Chapter Text
Prologue
First Lieutenant Ro stood at the rail and looked towards the beach. The distant trees were swaying in the light breeze, like sentries overseeing the furious activity on the shore. Behind him, the anxious crew were washing the blood off the deck.
Seven men dead, victims of Admiral Zhao’s displeasure. His anger had been…explosive, and heads had literally rolled. Ro was extremely glad his had not been one of them.
He took a few fortifying breaths. His wasn’t one of them for now.
Taiju’s treachery had been a shock, a frighting one, with what he knew, but thankfully the depth of Zhao’s anger had meant he would not be telling any tales. Even so, Zuko and the Water Rat’s escape had put them all in a great deal of danger. Zhao had sent soldiers ashore as soon as he had realised what had happened. Ro could see the small shapes of the soldiers on the sand, preparing to move inland. The boys might have drowned of course, but Ro didn’t think so. Zuko was a remarkably resilient brat. He would make it out of spite if nothing else.
And then he would want payback. They had been stupid to think him cowed, Zhao had been arrogant and overconfident. He should have taken what he wanted from the little bastard and killed him before they ever got this close to land. He had gambled, and they all stood to lose.
As he watched, another boat launched with more men heading for the beaches. They had a lot of people at their disposal, although they couldn’t utilise the fleet for obvious reasons. The other captains had gone on ahead to their rendezvous, while Zhao undertook his ‘secret’ mission.
Ro had confidence in the soldiers, the men were skilled, they would work their way inland, seek sources of freshwater and no doubt pick up the trail. The boys were injured, weak and on unfamiliar ground.
They would be captured, eventually.
Ro was not the sort of man who thought much about his own shortcomings, or his mistakes; he preferred to think of them as other people’s mistakes, as they usually were. But the memory of his final act of revenge was soured by worry. He still relished it. That feeling of power was not one that could be replicated, and was unlikely to come again. The Fire Lord’s own son, Ozai’s blood, that had been a heady experience. It had always been a risk, but Zuko’s fear and shame and his inexplicable attachment to the Water Tribe whelp would have made him easy to manipulate, right until the point he had to die. It had been worth the risk and had been a moment to remember, but now it was also a serious cause for concern. If they failed to capture Zuko, then the whole crew was for the gibbet. But if they did capture him, then Ro’s neck was on the line. No way Zuko would pass up the opportunity to tell Zhao what Ro had done, his final act of revenge before his death. Zhao might not believe him, but then again, he might.
And then Ro would be the one to lose his head.
There was only one way forward. Ro was going to have to find him first, and he was going to have to ensure he would not be telling any tales. A sword in the gut was too quick of a death for him. But it would have to do.
That way, Ro would save his skin and be a hero to the crew. Win-win, the best odds. He would go ashore with the next boat, and he would find them. He was banking on it taking a day or so to locate them, long enough that Zhao was forced to return to the ship, and Ro could take over. Zhao would jump at the chance of having someone he trusted, who knew just how important it was, to take charge of the chase. Then it would just be a case of ‘accidentally’ killing Zuko before he could be taken back to the admiral. Perhaps, if the circumstances were right, they could recreate their last morning on the boat. But if not, there was always the Water Rat for sport. He would make him watch his friend die first, then maybe he would break a leg, to discourage any other attempts at escape. And he was fairly sure the boy owed him an eye after all this hassle.
He watched the tree line as it grew closer. The sun was rising, and he could feel it filling his veins with fire and strength.
Chapter 1
Azula, Crown Princess and heir to the throne, smiled. Finding her uncle had proved to be shockingly easy. The man had come to her.
He looked surprised to see her, not scared, which was foolish of him, but definitely surprised. To be fair, she had been a little surprised, too. She was not expecting the person holding Mai’s brother to be the very man she was seeking, but she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Uncle,” she said pleasantly, “Welcome to New Ozai.” She thought naming the city after her father had been a nice touch.
Away from the stifling fear of the palace, she felt better, less conflicted. Although she was still very aware of her precarious situation and the fact she was far from being out of the woods yet.
Killing or capturing Iroh would be a good start, though.
“Uncle?” the Water Tribe girl questioned, looking between them cautiously. The boy in the silly hat was staring at her in open curiosity. What an odd collection of people Iroh had ended up with.
