For once, Katara was woken up by Momo rather than nightmares or simply too many thoughts buzzing around her head. For once in what felt to be the longest time, she felt the sun press its warmth on her face and body and she imagined what a sunrise might feel like after the war was over, certainly nothing as great as this. Looking over at the other lumps of blankets and tangled extremities—mostly belonging to Aang and Sokka—Katara had to smile: somehow at some point they had become more than friends, more than family, if that were possible.
And it was all at stake.
Her smile disappeared as the golden hues of sunlight flared then faded, letting blue begin to take over the sky.
Momo nudged her leg for breakfast, and Katara was eager to take full advantage of the excuse to enter the larger camp in search of something to eat. She tapped her shoulder and Momo leapt up, perching himself on her right shoulder while his tail curled itself around her neck.
"Katara?"
She looked over to see Zuko rubbing his eyes and peering at her sleepily. "I'm getting something to eat. I'll be back," she explained.
Propping himself up on one arm, he mumbled, "Mh. Need help?"
"It's okay. Go back to sleep."
"Thanks… Katara?"
She turned back to him after taking less than half a step. "Yes?"
The pendant, almost unnaturally blue, hung in plain view from Zuko's neck and swayed with each movement. After another beat, he shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, and laid back down.
Then Katara and Momo were off, descending the small slope. The number of supplies and tents had grown in just the last three days and their numbers had swelled to nearly 500 men, close to a hundred from the South and the rest from their Northern brethren. Some of the tents looked to be stolen Fire Nation tents with their simple, square canvas designs, and others were circular and covered with fur pelts or skins. As a result, what had begun as organized lines of shelters turned into scattered gatherings around campfires with no clear path to navigate. These gatherings ended at the base of the rise to Aang and the others. Obviously, they had been instructed to not go past that point.
Why keep us away, Dad? Though he had said he wanted nothing more than to talk, Dad hadn't found the time to make his way to her yet. Sokka gave his excuses each night; he was always busy with something it seemed.
She wandered among the tents, angling towards the center of camp. Most people were still asleep with only a few poking their heads out or moving inside their shelters. One or two had a fire going nearby, and they nodded to her as she passed. Outside another tent, a woman, a Northern healer no doubt, spotted Katara and whispered, "Master Katara."
After passing more tents, she made it to the main road—if one could call it that. Sandy soil had been beaten down and churned back up by hundreds of pairs of feet. The tents on either side here were predominantly Water Tribe, and it looked like some had been there longer than others. It was hard to tell if the materials outside the tents and lining the road were trash or useful supplies. Maybe it was both.
A pair of Southern guards in their Wolf uniforms stood at the end of the road in front of the Chief's Home. The Chief's Home included much more than a bed—in fact, it had to be big enough to host meetings with other chieftains, their families, or, in this case, several captains and elders. The name was only a further reminder of the invisible separation that had come between Katara and her father. Why?
"He's still asleep," informed the left warrior, Aliska, not unkindly when she stopped in front of him. Both men were known to her as they and another four made up her father's personal guards. Bato had ordered it against his wishes.
"I need to talk with him," she retorted. "We have an appointment."
"When he's up," replied the younger guard, Rakan.
"If I wait, he's going to be too busy to talk to me. Again."
"That's what the Chief does. He barely leaves the tent as it is."
"I'm his daughter, and you won't let me talk with him?"
"I'm sorry, but he told us to only wake him if we're attacked."
"What's this?" Bato seemingly appeared at Katara's side and petted Momo's head. He looked up from the creature at the guards. "I think he was joking. Besides, I need to talk to him too."
"Sorry—"
"We received a hawk last evening from a ship headed our way. They should be arriving this morning, and Chief Hakoda needs to be there to welcome them and oversee the equipment. Now, I admit that doesn't constitute an attack, but I suspect he will not be happy if you made him late because you took his joke too seriously." Without looking, he waved one hand in Katara's direction. "And, spirits, she's his daughter. Warm your lips before you try to say something like that again."
"Yes—sorry, Bato."
"I told you!" whispered Rakan to Aliska. "You can go in," he said to them, smiling nervously.
Bato's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He pulled back the entrance cover, calling out, "You better be dressed! Your daughter is here!"
"Yes, I know." Dad walked in from one of the additions that branched out from the main "room" they all stood in now. He was fully dressed in his usual grey-blue attire, but it had seen better days and had likely been slept in for most of those. "I heard you announce yourself in your usual fashion." He smiled.
Bato jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "You know I chose those men? I chose them, and now they won't let me in unless I have a good reason."
In mock outrage, Dad replied, "I know! Who thought they were a good idea?"
But Bato didn't find it funny. "I thought they had some sense in them. I guess I thought wrong."
"Now, now, they're alright. A little nervous for tomorrow, I expect." Addressing Katara for the first time, he remarked, "Did you know Sokka will be leading part of the meeting today? I sprang it on him yesterday, but I think he's ready. He reminds me so much of when I was his age."
"Yes, he's been gone so much I expect he's ready to follow in your footsteps and leave entirely," she replied. They were cold, petty words that she immediately regretted though not enough to say so.
Dad frowned. He actually looks confused! she thought with dark amusement.
"I'll let you two talk," said Bato. "I'll come back when the ship has almost landed." His friend nodded but didn't take his eyes off Katara, and he bowed slightly then left.
When he was gone, Dad asked, "What is it?"
Rather than answering, she picked Momo up and set him down to explore. "Momo's hungry. The others aren't up yet, but they will be soon."
"I'll have the cook make something and have someone bring it up."
She watched Momo as she spoke. "We're fine coming down ourselves."
"I can't treat my children and their friends? You've no doubt been though a lot recently—" Katara mirthlessly chuckled. "Katara." His order, a mixture of anger and pleading, caused her to snap her attention back to him. "Tell me. What is it?"
She tried leaving the emotion out of her voice when she answered with her own question: "Why haven't you wanted to see me?"
"I want nothing more than to see you. It's just that I've been—"
"Busy," she said.
"Did you think it would be easy, doing this? Katara, we are a day away from launching an offense on the greatest empire ever known."
"You have time for Sokka."
"Sokka wants to spend time with me. He wants to help. You—"
She seized upon his comment: "And I don't?" she exclaimed.
"You help in a different way: you're helping the Avatar train and—"
"I'm fighting too!"
"Yes, I know." He ran his hand over his head. "Believe me, I know. You haven't come to one meeting, though, have you?" She didn't answer, and he continued, placing his hands on her shoulders, "But you want to help, and I love that you want to help me—and you are helping me through the Avatar and, yes, fighting. Sokka is helping me with the planning so I get to see him more." He frowned a little. "You're a smart girl, Katara; you should know this."
She nodded her agreement, but it was still so unfair.
"When this is all over, we'll have more time together; I promise. Now, what is truly bothering you?"
Her face must have shown her surprise because he replied to her unspoken question: "I know you too well. You never give in after such a short argument. Tell me; what happened?"
"I…I did something bad, I think."
Dad's eyebrows lifted then knit together. "You think? Hm, sounds like you're taking a precarious position already: judging your actions when you don't know what they were. Here." They retreated into his private room where he had emerged from. "Sit," he ordered, and the two of them sat on the fur-covered cot. "Tell me everything—as much as you can before Bato comes, and he will be here soon enough."
