever is taking people. You're right, Sokka, it does make me think of Senlin, and it's my job to be the bridge between our world and the Spirit World."

"A spirit was taking people at sunset—it took Sokka too—and Aang realized it was mad at the Fire Nation for burning down its forest," Katara supplied for Toph's and Zuko's benefits.

"How did you beat it?" Toph asked Aang.

"I said I understood how it felt to lose a big part of itself but that there was hope for the forest to grow back."

"That's it? Then it, what, gave Sokka and everyone back?"

Aang nodded.

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"We still have a day before we need to leave," Katara said, bringing them back around to what the next day would have in store. "We could see if there's anything we can do to help."

Bouncing his legs, Aang said excitably, "We'll find out what these people did to the environment to make the spirits mad—"

"And then you can sew up this little mystery lickety-split, Avatar style!" Sokka finished, nodding.

Looking happier than he had been in days, Aang grinned and said proudly, "Helping people: it's what I do."

-o-0-

Looking down his nose at him, Ozai towered over Aang, watching him. The small, bare room in the Southern Air Temple held them comfortably with no others in sight—no soldiers; no friends. Aang noticed Ozai wore armor like Zuko had when they first met: shoulder armor that curved up to points, golden ones that looked sharp enough to impale; and a helmet hiding what he knew to be a horribly scarred face.

It was as if invisible chains held Aang's body frozen, yet he knew it was no one's fault but his that he was in this position. It was that accusing dread which flooded his mind and kept him from thinking or moving from that point. He had gone out on his own, afraid for his friends, but had abandoned them instead.

"They will die because of you." The deep, gravelly voice pounded itself into his heart. "All of them."

"No!" His voiced sounded weird. Too loud. He tried shutting his eyes but he couldn't. Then it was like he blinked, and Ozai was gone and the room they had been in was in disarray and overgrown like some glimpse into a desolate future. Master Gyatso's bloodied body lay in the corner, his face odd and twisted, yet it was him, Aang knew. And yet, still, he couldn't move to reach him. Around Master Gyatso were others, sleeping figures he knew to be dead: Toph, Sokka, Katara—Appa too, despite his size, fit next to Master Gyatso's body.

"No!" he cried out, his heart aching with pain and loss. "No, please."

"It's your fault! It's your fault!" Ozai said again and again. "Your fault, Aang—!"

-o-0-

"Aang!"

Hands grabbed at Aang, and he thrashed for a moment before he recognized Zuko in the darkness. It was the middle of the night, again. Dark nightmares were made darker by the looming invasion. During the day, he could forget it—focus on training or flying or solving a problem—but when things were quiet and his thoughts wandered…

"You were making noises," Zuko said, letting go of him. Aang had made a point of sleeping far from Katara, who lied between Sokka and Toph in their beds, and closer to the door. This also meant Zuko was the closest person to Aang as he had chosen to sleep near the foot of the beds.

Listening, there didn't seem to be any movement other than the occasional shift in position or deep breathing. "Did I wake anyone?" he checked.

"I don't think so. Everyone was tired after today, and you weren't that loud."

"Oh, okay." He hung his head a little. "But I woke you up. Sorry."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Bad dreams too?"

"I don't know… I guess, but it's okay."

Not so much the images, but the feelings and knowledge of his dream from a minute ago swept over him, still very real. "I dreamt about Ozai. What does he look like? I just realized we've never seen each other before." The man who wants to kill me—I don't even know what he looks like.

The moonlight came through the window but fell short of Zuko and Aang so that their faces were lit by its soft, indirect glow. Zuko frowned and didn't say anything immediately. "He's a hard man," he started in a stilted fashion. "Angry a lot. Not much makes him happy." Realizing this wasn't much of a physical description, Zuko started again: "He looks like me." He said it simply, though quick and painful like pulling a knife from a wound. "Older, of course, but same eyes, hair. He has a beard." Zuko mimicked a thin beard from his chin.

"No scars or anything on his face?" Aang asked, remembering how he looked in his dream.

Zuko let out a stifled scoff. "No, he was his father's son. No scars for him."

The dead bodies, peacefully sleeping… They didn't look dead.

Zuko rubbed his eyes and then looked at Aang expectantly as if readying for another question. But Aang didn't ask—couldn't.

Are we going to win?

"What?" Zuko prompted, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Aang shrugged. "Just dreams," he replied offhandedly.

"We have enough to worry about without trying to interpret what those mean."

"Do you dream?"

"I used to. I think I still do, but I don't remember when I wake up. Probably for the better."

"They must mean something."

"I don't know," Zuko replied, "but now's not the time to talk about this. We should sleep." Seeing Aang not move from his sitting position, he added, "Uncle told me when I was little that dreams' meanings could be written for us or written by us, though either way they are almost never straightforward in meaning. What did you dream?"

His dream seemed mighty straightforward, but what could Zuko do about it if he told him? If this was a glimpse into the future, how did that change anything? And if it wasn't, wouldn't telling Zuko make him lose faith that they would win? "I saw Ozai and…and he made fun of me."

A little annoyed, Zuko asked, "Why did that bother you? I don't think the Fire Lord will be making jokes when you meet."

Aang lowered himself down into his cushioned blanket. "I guess not."

"I think you're still half-asleep. Good night." Lying down, Zuko nodded once to Aang before he turned over with his back to him.

"Good night," Aang replied softly.