“Princess Azula. You’ve grown!” Iroh said, matching her tone. She wasn’t fooled any more than he was. They both knew where this was going. He handed the baby he was holding to the girl, who took the child almost automatically, then scowled at him, understandably put out about being lumbered by a squirming infant. The baby, unconcerned, reached out a chubby hand and pulled at one of her dangling hair loops, a cheerful smile on his fat little face.
“I believe you have something that belongs to my friend here.” Azula gestured towards Mai. She kept her posture relaxed and her voice light.
“Not until you give us Bumi!” the boy demanded, stepping forward. Iroh glanced at him and then nodded.
Azula narrowed her eyes at them. There was something off about the body language of the strange little group. Iroh should be the leader, in age, power and status, but he was deferring to the kid.
“Deals off,” she said. She needed more information, and angering them was one way to get it.
The Water Tribe girl fell into a fighting stance, one arm raised, the other still cradling the baby. That should hamper her bending efforts significantly. The boy scowled at her and thumped his stick down in front of him, it was almost like a challenge, rather than a threat. Azula eyed it, it wasn’t a stick, it was some sort of furled contraption. She realised what it was a second later, a glider, something that hadn’t been seen outside of a museum in almost a century. Her intel had suggested that the Avatar had been travelling with a pair of Water Tribe kids and that the girl was a bender.
Looking at the peculiar little group, Azula was certain her hunch was correct. Well, this was a bit of good luck. It was going to be tricky though. Iroh was no pushover, even if he was old and lazy. She dismissed the girl for the time being, Ty Lee or Mai could handle her. The Avatar could prove a challenge, but by all accounts he was only half trained, so there was a strong possibility she could take him.
Capturing the Avatar would certainly trump getting rid of Iroh.
But perhaps there was a way to do both, if she tipped balance a little. She schooled her face carefully, relaxing her aggressive stance. “Uncle, I’m sure you know you have been declared a traitor,” she said solemnly.
Iroh nodded at her. “I suspected as much. You have orders to detain me?”
Or kill him, but he didn’t need to know that. “I do. And I intend to. It’s not my choice, you understand.” She kept her tone a little low, regretful.
He nodded again, still cautious. So not a complete moron then.
Azula took a couple of deep, visible breaths and looked at her feet for a moment. Nothing too emotional, but just enough to show her discomfort. “It brings me no pleasure to lose another member of my family.” She raised her eyes to watch his reaction. He was tense, worried.
He didn’t know.
But her words and tone had certainly clued him in to the possibility that he wouldn’t like what she had to say. He looked almost afraid to ask her to elaborate. Good. “Uncle, I have every intention to take you prisoner, it’s my duty. But before we are forced to do such unsavoury things...I assume you haven’t heard the news?”
“What news?” There was fear on his face, he wasn’t even hiding it. He didn’t know Zuko’s fate, but he suspected, had probably lain awake at night looking at the stars and fretting. What a pathetic waste of energy and time, worrying about someone else, when he should have been concerned over his own situation.
“About my brother.” She took another artfully measured breath. Just enough to show she was feeling a strong emotion, no need to overplay it.
“What news, Azula?” he pressed, his voice insistent, tense with feeling and dread. She felt it strung between them like a bowstring, waiting for her next words to fire the arrow.
“He was found guilty of treason, three weeks ago.”
“On what charges?” The boy, the Avatar said, ruining her moment slightly. Or perhaps not, he looked upset. Very strange. Perhaps Zuzu had been a traitor rather than just an idiot. Iroh certainly was, considering the company.
“High treason,” Azula addressed Iroh rather than the kid, making the appearance of dismissing him as unimportant. “I’m sure you have heard of the Blue Spirit, uncle? Well, it seems Zuko had been moonlighting in vigilantism. Apparently he freed the Avatar when he was being held at Pohuai Stronghold.” She looked at Iroh earnestly. “It’s shocking, I know. But proven beyond a doubt by eyewitnesses.” Like the bastard Zhao, who she still owed a reckoning for daring to spill royal blood.
The Avatar went a little pale. So, she had been correct, maybe it wasn’t just Iroh she could knock off balance.
The Water Tribe girl turned her head to look at the Avatar. “Seriously? Zuko?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. Her hair swung at the motion and Tom Tom grabbed at it again and tugged it happily, but she seemed too caught up in the shock of that revelation to do more than wince.