She didn't tell him everything. How could he understand what it was like to bloodbend waterbend? Or how, rather than feeling the energy and life of the water, she felt her heart grow cold and hard when she bloodbended?
But, in the end, she did tell him what mattered. After briefly explaining how Zuko was taken and what had happened when he and Aang were in danger, she said, "I know I saved Zuko and Aang, but, this thing that I did, I think it changed me. I won't be able to do it during Day of Black Sun—and I don't want to—but I feel like I got colder that day, and I'll only get colder and colder until I don't feel anything at all."
Dad rubbed his beard along his jaw, the quiet, rough sound of it filling the silence that hung between them. "I have an idea of what you did, Katara," he said after a moment.
He doesn't think… "I didn't kill her," she quickly replied.
"I know, but thank you for telling me. I meant I understand the kind of thing that would make you feel that. I've felt it. It's a balance: you need to be tough to face these kinds of people, but you need to keep your humanity."
"If we lose our morals, we become the bad guys."
He tilted his head. "I wouldn't say it quite like that. More like, you lessen life's value to you and the price you're willing to pay to protect it—or end it. A man without morals, a woman too for that matter, can still do good; it's their reason for doing good that has changed." He continued, "What I was going to say, though, is that I went through the same thing in my first few battles. I questioned everything: why I was there; why I was doing this, fighting this war; everything.
"It was when I began to develop battle plans and sought out how to take people's lives that I questioned if I had grown heartless. I had to sometimes sacrifice my own men to win the greater battle at stake if strategy was on my side. Sometimes it wasn't, and I had to take risks, sometimes they were risks I shouldn't have taken."
"So…?"
"How did I know if I was heartless? How did I stop the darkness from spreading? Simple: I pictured standing in front of your mother and Sokka and you. I'd see you and imagine how you would react to what I did. Of course, you were too small at the time to understand what I had done if I told you, but knowing you were there as something to answer to, well, it did its purpose. Most days it was easy, others were harder, but all of you kept me—it—from getting worse.
"And you know what? The mere fact that I cared about what you thought made me know I was still a human with a beating heart." His voice softened: "I still care about what you think of me."
And though it had felt like months and years since they last spoke, time snapped together so that it was just like it was before Mom died. He always seemed to know what was on her mind and knew exactly what to say. Where Mom was good with showing her love, Dad had the words to express what they both felt: "And I want you to know that there is nothing, nothing you could do that would make me want to stop loving you. I wish you weren't here because that means you're going to fight and, as proud as that makes me, I am so scared that you're going to get hurt. I can tolerate a lot of pain—" his voice caught, "but I don't think I could stand to watch you get hurt or worse."
"Okay," she replied, her voice sounding very small and herself feeling very young.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. The feeling of "home" enveloped her, and Katara lifted her chin and smiled. "Thanks, Dad," she said, keeping her voice just above a whisper.
What he said may not have been completely true—there might be something she could do to make him hate her—but there was nonetheless truth to what he said and so much she wanted to believe. Regardless, he loved her now, knowing she had done something terrible. All she needed to do was not make it worse.
Who could she make herself answer to?
With a quiet grunt, Dad stood. "I'll get Cook to make you five bowls you can bring back to your friends—six, with the little one here." He gestured to Momo.
"Thanks."
-o-0-
Droplets of blood led away, blazing a trail from the worn, dirt path and into the forest full of young trees and dense underbrush. The hunt for the criminal continued, but he was running on borrowed time. He'd be caught soon enough.
What the criminal had done to deserve Sokka hunting him didn't come immediately to mind, but it was a good reason and, really, it didn't matter at the moment. Sokka continued wacking away the branches that grabbed at his clothes and hair.
Something made him stop. A feeling—no, a hunch. The blood led away, but something wasn't right.
Certainty of an impending attack gripped him, then something unseen and unfriendly pulled at his arms and shoulders. It was an attack! He needed his sword. Where was his sword?—
-o-0-
Blankets tangled his arms together so that Sokka awoke with a panicked search for freedom and a weapon. As always, Space Sword was beside him, though under the now bunched-up blanket that had tried to attack him in his dream.
The sun was up, and the salty air cooled him in the intense sunlight. He looked around at the others, still asleep. Katara was gone. He frowned and made another pass, glancing in all directions to make sure of it.
Nothing.
Hm.
They were in a safe area so it was unlikely she'd been taken, and while she'd been acting weird lately, she'd never leave. Not like Aang, he thought with some leftover feelings of that discovery.
So where was she?
Where Katara slept to his right, Toph slept to his left. He poked her back. "Hey…hey."
"What?" she growled without turning.
"Where'd Katara go?"
"I dunno. Ask her…whatever he is. Smokey."
Rolling over, he faced Zuko two beds over, Katara's empty sleeping pad and blankets between them. "Hey." He threw a pebble at his face, succeeding to wake him up after three pebbles and two of those bouncing harmlessly off his blanket and clothes.
Zuko's arms jerked as his eyes snapped open. "What is it?"
"Relax. Do you know where Katara is?"
The firebender did as he was told. "Oh. She said she was going to get food." He squinted at the morning sun. "But that was a while ago," he said, sitting up. "The sun hadn't risen yet."
"I'm not worried about that," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Just didn't know where she was."
He nodded, but didn't lay back down. "I wanted to talk to you, actually. About Katara."
"Katara?" His voice sounded higher than normal. "What about her?" Be cool, he told himself. It wasn't every day that someone wanted to talk to him about his sister and in that way. Don't scare him off.
"You've noticed she's been acting odd—different," Zuko quickly checked himself.
His excitement fell. "You had it right the first time: odd. Because of Hama and whatever happened there."
"I've talked with her about it, but I don't know if I made things worse. I don't even know if talking about it more is the answer; I just want her to get better."
"Zuko, what did happen there?" He had heard Aang's account of him being controlled by Hama and Zuko nearly killing him, but there had to be more to it than his sister almost seeing her friends die. She'd seen it before—several times, in fact.
Zuko shook his head. "Something amazingly brave and powerful, or something awful, or both; depends on who you ask."
"Where do you fall?"
"She did both, but mostly the first thing."
"What did she do that was bad?"
"You know she took control of Hama?"
"Yeah, Aang told me that."
"Right. I don't know exactly what it is, but I know it has to do with that. When Hama had control of my body, I felt like it wasn't mine anymore, like I was a spirit watching from inside. It felt…personal. My body had been invaded. I don't know what it's like for the invader, but it must not feel good either."
"You think that's what caused her to be all weird?"
He shrugged. "I really don't know, and I don't know what to do to help." His glance shifted to something behind Sokka, and he twisted around to find Aang sitting up.
Aang's bed was closest to Appa on the other side of Toph, and he called over her: "Sorry, I was listening. I think we should keep telling her how nice and good she is. If we repeat it enough, she'll believe it."
"What do you say, Toph?" Sokka asked. There was no way she wasn't listening to them.
Toph turned over to face them. "I think she'll tell us when she'll tell us. When has she not tried to boss everyone around once she knows what she wants?"
"I wish she'd talk to us," Aang remarked with a sigh.
"She did try. Last night or this morning," Zuko said.
Sokka tried to look surprised. "And she didn't give any clue what could help her?"
"Not any more than what I've already said."
After a pause, Sokka said, "It's decided then," trying to remember how Dad made uncertain decisions with such confidence. "We'll try to be nice and cheer her up, but not press her about it. Got it?"
Three heads nodded in agreement.
-o-0-
Sokka swallowed a mouthful of smoked fish. "This is really good, Katara. Did you make it?"
"No, the cook made it. I picked it up."
"And so quickly too—with big portions!" Aang said, digging at the heaping bowl of rice with a green sauce poured over top. He was being a bit too eager with his compliments, and Sokka elbowed him in the side. Katara didn't have anything to say, but she nodded.
They were around a campfire circle without a fire. Their food was hot and the air was warm so there was no need to light one; still, it felt right to gather around and eat and talk.
Changing the subject, Sokka said, "Are you coming to my presentation? Everyone is going to be there."
This brought her out of her stupor, and she replied reproachfully, "Yes, of course." Then she blinked and said, "Oh, that reminds me: there are more men coming today. Bato and Dad are going to meet them when they arrive. It sounded like it would be soon."
"That's right; Dad mentioned it yesterday. You know, it's really quite amazing," he said to all of them. "There are people from every nation, every tribe here trying to fight. You know people are serious when the North is sending their healers. I didn't know they let them leave—"
"I saw one when I went to get food. She called me 'Master Katara.' " Though her tone initially seemed to Sokka to be full of awe, she quickly bowed her head and didn't continue.
Sokka glanced at Zuko for direction, but his gaze was fixed on hers. For a handful of seconds, Sokka watched Zuko shamelessly look at her and try to catch her eye. Then, when the lack of conversation was apparent, he looked over and saw Sokka. His face turned a laughably dark shade of red, and his eyes darted away to his food.
He really does like her.
"You are a master, though." Thank the spirits for Aang. "And a really good one."
When Katara didn't reply, Toph added, "I really don't see why they'd call her that."
"Because—" Aang was quick to reply but stopped when Toph "stared" at him then gestured at Katara.
In the silence, Katara looked up. "I trained under Master Pakku when we were in the Northern Water Tribe. Before that I taught myself."
"I taught myself too, but no one calls me 'Master Toph.' "
Aang replied, "I call you—"
"Aang calls you—" Katara began at the same time, stopped, then smiled faintly. She nodded to Aang, saying, "You call her 'Sifu.' "
"Only when he's trying to annoy me," said the earthbender.
That brought an involuntary chuckle out of Sokka.
No one had anything else to add to the topic so conversation faded into finishing breakfast.
It was Katara who broke the silence first: "How are you guys feeling about tomorrow?"
No one spoke up immediately, but Aang was first to answer: "I'm as ready as I'll ever be to beat Ozai. Between us, the eclipse, and everyone else here to help and fight, I know we can do it."
"Hear hear!" Sokka raised his nearly-empty bowl in salute.
Katara didn't look reassured. "Can we go over the plan for Ozai? I know we said that our plans never really work out so why should we plan in the first place, but—"
"Actually, I've been able to talk to Dad and Bato about it." Sokka set down his bowl and straightened. The others (except Toph, of course) leaned forward to hear. "I've been flying Appa for a little while so I have an idea of how fast and how far he can go in a day. According to Zuko, the Boiling Rock is over the mountain range, north-northeast. I wish I had…" He padded himself down for a map but of course he didn't have his as he had left it for Dad to use. Giving up, he said, "Anyway, we figured if we rode hard, we could probably get there in a little over a day. We'd have to fly nonstop, though." They all nodded.
"Now, the hardest part was Ozai, as in, how do we restrain him? The eclipse will stop his firebending for a few minutes and we'll need to find him, stop him, and restrain him in that time."
"I'm guessing chaining him up wouldn't work?" Toph asked.
Zuko shook his head, and Sokka answered, "That is still an option, but it's risky since we know Zuko doesn't need much movement to firebend, even breathing fire—which is so unfair, by the way, that you can do that—and with all of us on Appa in the sky…yeah."
Zuko remarked, "And he's much more powerful than me. He's probably the most powerful firebender in the world." He ran his hand through his hair. "But you do have a plan—right, Sokka? Other than coming up with it in the moment?"
Aang grinned. "Worked well enough on you."
"Yeah," he replied sheepishly.
He didn't want to share it until the presentation, but why not? "Yes, and everything we need should be done today," said Sokka.
"Is it coming with the ship?" asked Katara.
"Not exactly," he replied, rubbing his hands together eagerly. To Katara's questioning expression, he elaborated: "There are a few surprises aboard I won't mention yet—you'll find out soon enough—but, no, we're getting it from Dad. As you guys probably noticed, I've spent a lot of time with him—"
"No way," said Toph.
"Ha. Ha. You're so funny. Anyway, I've been helping with this new plan now that we are definitely capturing him. We needed to figure out the best way to slow Ozai down without killing him, and we did: plant powder." To the team's varying degrees of confusion and amusement—except Zuko, he noted—Sokka replied, "Okay, so I don't know the exact way it's created, but basically if we can get him to breathe it in or drink it, he won't be able to move his body for a few hours. If we can keep it going, we should be able to have enough time to bring him to the Boiling Rock."
Nodding, Zuko said, "That might work."
"I took the idea from what happened to you," replied Sokka.
"That's one problem solved," Aang concluded with a satisfied nod.
"Why'd you wait to tell us?" Zuko asked.
"Well, we just told Dad a few days ago, and we didn't come up with the idea until yesterday. We didn't know it would be possible until last night." He chuckled. "And we thought we were cutting it close before."
"Hey, look!" Aang stood, pointing at the ocean and a distant dark blot on the horizon. "That wouldn't be the last ship, would it?"
"I sure hope so," Zuko said. "If it isn't, we'd be in trouble."
-o-0-
They watched the ship slowly make its way nearer to the makeshift docks: tree trunks lashed together and bobbing in the water. Zuko called it out as an Earth Kingdom design or, rather, a ship not of Fire Nation or Water Tribe origin. As it slid against the dock, several sailors threw down ropes to others below and secured the boat.
Aang leapt up from where he had been watching. "I want to see it!"
"I can show you. I should head down and meet them with Dad anyways," said Sokka. "We'll be explaining the whole plan from start to finish soon, too, probably when they get settled in. My part will be at the very beginning." He puffed out his chest a little. "He said it was an important part because it can set the tone of the whole thing."
Toph cracked a smile and said, "This'll be the only meeting I'll try to arrive on time. Nothing better to do, I guess."
"I've saved spots at the front for you guys."
"Thanks," said Zuko. Noticing Katara hadn't said that much, he checked back with her. Her expression made her feel far away. It was becoming all too regular for her. "Katara."
Toph noticed and bended a pebble at her. "Sweetness."
Her expression quickly turned into irritation, and she replied, "What?" then, equally quickly, added, "Sorry. I was just thinking about other things."
The others mumbled their acknowledgements and excuses, trying to give her the space they thought she needed. But it has to stop. Not only did this departure from her usual self put her and others in danger, but it hurt to see her so uncertain about herself when he could tell her—and had told her—what was true.