Interesting, the Avatar had known who his saviour was, but the rest of his companions had not.
“Where is he?” the Avatar demanded. Stepping further forward, as threatening as a little boy in a silly hat could be. “Uncle, we can’t wait. We have to find the ship.”
Uncle? She resisted raising the eyebrow that wanted to climb into her hairline. Very familiar thing to call a royal firebender. There was an awful lot to puzzle out here.
Iroh had pure fear in his eyes now. It always confused and confounded her how Zuko managed to inspire such love in some people, and such disastrous hate in others. It both intrigued and annoyed her.
It was a moot point now, though.
She made an effort to keep the spite from her voice, the victory from her body language, but it was hard. “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that,” she said, watching her words crash down on Iroh, the fear turning to desperate heartbreak on his face.
“What do you mean?” The Avatar asked. She could see from Iroh’s expression he already knew what her answer would be. Her father did not permit traitors to live.
“He was executed. As soon as Zhao received his sentence. They didn’t even bother to bring him home.” She let a little of her genuine anger bleed into her voice.
“You’re lying!” the girl said. She looked shocked too, not sad, but upset. What had Zuzu been up to during his banishment?
“I’m not,” Azula snapped, just enough to appear hurt by the accusation. She took a slow breath and turned her face away slightly, keeping half an eye on her uncle’s reaction. “I wouldn’t lie about this, he’s...he was my brother. I was there when father received the news.”
Sometimes, at night when she lay awake, with the fear in her veins, she could still smell the stink of burnt hair.
She took what she needed from the memory and shook the rest away. “Zhao sent his hair as proof. Father burnt it.” She looked Iroh in the eye. “It’s done, uncle.”
He believed her. His face creased and crumpled with such raw grief it hit her funny. Not out of pity, but out of something else. He probably looked like that when his son died. Now, at the news of Zuko’s death.
He wouldn’t look like that if she died. No one would.
Azula didn’t know why that made her so angry. Her brother’s death, and her father’s distance had thrown all her emotions out of order. It infuriated her, which now she thought about it, was probably a symptom of the disease; sentiment, a weak and pointless emotion.
There was no time for it now, though. He was nearly ready. “I’m sorry, uncle,” she said.
The Water Tribe girl reached out a hand to Iroh, but her eyes were on the Avatar. His little face was full of pain and guilt. Azula centred herself, breathed, and prepared to call her lightning.
Iroh’s eyes shot up to meet hers as the first spark of power surged through her.
“Move!” He shouted, but he had a lot less time to dodge than he thought. In mere seconds she had the lightning at her fingertips, and she sent the blast directly at him. As the power flowed through and out of her, she was vaguely aware of the Water Tribe girl lunging to the side, protecting the child, and the Avatar moving his staff, flipping it open.
Then the lightning hit.
Iroh... caught it. The electricity standing his hair on end as it flowed around his body. She had a moment of true fear, her own death a momentary certainty, before he raised two fingers and released the blast away from them, the crackle and bang of it streaking over the city and lighting the scaffold in wild white and blue.
How had he done that? She had never heard of such a thing.
Her advantage was lost, curse him. But there was no time to dwell on it. He looked a little shaken, hair still sticking up at funny angles. Perhaps Ty Lee would get a lucky hit in, and they could subdue him without her. Her goal now was the Avatar. His eyes widened as he felt her attention shift to him, and she didn’t give him any more time to recover before she attacked.
Instead of fighting her, the Avatar ran, or more accurately, flew. Right up towards where they had mad King Bumi stashed. Azula was not having a rescue on top of her failure to take out Iroh, and she pursued, using the pulleys on the scaffolding to propel her up to his level. The thrill of it sending bright hot feelings spinning through her, like fire. This felt so simple, so easy. No confusion, no doubts.
Azula tucked an errant hair back into place. The boy had escaped. They had all escaped. And although Bumi had inexplicably returned himself to captivity, the day was still lost.
That said, it wasn’t a complete disaster. Every engagement with the enemy taught you things, gave you valuable information to be used later. Fighting an airbender had been much more demanding than she had anticipated—not least because he didn’t really stand and fight at all, not in the way a firebender would. He was evasive, and his technique was mostly defensive, which presented unexpected challenges. He was also able to move in a way she could not, launching himself into the air, using the scaffold and the high ground with ease. She would have to come up with a way to counteract that.