Enough. "We could all go down and see it, Sokka, but could I talk with Katara, you know, alone? For a minute or so?"
"Zuko—" Katara started.
Sokka nodded, but the way he looked at Zuko made him think he knew something. He did catch me staring at Katara. Spirits, does he know? It was undisputedly not the time to be thinking about that, but it seemed his mind didn't care and ran away with ideas of its own.
"I mean, it'll just be for a minute or two. I—I just need to talk with her. Nothing serious—too serious, I mean—I mean—"
"Say no more, Smokey. Twinkletoes, Cactus Man, come on; we'll let them catch up. Meet you at the ship." She nodded to him and sped ahead with Aang following and asking questions. It seemed Toph had picked up on his…interest…in Katara. How was it that everyone else seemed to know except Katara—and Aang?
But it didn't matter. There was a battle about to happen and distracted minds like hers could get her killed. He had tried giving her space and not pushing, but that obviously wasn't working.
She shook her head. "You didn't need to send them away. We can talk—"
"I've tried talking to you. But you don't want to. So now we're here." Surprise and anger crossed her face. "Katara, you aren't going to turn into her." She had opened her mouth to reply but closed it when Hama was mentioned, and he pressed his opportunity: "And you need to stop thinking about it and her. I can see it in your face: you're reliving it again and again; but, you see, you can't change anything. You're torturing yourself for saving us. That's insane!"
"I told you—"
"You told me you felt like you were turning into someone you weren't. I didn't think you were, but I promised to try to stop you if you did." As he spoke, he realized what it was that prompted him to confront her, regardless of her thoughts on the matter. "And you know what? You are turning into someone else. You're turning into this angry, isolated person. Everyone has been trying to give you space, but we don't have time for you to be afraid anymore."
His own frustrations lessened, and he softened his tone: "You're a good person, Katara. Do you make mistakes? Yes. Did Hama make you do something bad? Yes, but that doesn't make you a bad person. It really doesn't, and if you don't realize that now then you'll have to trust me on it."
"But what if… I feel so different since it happened. Cold."
I can help make you warm again. It was more than some romantic thought, something out of one of the plays he watched as a child, but it was a real urge to do whatever he could to bring joy back into her eyes and warmth in her cheeks. He stepped closer, as close as he dared, and looked down at her and she looked back at him, seemingly pleading with her eyes. "I wasn't lying when I said you are the best person I know," he whispered. "If you are lost, we are lost. If you are lost, I—" His voice hitched a little and he broke eye contact. Heart pounding, he forced himself to look, and he finished with the full knowledge of what he was saying: "I am lost."
Her breathing wavered quietly with his. It felt like all other sounds had been silenced because that was all he could hear: breathing.
"Zuko—"
Her face. Her tone. It was the end, the end of the things he hadn't dared hope for but had without realizing. "It's fine," he said, taking a step back and shaking his head. A sudden feeling of weakness, like he was open to an attack, set itself upon him, but he ignored it as best he could. "What matters is you need to focus and stop thinking about her. I don't know what's going to happen out there, but you need to survive."
"Zuko—"
He started to follow the path the others took down the steep hill to the larger camp. "I said what I wanted to say—"
"Zuko! Can't you let me talk for two seconds?!"
He closed his eyes then turned back to her, expecting to see fury when he opened them. She was angry, yes, but it had been overrun by something else that softened her face and the intense look in her eyes he knew she was capable of conjuring up. It appeared she was at a loss for words until her shoulders slumped, and she spoke, half-whispering, half-mouthing her words: "I can't." She shook her head. "Not now."
"I know. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said anything." The only thing that could relieve what embarrassing feelings he was experiencing was to get away from her for a while. Just enough time to compose himself again. "I should go."
"No, thank you for telling me." She sniffed, and he realized Katara had barely held her own composure. "It's just…with the war and tomorrow…"
But when else could he speak? When else could they have the opportunity to, well, to know how they felt about each other? I suppose we do now. Waving his hand once, he cast aside the notion of anything more happening. "Forget it."
"I hope I didn't make you think, you know, anything." She began fiddling with her sleeve and only stopped when she noticed his gaze resting on it.
"You did," he said quietly and without malice.
A pause as she looked away, then a nod, and after clearing her throat she said with equal volume, "I'm sorry."
No, no, no, this wasn't what he wanted! She needed to come out of her shell, not sink deeper into it. Releasing a sigh of pent-up energy and his own frustration, he said, "Look, we can talk after," if we survive, "but right now we need you here. Not in your thoughts. I know—believe me, I know. You're trying to figure out what you could have done differently, but you can't change the past, Katara—"
"I know!" she said, eyeing him fiercely. Continuing to raise her voice, she said, her voice shaking with unchecked emotion, "Can't I—Can't I be angry at myself?! Can't I take a second and hate myself and what I did?! Aren't I allowed to—to just be?! And why do I have to take care of everyone? I'm just a—" the tears began to flow and she finished shortly, "just a girl."
He had meant to interrupt, to yell, but there was nothing to say that hadn't already been said. Maybe in time she would realize the truth of his words, but he could only tell her quietly, "You don't have time, Katara." Trying to mirror how she had been towards him the last few weeks—what felt like ages ago—he said gently, "Please. Don't think about it now or tomorrow. You can't be afraid of what you can do because if you begin to, you're dead." And I don't know what would happen if that happened. "That's all I wanted to say."
"Okay." She gave a jerking nod.
"Do you—?" he said, just as Katara had decided to say, "Can you—?"
Zuko forced a single chuckle out. "You go first."
"Can you give me a second? Just to be by myself?"
To think? "Okay, but not for too long. I think we're supposed to meet with Hakoda and the others soon." When she nodded her agreement, he turned his back on her again and began the brisk walk down the hill, past the camp, and to the dock, but before he took more than three steps, Katara called his name again.
"Wait, Zuko, what were you going to ask me?"
"Do you want me to do something to help?" he replied. The resulting embarrassed expression that bloomed on Katara's face wasn't what he intended, but, spirits, it was good to see something other than the muted depression she had fallen into. "If there's anything else I can do," Zuko added, nodding, "let me know."
As he turned his back on her for a final time, a relieving heat coursed through him. He'd finally told her. Finally, he thought. Again, relief swept through him, though not without a certain amount of disappointment accompanying it. It was like he had just regained his footing during a fight with an evenly-matched opponent. Katara wasn't his opponent, but they were evenly matched, and it had felt like he had been at a disadvantage every time he talked to her. This time was no different, but he had instead left her as more of an equal than before.
He rubbed the back of his neck before slipping it back by his side when a group of four men jogged down the narrow path, each with a spear in his hand. He looked back to find Katara, but she was hidden in the sea of tents and pelts.
She'd come when she was ready.
-o-0-
Katara watched Zuko leave and followed a few steps behind him soon after, not eager to continue their conversation. In contradiction to his orders, she couldn't help but ponder his simple statement. 'I am lost without you'? With that kind of hold over him, how could she think of anything else? Every interaction, conversation, and look was analyzed and reanalyzed, her mind vacillating between blushing thoughts and something akin to mild outrage. Why did he decide to tell me now?
Down the hill and navigating around several tents, her attention remained fixed within and only half-aware of her ultimate destination: the docks. There was no mistaking where that was. On flatter ground with no clear view of the ocean, she could see the tall masts from the two ships sticking up high above the tents. Knowing where it was made the journey no less difficult: with the exception of the main path that led from the docks to the Chief's Home, each tribe's and nation's way of things differed. The organization of the camps reflected this—that is, there was very little organization.
Why did he tell me? she thought again. A flutter made itself known before she swiftly tried to convince herself that it didn't mean anything.
But while she could hide them from everyone else, she could not stop the thoughts that crossed her mind: He told me. Me! She wanted to smile, but something more powerful stopped her. After his confession, Zuko weighed on her mind as another responsibility, another patient to care for. Another person I can control, she realized, with the added feeling of revulsion towards herself for thinking those things.
Have I always been like this? It didn't feel like these thoughts were something she would have considered before Hama, but at the same time it felt like they were something she would have known nonetheless, though maybe not in such a blatant way.
How much darkness had existed in her, hidden away before Hama brought it to the surface?
Arriving at the docks, Katara saw several tribesmen standing to one side next to crates of every size. Others hauled cargo nets full of mundane supplies, and still other tribesmen grunted under the weight of chests that let out a metallic jingle whenever they were jostled. A man from the group next to the crates, tall and bulky and old, said something and the rest laughed and tried talking over one another in response.
Katara turned away. Zuko was nowhere to be found, not here on the docks anyway, nor anyone else. Weren't they supposed to meet there?
"Sh, sh! Watch! Watch now, children," the old man said to the others, and they fell silent. "If you had been on alert, you should have felt him come close."
Sure enough, when Katara watched, she saw a dark, massive shape in the water. More than that, though, if she focused, she could feel the water pushing… Knitting her brow, she double checked herself. The water was being pushed and pulled, unnaturally too. No riptide she knew of acted exactly like that and something—
Katara flinched at the sudden breaking of the water's surface, revealing dark gray metal. She turned to the man who seemed to know what was happening, but before she could say anything, a loud, "Wow! That was amazing!" rang through the air.
Instinctively, her eyes were drawn to the origin, and her mouth moved as she spied the speaker: "Aang!"
The boy was standing on one of the Earth Kingdom ships' cross beams. What does Dad call them, yards? "Hey!" he yelled again and waved this time, a grin evident even from this distance.
Another movement caught her eye and, right below Aang at the base of the mast, were the others, including Zuko. Sokka was waving her over while Toph said something to Zuko who then shook his head.
She walked the wooden platform that connected the makeshift docks to the ship. Green and tan Earth Kingdom banners hung from posts on either side of the entrance, welcoming her and anyone else coming aboard.
'I hope I didn't make you think anything.'
'You did.'
Nothing happened; nothing can happen. Not now, she told herself.
"Katara?" A voice said on her right.
"Hm?" The only part of her that remained in the present moment had been watching her feet. Based on the tone of the question, she had missed something that had been said.
Seeing who spoke to her, she stopped. "Haru?"
He looked different than before: bigger, more mature. A massive mustache covered what seemed to be half his face.
"Hi." He gave a little wave. "How have you been? Helping out more Earth Kingdom villages?"
Forcing up a smile that was aided by memories of better days, Katara said, surprised to see him, "I—It's to see you! I can't believe you're here!"
Behind her, Aang said something to Toph and Zuko. Haru, however, must have heard what was said because he replied, "Katara inspired me and my father to take back our village."
Where she probably should have blushed at his attention, Katara instead lowered her head and said nothing.
That was before.
But where she faltered, Zuko did not: "She helped an entire Fire Nation village from being poisoned."
When Haru didn't immediately reply, Katara glanced at Haru looking Zuko up and down. "You must be the infamous Prince Zuko." It wasn't an unfriendly tone, but there was nothing about it that was like the warm greeting Haru had just given her.
She saw Zuko stiffen, but he nodded, then thought better and bowed.
Haru inclined his head. "You must have done something right to be traveling with them."
"I—"
"He doesn't have to explain himself," Katara found herself shooting back. "We trust him. I trust him. That should be enough."
The hard look in Haru's eyes left. "Of course. It's good seeing you." Then with a swish of clothing, he left, passing Katara and the others and exiting the boat the same way they entered.
"See you at the meeting in a few minutes!" Sokka called, then, back to Katara: "What was that?"
"Sorry," she said softly. Had she become incapable of saying anything nice? Zuko was right. To all of them, she said, "I'm sorry for being like this lately. It's, well, it's been difficult since Hama, but when we talked just then," she gestured to their camp, "Zuko reminded me that I—we—couldn't afford to have me be like this during the fighting."
"I think we're all a little nervous for tomorrow," Aang remarked conciliatorily. "We don't know what it is like to, you know, control someone's body. I do know that it doesn't feel good to have my body controlled; I can imagine it doesn't feel good to control it."
Katara's stomach twisted itself in knots. "But," she said, glancing at Toph observing silently next to Sokka, "that's just it…"
Shrieking hinges and the brash sound of metal striking metal didn't allow her to finish her sentence, but by the lingering looks of the others, she didn't need to. Their attention as well as her own was swiftly drawn to the white smoke emerging from the metallic underwater thing sitting in the water off the ship's deck.
They peered at the thing below them. A balding man climbed out among the smoke, waving his arms to shoo it away. When it cleared, it was the familiar face of…of… Oh, what is his name?
"Shan!" Sokka greeted him.
"Sokka, my boy, how are you?" the older man answered, looking up at them. Not pausing for a response, he continued, "I have to say, it's been too long since we saw each other. You look like you've grown an entire handsbreadth!" He gestured to the metal thing as he paced the rather small, exposed patch of metal. "Obviously I got the plans you sent me. I did some tinkering with Teo and we got three working prototypes, each one working a little better than the last, as it always goes, you know. I think the Fire Nation will be quite surprised. Speaking of surprises, I got to working—"
"What is it?" Toph interrupted, leaning over the side.
"What, this?" He stomped his foot and produced a metallic thud. "This, my dear, is what we've taken to calling a submerger, or 'sub.' Its purpose is in the name: to submerge, as you've seen. Sokka—"
"No, I can't. Not really." The man smiled appreciatively and moved to continue but stopped when Toph waved her hand in front of her face.
"How much can you see, my dear?" he said. He had become quite still.
"I see more with my feet than my eyes."
"And you traveled with the others? Your friends?"
She nodded.
Brow knit together, he asked, "But you won't be fighting tomorrow, will you?"
"You better believe it. I've fought more fighters than any of them combined."
That might be stretching it, thought Katara.
Shan blinked then, after a beat, said, "You're an extraordinary young woman."
"Um. Thanks."
"Do you want to come down and feel it? Get an idea of what it looks like?"
"No, I—"
"Nonsense! All of you, come down here and take a closer look at this beauty." They obeyed, following Haru's exit, though he was long gone. They returned near where Katara had first spotted the machine.
With a quick movement, Katara froze the water between the dock and it, and they crossed over quickly before the ice began breaking up. Up close, it was quite impressive to know that it had been completed so quickly—and Sokka helped design it?