The thought was exciting, engaging. She hadn’t felt so alive in forever.
The other benefit to today’s failure was that she now knew they were traveling together. Much easier to track the Avatar and his flying cow than it was to dig out an old man hiding amongst the Earth Kingdom citizens. Furthermore, with her targets travailing together, she would not have to divide her attention.
She held back the smile that wanted to spread across her face, hid the exhilaration that was flowing under her skin. This was her opportunity, her chance to win back her father’s favour.
She intended to grab it with both hands.
……………..
“Son of a hog-monkey’s whore!” Sokka yelped, as he once again stepped on a prickly protrusion from the forest floor. His feet were not made for walking over all this crap, it hurt! And worse, slowed them down, something they could not afford.
It also seemed that a month's exposure to the rough side of Zuko’s tongue had lowered the tone of his vocabulary. Or perhaps it had expanded it, but in a way his father probably wouldn’t approve of. He was going to have to get a rein on the cussing if he ever managed to meet up with Katara and Aang. If being the operative word. He stumbled over some other spiky bastard of a stick laying in wait in the scrub and cussed again.
They had been walking for the best part of a day through the forest, and their pace was getting slower and slower, although the fear of pursuit was increasing with every second that slipped by. Their feet were used to shoes and not used to being walked on after a month in captivity, but that was only part of the problem. Exhaustion and injuries were the more pressing concerns.
Their first bit of good luck since hitting the beach appeared from the sky, fat, early spring raindrops began hitting the canopy with a familiar and welcome sound. Sokka never thought he would have missed being rained on, but the sensation was a welcome one. He stood with his head tipped back for a moment while the water hit his face, cool and fresh.
“Can’t drink it like this,” Zuko said, from just up ahead, frustration and longing clear in his voice. Sokka shared the sentiment. They should have brought one of their tin cups, although they probably would have lost it during the swim. Zuko had also tilted his face up to the canopy, letting the rain wash away some of the grime and sweat. His shirt was darkening from the water, and the sight of it gave Sokka an idea.
He untied the strips of his destroyed clothing from his belt and handed half of them to Zuko, who looked at them in confusion. “We can collect it using these,” Sokka told him, and demonstrated by running one of his scraps through the wet, low hanging leaves of a big bush. The cloth soaked up the water, and he lifted it to his mouth, then spat.“Ugh salty,” he said in disgust. He should have thought of that, seeing it has been soaked in sea water. He wrung it out and tried again, wrung it out a second time. The third attempt gave him a few mouthfuls of drinkable water, not enough to quench his thirst, but if they kept it up it might be enough to stop them just dropping dead of dehydration.
Zuko nodded. “Let’s drink as we go,” he said. The guy was like a force of nature, no stupid twigs or a bit of pesky starvation was going to stop him and his insistence that they just kept moving.
An hour or so later, Sokka found some berries, they were small and purple, and he recognised them from his earlier travels through the Earth Kingdom, so he didn’t have to worry about an accidental poisoning. A case of the shits would just be adding insult to injury at this point, and also probably kill them.
The berries were a little off season, turning overly sweet and mushy, but they offered a small amount of precious energy and a little extra fluid. Now the rain had stopped, the thirst was back in full force.
“Here, Zuko, take some,” he said.
Zuko paused to eye the handful of squished fruit in Sokka’s hand. “I’m fine, you eat them.”
“You are not fine, we’ll eat half each,” Sokka insisted.
“I’m fine, not hungry. Let’s keep moving.”
Sokka rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could, even though Zuko wasn’t actually watching. He had already started walking again. His refusal was worrying, it wasn’t due to the fruit's mushed and unappealing state; they had eaten pickles that had literally been stuck to Zuko’s chest and enjoyed them, it didn’t get much more desperate than that.
If he genuinely wasn’t hungry, or if he was nauseous, that was something that would need to be dealt with.
“Hold up, Sunshine.”
Predictably, Zuko turned round to snarl at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll call you whatever I like. And it’s funny, because you are the least sunny person I have ever met.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are, Water Tribe.”