Shan pointed at the single opening in the otherwise flat exterior. "Did you want to go inside?" Both Aang and Sokka raised their hands, and though he didn't say anything, Zuko leaned over to peek inside. A shiver ran through him, and he looked around quickly, catching Katara's eye before taking a step away from the enclosed interior of the sub. Not noticing, Shan continued, "You can see my metal caterpillars down there too! We're just about finished with them. Wonderful little vehicles. It was a great idea to take a design from the Fire Nation and make it our own. Go inside! I do—"
"I don't think we have time," Katara said, glancing at Zuko. "The meeting and all that."
"Of course. Well, you'll get a tour tomorrow when we push off for the Fire Nation. Well, technically, we're already in the Fire Nation, but you would agree that it feels more…hostile…over there, but when you go back…" He continued on as they admired the handiwork of the metalworkers who crafted it. "I wish my son was here to see you all."
"What?" asked Katara.
Aang cocked his head. "Teo's not coming?"
"No," Shan said, uncharacteristically firm. "War is no place for children."
The statement sat for Aang to reply, but he didn't answer.
It was Zuko who retorted, "But war was brought to them and to their homes."
Sokka added, "You can't expect kids, or anyone, to just run and hide. Not when this is our best chance to stop Ozai."
"What good have the parents done to stop Ozai, anyway?" Toph said, crossing her arms.
Shan shook his head. "My whole life has been spent trying to protect—" His shoulders slumped a little, and he started again: "I remember feeling that way when I was your age, but—and I know this is the worst answer you could hear—you'll understand when you're older and have kids of your own."
Remembering her conversation with Dad not too long ago, she recalled him saying something similar: I don't want you to fight.
Since she was young, it had felt like adults had put up a barrier between themselves and "kids," and pointed at it as the reason why they did something. "You'll understand when you're older." It was the ultimate defense and one she could never defeat, no doubt by design.
And as she got older, that barrier remained, but it grew weaker. It could not be overcome; however, it seemed that it was not so much propped up by some league of adults conspiring together, but rather it was something that was not within reach for her, no matter how much she knew of the world. It was like knowing what firebending felt like as a waterbender; she could never know, and not because Zuko didn't want her to. However, unlike firebending, it was possible to know was Shan and Dad knew, but there was no timeline, no goal to meet to get it; one just suddenly knew. That's what set her teeth on edge.
Whether something similar to Katara's thinking swept through their small group or not, she didn't know, but they all had similar reactions, full of rolled eyes, crossed arms, and not-so-quiet huffs.
"I know, I know. I'll keep my nose out of it and get back to work." Then, a thought hitting him, Shan patted his legs like he lost something. He quickly found it and let out a victorious hoot. Fishing it out of his pants pocket, he held out a metal device, another one of his inventions, but it was unclear what it did. The device clicked and hummed, and Katara didn't know what to make of it or the small, carved stick next to scratches in the metal plate.
"This meeting of yours is starting soon anyway, isn't it?" Shan said, clearly knowing the answer to his question.
They looked over towards camp and saw men walking in the direction of the main open space farther inland that acted as a natural amphitheater. "Spirits, you're right!" said Sokka. "And Dad wanted me to be there early too!"
"Here, take this. I'm also giving one to your dad. When the point is here," he indicated a thicker tally mark on the metal plate, "that's when the eclipse will begin. And here," another tally, "it ends. The most important eight minutes of our lives." Katara saw Sokka was dying to know how it worked, but Shan's comment cast a heavy blanket on the conversation. But it was also Shan who quickly cast it aside: "Alright, alright, away with you! You have an important meeting to attend." He shooed them, and Katara made another ice bridge to get them across to the dock again. "I've got a few things to sort out, but then I'll head over."
Raising his chin a little, Sokka said, "I'm speaking at the beginning."
"Wonderful, my boy! Nervous?" Sokka gave a poor lie to which Shan accepted gracefully. "Then I'll be sure to be there on time. Good luck!"
-o-0-
Aang and the others—all but Sokka—took their seats at the front of the crowd that consisted of a mixture of Water Tribesmen, the clear majority; Earth Kingdom citizens; and a few Fire Nation colonists, though Aang had heard from Sokka that most had quickly taken to wearing Earth Kingdom clothing.
Aang glanced at Katara to his left. It was him, Zuko, and Toph, then finally Katara at the end. She had apologized earlier, but it appeared she didn't want to talk with anyone, judging by her choosing to sit next to Toph.
Thankfully, he was not alone in his concern and saw Zuko looking her way as well. "I thought you guys were getting along better now," Aang said to Zuko, causing him to start.
He shrugged a shoulder and said, "Me too. I think we are, but it's hit a, uh, rough patch. She'll come around soon, I hope. We talked about it."
"We talked about it too. I think it helped."
Zuko squinted his eyes, making him look angrier than he did a second ago.
"I don't know," Aang hurriedly added, not quite sure what he said wrong. "All I know is I want her to be safe."
"Me too," Zuko agreed, and they both turned back to Sokka and Hakoda standing to one side, getting ready.
-o-0-
It was awful, truly awful. If he ever thought the universe was against him, it was when all the maps, painstakingly put together the night before, fell into a heap during the beginning of his presentation and were blown away by a particularly strong gust of wind coming off the ocean. This, of course, was only after he tripped over himself twice, dropped several scrolls, and tried starting his introduction three times before Dad cut him off out of mercy and let him sit back down next to his friends. Dying on the spot would have been a blessing compared to the repeated images flooding Sokka's mind: the soldiers staring, Aang giving him the thumbs up as he messed up time and again—did he mention tripping over himself? Twice!
Spirits abound, that was a failure of the greatest kind. If he couldn't speak in front of a group of friends and allies, how could he hope to have their support when he needed it in battle?
Dad, of course, did it all so perfectly; it was impossible to be mad at him. "…two steps to the invasion: a naval stage, and then a land stage," he said, pointing to one of the few maps they'd been able to retrieve. "To gain sea access to the Fire Nation capital, we need to get past our first major obstacle here." He slid his finger to the entrance to the bay. "The Great Gates of Azulon. Next, we hit and we hit hard with our new metal vehicles. We must fight past their battlements and secure the plaza tower. Once we do that, it's up the volcano to the Royal Palace. At that point, the eclipse will begin.
"Before you ask, the eclipse only lasts eight minutes, so there's not enough time for the whole invasion. And the Royal Palace is heavily guarded by firebenders, so that's where we'll need the eclipse's advantage the most. When this is finished, the Avatar will have defeated the Fire Lord, we will have control of the Fire Nation capital, and this war will be over."
A few people cheered, but Dad's confidence couldn't cover up the overwhelming feeling of the sheer magnitude of what they were trying to do. We're really doing this. We're really going up against the Fire Nation.
And I can't even speak to a crowd of people.
"Now, those are the main parts of the plan…" Dad continued as Aang and the others beside him listened, enraptured. Sokka only half-listened; he'd heard the plan several times over and every variation seriously considered. "…I'll now go over in more detail what's required of all of us. Questions are welcome, but please wait until we get to the end of each major movement to ask them. Thank you. Starting in the naval stage, we'll leave here two hours before daybreak so make sure…"
Make sure to pack what you'll need tonight. Only take what's necessary. "Leave everything behind," Sokka whispered to himself.
"What?" Aang whispered, squinting a little in the late morning sun.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
The gathering broke twice to stand, stretch, and eat. Despite his friends' many prompts and encouragements to stay, Sokka let his father stay and take questions alone and then meet Earth Kingdom captains. As at the beginning of the meeting, Sokka knew he probably knew the answers to every last question, but who would care what his answer was?
The details surrounding what Aang would do to defeat Ozai were left hazy. Words like "kill" or "capture" weren't used. In place of them was "defeat" which sounded just as good to the soldiers' ears, Sokka knew. Dad didn't agree with Aang's way of doing things, but it was hard to argue with Aang's reasoning, and much harder to argue with the wishes of the Avatar.
The day ended early with Hakoda standing up once last time in the middle of the afternoon, congratulating the men, encouraging them, and expressing both his confidence in their ability to fight and win the following day. He always knows what to say. "Now, get something to eat, drink, and ready yourselves for tomorrow; we have a big day ahead of us!"
A loud cheer rang out in response from hundreds of soldiers. It was amazing to think that each one was willing to leave their homes, fight, and maybe die for the cause. Though he wasn't his father, Sokka nonetheless felt the weight of the soldiers' trust, and the added responsibility Dad had to take on as chief. The feeling reminded him of when he first realized the responsibility he had to Katara and the Tribe, to provide for them and protect them—with his life, if necessary. He had taken that job seriously and did as much as he could do at the time as a near-man, but somehow it hadn't prepared him as much as he wished.
No one spoke on the way back up to camp. They wound their way through the scattered tents, a familiar path since they'd taken it a few times, and started getting ready for bed, not that there was much to do.
Goodnights were said, but before they parted ways, Aang said, "It's going to be hard tomorrow, but I'm glad we're doing this. Together. I—I love you guys."
Katara said, her voice shaky, "We love you too, Aang."
Toph nodded once.
Zuko replied gruffly, "I'm glad, too."
Finally, Sokka, not able to think of much else to say, replied, "Me too."
A moment passed where no one moved. Maybe they were thinking, like him, that it may be their last night together. A shiver ran through Sokka, and he mumbled, "I'll see you in the morning," and retreated to his bed, eager to hide the tears that were forming.
-o-0-
The Fire Nation was here, in the camp. His surprise attack had failed. Pelt-covered tents were on fire, and chaos brought men, women, and children fleeing in all directions. There was nothing to do, nowhere to run, yet Hakoda did—straight towards where he felt danger lied. Amidst the chaos was an odd silence. There was noise, but it felt far away so as to be imagined. Bodies, men he knew, were on each side as he ran, as fresh as the day they died.
Where was she? Where was she? Hakoda ran, but his legs felt slow, sluggish and half-frozen. In the distance was his tent, and in an instant he was there at the entrance pulling back the hide. Please be here.
Kya, his beautiful Kya. She moved her mouth, and he could almost hear her call his name.
"Koda."
It was tight and scared and warning, a warning he realized too late.
The Fire Lord was outside his tent. A shock of fear went through him, but it was quickly replaced by hot anger and the thrill of possible revenge against…against… He whipped around just as she screamed. It was a sound that withered his soul, and he couldn't do anything but focus on what he already knew was there.
Blood. Blackened skin. A face erased from recognition other than it had been living flesh at one time.
Driven to his knees, he gasped for air as his body trembled and jerked.
"Dad?"
-o-0-
Hakoda opened his eyes, his daughter's voice in his ears. Had that been from the dream? "Hello?" he called out, wiping away tears: fresh, wet ones and ones that had dried and left behind grit and grains. Listening, he heard only the sounds of a camp: men too nervous to sleep walked about or tended fires as others slept, hoping to escape their thoughts or to speed time along before engaging in glorious battle.
No answer.
Getting up, he went out of his enclosed bedroom, into the main tent, and to the entrance. He pushed the flap aside and, in a gruff voice, asked, "How long until daybreak?"
"About two hours, Chief," replied another of his guard. He was… The name escaped him; it was too early, and he was still half-asleep.
"Thank you. Let Bato in when he arrives," he said, closing the entrance.
"Yes, Chief," came the muffled reply.
Hakoda didn't return immediately to his bedroom and instead leaned over the table in the center of the main room, the one that laid out his and the Fire Lord's forces. He could almost see the battle: the arrow of men pushing forward, wedging itself into the side of the Fire Nation before breaking apart in three, one left behind to hold the harbor and the remaining two to continue up the side of the old volcano. Losses would be great, perhaps too much.
But they were prepared. They had Shan to even the odds against them, and the eclipse would seal their victory. All that was required was timing: they had to be deep enough within the Capital for the eclipse to make a difference. The eclipse didn't matter if all the Fire Nation soldiers hid behind walls for eight minutes.
As for the Fire Lord… He sighed. He'd heard his son's and his friends' arguments for what to do with Ozai. Most importantly, he had heard from the Avatar. Their plan had too many variables: even if Ozai could be stopped, and if he could be incapacitated long enough to be moved, and if he was moved to someplace that could keep him locked away… Too many "ifs." The Avatar had done and could do amazing things, that was true enough, and maybe he could do something that would avoid killing Ozai, but believing that required too much faith from him.
Hakoda hung his head. "La and Tui," he whispered, "lend us your power and light. Aid us in restoring balance to a world you care too much to do nothing for." It never hurt to ask.
"Is he up?" Bato asked, his rough voice barely muted through the cloth tent.
"He's waiting for you."
Canvas was pulled aside. "Of course you are." He came up behind Hakoda and waited.
"Did you sleep?" Hakoda asked without turning around.
"Like a babe," his friend replied dryly. "Looking over the plan again?"
Hakoda let out a light sigh and turned around. "I don't suppose we received another five hundred men in the dead of night?"
"I believe the final count is 563 spirits in camp, Chief."
Two of those were his children—I can't focus on them, Hakoda warned himself. "I wish we had more."
If Bato sensed his worry, he didn't betray it. "But it's still possible."
"Yes," Hakoda agreed. After twisting around to look one last time at the table behind him, he started with an energy he didn't feel and walked out of the tent, Bato following. They walked the main road leading away from the Chief's House and passed tents on either side. "We should begin leaving," he said. "I'd rather wait to leave at daybreak than leave late." Some men were already awake in various states of undress, but none appeared to be in any hurry.
A woman's voice drew his attention for a moment. He asked, "How many fighting men?"
"The North sent twenty healers…and…your daughter makes—"
"542."
They walked on then turned toward the docks. Men stirred in their tents, some already getting the morning fires started. "Boy," Bato grabbed the collar of a passing young man, though not that much younger than themselves, "tell the captains and anyone you meet to get up and begin getting ready. Only take what you will need; we'll be back for your belongings when we win." It might have been an attempt at a smile, but it was closer to a grimace.
The young man nodded fervently and left once Bato released him, running like a wild dog let off its tether.
They continued walking and watched the ship masts get closer. "As much as I appreciate the North's contribution, twenty healers won't make much of a difference," grumbled Bato and, echoing Hakoda's earlier sentiments, said, "I'd rather have gotten a few more fighters from them."