Oh, fighting words. “Wrong, I am a comedic genius. You just have an underdeveloped sense of humour. And if you don’t come eat these berries, I will be forced to regale you with humorous anecdotes.” Sokka smiled threateningly. “Perhaps I could turn them into verse, a joke that’s sung is probably twice as funny as one that’s just spoken.”
Zuko looked suitably, and a little insultingly, concerned. “Please don’t, haven’t we suffered enough?” he said, plaintively.
Sokka barked a laugh. “I take it back, you can carry a joke.” Then he sobered a little. “Please eat a few? I promise they’re safe. And you need the energy as much as I do, even if you’re feeling ill.”
“Not sick, just not hungry.”
“Zuko, we have been nothing but ravenous for over a month. You not being hungry is not normal.”
Zuko actually paused long enough for Sokka to catch up and get a good look at him. He was in a state, worse than when they had left the beach, if that was possible. Pale and a little shaky. It could be exhaustion, Sokka hoped it was, but he had a horrible feeling he was getting sick. “Please, Zuko,” he said.
Zuko chewed his split lip for a moment, “Okay, if it will make you shut up.” He took the berries and forced them down, although he looked like he was struggling not to bring them up again. “Let’s go.” he said. Sokka was starting to hate those words.
They walked. As the day wore on, it became increasingly obvious that Zuko was struggling.
It was frightening. Zuko’s tenacity, his strength, both physical and mental, was something Sokka had grown used to relying on. He would just keep going no matter what the universe threw at him. That hadn’t changed, not really, but there was only so much a body could take, even if the mind moving it was nothing but pure stubbornness. He was flushed and sweating precious water, and his path through the woods had started to become a little wonky. He was weaving and lurching as he walked, and had to catch himself on trees as they passed, either to prevent himself falling over, or more worryingly, to stop himself from just walking right into them.
Sokka was staggering along behind him, cursing every plant that had ever dropped its twigs to the floor for unsuspecting travellers to walk on, but he was keeping more of an eye on Zuko than he was where he was putting his feet. There didn’t seem to be anything he could actually do to help, but he was going to have to do something. He considered his options on how to take more decisive action as he watched his friend wobbling ahead of him, muttering and snarling at the foliage as he tripped and stumbled forward on scratched and battered feet.
Staring intently at Zuko as he flailed along in front of him, Sokka noticed the sweat on his legs was becoming discoloured, at first he thought the red dye from the shirt was running.
Then he realised it wasn’t.
He had not actually let himself consider the more intimate injuries Zuko might have, and he should have done. It was a stupid thing not to think about, and also something Zuko would never, ever mention. All of this walking must be excruciating for him, and who knew what sort of damage he was doing to himself by ignoring it? But of course he was still bloody going. It was like he was trying to outrun it. Perhaps, in a way, he was.
Right, enough of this. “Ow!” Sokka said loudly. “Zuko, stop a moment, I think I’ve twisted my ankle.” He hobbled a little to prove his point and painted the most pained expression he could on his face. It wasn’t exactly hard, his whole body hurt, and the burns on his arms were throbbing worryingly.
“Lemme see,” Zuko demanded, a slight slur in his words. He knelt, more of a controlled collapse than the smooth, graceful movements he usually used. He held out a hand imperiously.
Sokka limped over and then dropped to his arse in the dirt, proffering one sore foot for Zuko to poke. Zuko took hold of his ankle and began prodding the skin while Sokka made appropriately upset sounds. He didn’t have to fake it, he was glad his ankle was not actually sprained, because Zuko’s ministrations were as always, as gentle as a mule’s kick to the face.
He rotated Sokka’s ankle critically. “It’s not broken,” he said. He continued to hold the joint, hot fingers clutching it a little too hard. He looked bemused, like he had forgotten why it was in his hands.
“Can we stop? At least for a bit?” Sokka asked hopefully.
The moment of apparent confusion passed, and Zuko’s face cleared, reforming into an annoyed frown. “No.”
Well, that was to be expected. “Zuko, we have to rest. If I keep going, I’m not going to make it.” That probably wasn’t even a lie. He did need to rest occasionally, even if the idea seemed beyond Zuko’s comprehension.
Zuko scowled down at the offending foot like he might be able to threaten it into fixing itself. His fingers tightened even more on the delicate bones, making Sokka wince. “We should continue until it gets dark, then make camp,” he decided finally. “We can rest a bit then move at first light.”