"It was said they were all that could be spared. The North has their own people to take care of."
Shaking his head, Bato argued, "You and I both know this—"
Hakoda nodded once. "Yes. This is our last chance." Arriving at the docks, he stopped and Bato copied him a half-step later. "Everyone here knows this, and I'd rather have a hundred men fighting with me who know what they're fighting for than two hundred who don't." Bato's hard gaze softened a little, and he nodded. "The healers, as few as they are, will help keep our numbers up." As an afterthought, Hakoda added, "And if they're anything like my mother, I have a feeling they were going to help us with or without the Northern elders' approval."
A smile, rare since the start of the war, graced Bato's face. "Her blood runs in your veins. I seem to remember a certain boy wanted to hunt his own tigerseal when he was fourteen winters old and didn't take no for an answer. Earned the record, I believe."
Hakoda joined his smile. "Only to be beaten a month later by someone else."
"I couldn't let you have it for too long. People would think you were special."
They let out a few well-needed laughs and climbed up the gangplank to the ship. Hakoda needed to check in with the ship's captain and confirm its inventory. It should have been emptied of most everything the night before and either loaded onto the metal boats—subs, he remembered—or offloaded in camp. Presently, though, the deck had several wooden crates scattered across it, and it was hard to tell what was in each crate and which ones still needed to be moved, if any.
"I'll take care of this," offered Bato. He nodded towards the rise in the distance where the children slept. "Spend some time with them before we go."
"I've been away for a while, Bato. I think they can be without me for a few more hours." Bato's friend's silence was enough to glean his thoughts, and Hakoda added, "They will come to me when they're ready."
He pictured his son's look of horror as he succumbed to nerves the prior night, and tried to remember what it had been like when he was his age. Speaking had come easier, he decided. As for his son's ability to lead, that remained to be seen. There had been no plan to have him command any number of men, but there had been the hope that a well-thought-out explanation of the invasion he helped develop would garner respect and lay the groundwork of a promising future, leading possibly to chiefdom. But perhaps he will prove himself in other ways.
-o-0-
It wasn't long before the whole of the camp was up and bustling like snow dust swirling in the wind. Hakoda stood with Bato, a captain, and two messengers on a small platform that put them about a head above the men passing by, already fulfilling their orders. The idea was for the chief and captains to be easily seen in case there was an issue to be resolved, though Hakoda thought it looked like a stage and they were simply pretending to be in charge.
Kwan Lo, an older man with more than one line of gray hair through his beard and one of the senior captains from the Earth Kingdom, held his helmet under one arm. "I received reports of five deserters who disappeared in the night. We have to assume the Fire Nation will find out, but it's likely, given the distance of land between the two locations by foot, that we will maintain our element of surprise. This assumes their words only cross land." The unsaid worry was heard loud and clear: messenger hawks. "I can also send out a small band to track them down," he added.
"When do you think this band of traitors left?" Bato asked.
"At the most, five hours ago."
Hakoda and Bato shared a look. Hakoda said to Captain Lo, "We cannot afford to go after them. It'll take close to five hours for us to cross the bay and not a moment more." He looked at each of his captains. "We must prepare for them to be aware of our coming. As I said in the briefing last night, when we attack, the Fire Lord will be taken into a secure—what he thinks is a secure—room, regardless of his knowledge of an oncoming attack. Where he goes, the Avatar will follow."
Captain Lo bowed his head. "Yes, Chief. I'll resume getting the rest of my men together. They should be ready presently."
"Dad!" All three men turned toward where Sokka's voice rose above the commotion of soldiers rushing by as they went to and from the ships. He stood at the foot of the stage, looking up, eyes wide and waiting for orders.
Bowing slightly, Hakoda dismissed the captain then waved his son over with a small movement of his hand. "How are you, son? Ready?"
Sokka's eyes drifted downward, then snapped back up to Hakoda. "Oh, you mean today? I'm ready!"
"Look, Sokka. Yesterday was…" Again, Sokka couldn't seem to meet his father's eyes. "Yesterday wasn't perfect," he conceded, putting it mildly, "but I put it on you without much warning. That was my fault. I should have given you more time to prepare."
"I knew everything about the invasion and which groups go where and who all the captains are. I knew all the answers to the questions they had, but I just…I couldn't get it out. I wanted to make you proud, Dad, but I think I did the opposite."
Memories, ones from what felt like a lifetime ago, came to mind. To Bato, he said, "I'll be back," then stepped off from the platform and guided his son through the crowd. "I remember feeling like that, and it's not something you can always outgrow. Speaking to groups might not be your skill; most men aren't skilled like that. Maybe your skill is strategy; no one can deny your contributions in that respect." In the stream of people, they reached an eddy and stopped. Looking Sokka straight in the eye, Hakoda said, "But I want to tell you that nothing you did out there changed how much I respect you as my son and as a man. I know you want to make me proud." He grasped his son's shoulders. "Every day that you're with your sister and your friends, protecting them, protecting the Avatar, you make me proud."
An idea, a hope that was easier to believe in, bloomed in his mind. "I want you to promise me something."
Sokka's eyes lit up. "Anything."
"When we go out there today, I want you to stick close to the Avatar. Protect him. I don't know how everything will turn out with him and Ozai, but if he—the Avatar—is losing and there's an opportunity to finish the Fire Lord, I want you to take it."
Sokka opened his mouth, but Hakoda spoke first: "I'm not saying throw away your plan to capture Ozai, but if things start turning against us, we must do what we can." Lowering his voice, he said, "Not all the men here will make it. I might not make it. And I don't want anyone here to die in vain if we had the opportunity stop Ozai's reign and didn't do anything, do you?"
Shaking his head, Sokka answered quietly, "No… I'll—I'll do it. I'll protect Aang."
Hakoda reached over and gripped the back of his son's head and pressed their heads together. "Thank you. Your help me rest easy."
"Thank you," answered Sokka. They parted, and he clarified, "For letting me do this for you, I mean."
After nodding once, he managed to change the subject and ask, "Where is your sister and the others?"
"They'll be down here soon. Doesn't matter if there's an invasion or not, they had to have breakfast." He rolled his eyes playfully.
"You should eat something if you haven't," Hakoda pointed out. "We're heading out soon, and it'll be a while before the invasion begins."
He shrugged. "That's okay. Not that hungry."
"Chief." Bato came up beside the two of them. Behind him was another captain on the stage, looking impatient. "A problem about rations."
"He wants to talk about this now?"
Bato nodded.
Wait a day: either the Capital will be taken and we'll have food for everyone, or we'll be defeated and have more rations than men. But Hakoda nodded back. "I'll meet you there in a minute." With that, Bato left, wading through the mess of men, and back to the command post some twenty or so paces away.
Turning back to his son, Hakoda gave his best smile, one he hoped wasn't a grimace like Bato's, and said, "Get your sister and your friends. We're leaving soon. Meet me by the mechanist's machine—"
"Submerger."
"That. Not the one he showed you, but the one with the deck on it. I'll be aboard that one. I'd be honored to have you alongside me, Sokka."
Spirits. There was very little of the boy left, but it was smiles like the one Sokka gave him that showed how much was still there.
How much will be left when this is over?