That was probably the best concession he was going to get. Sokka calculated that it was about another hour of walking. Doable for him, and hopefully for Zuko too. The only other option was to try to sit on him to make him take a break, and that was likely to result in broken bones (Sokka’s). “Okay, help me up,” he said reluctantly. He was quite enjoying sitting, and now he was not only going to have to do more walking, he was going to have to pretend to limp for an hour. It would be worth it though, if he made Zuko stop long enough for his body to have a break.
Then he was going to have to think about what to do about the other thing. A few hours of rest wouldn’t stop the bleeding, and Zuko’s other injuries needed to be disinfected too. He wished again he had more knowledge of the Earth Kingdom’s plants, something that could draw the infection out of wounds, or even something safe to make a poultice out of.
Zuko heaved himself to his feet, wobbled a bit, and then reached out a hand for Sokka. He tugged him upright, and Sokka grabbed his shoulder to steady himself. He was radiating heat, and not in a firebender kind of way.
Zuko was looking at him with a critical eye, weighing up his ability to keep up, no doubt. “Lean on me,” he said finally. “Keep some of the weight off it.”
This sounded easy, but Zuko set off at the same determined but disordered pace he had been using before, causing the pair of them to lurch through the under-bush like a couple of drunks. It probably would have been hilarious to watch if it hadn’t been so fucking sad.
They finally stopped in a clearing beneath a big tree. They didn’t so much as sit, as flop into a jumbled heap of limbs, too exhausted to even bother to untangle themselves. Sokka thought even Zuko might have reached his limit, his had been reached about three hours ago.
“Sleep here?” he asked, barely able to get his words out.
Zuko grunted in what Sokka assumed was acknowledgement. The sound vibrated through Sokka’s cheek, where it was resting on Zuko’s chest. Spirits, but he was hot. It wasn’t just from exertion; he was definitely running a fever.
“You doing okay?” he asked. He wasn’t expecting a sensible answer, and he didn’t get one.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? Because I think you would say ‘yeah’ even if you had lost a leg to gangrene and your hair was on fire.”
Zuko blinked up at the canopy. “Been on fire, don’t recommend,” he slurred.
Sokka heaved himself up on his elbows so he could look at him properly. Zuko’s eyes were a little unfocused and his face was flushed. Sokka pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re feverish,” he said, although he already knew that. A new spike of fear was working its way up through his guts.
He was so sick of being afraid. He just wanted a moment’s peace, was that too much to ask?
“Not,” Zuko insisted, closing his eyes. “Just tired.”
Well, that was bullshit, but there was nothing much more Sokka could do with their limited resources and his own exhaustion and thirst clouding his mind. “Sleep for a bit then,” he said. The worry had settled low in his stomach, on top of all the other fear and anxiety. He had to think logically and practically. There was no point wishing for things they didn’t have.
Tomorrow, he would look for a proper source of water, and see if he could find anything recognisable to treat Zuko’s fever. It was probably an infection, exacerbated by everything his body had gone through in the past month. Not to mention the battering his emotional well-being had taken, although Sokka suspected it hadn’t been in a particularly healthy state before then either.
It was unclear how long it would take him to find fresh, drinkable water, so Sokka hauled his tired aching body up again, and lay his bits of cloth over some low-hanging branches, hoping to catch the morning dew.
When he was done, Zuko was already asleep, curled into an awkward-looking ball and shivering slightly. Unsure how to help, Sokka pulled him in close, at once terrified by the heat rolling off him like a furnace, and also ridiculously grateful for it in the chill air.
Hopefully, it would be better in the morning.
In the morning, it was worse.
Sokka actually woke first, and the sun was already high. This was bad. They had lost precious time, and his dew traps were practically dry. He had to shake Zuko awake. He was sweating and shivering and his unburned cheek was pink. There was no way they were going to be able to keep moving. Zuko was losing fluid too fast and the need for water had just accelerated dramatically.
Zuko sat up, looking bleary and confused. He rubbed his scarred eye like a little kid and blinked up at Sokka as he stood. Sokka marshalled his arguments and set himself steady in the dirt, digging his toes in and ready to verbally fight to the death. “Zuko, I’m going to scout the area a bit, find us something to eat and drink before we head out, okay?” he said, starting nice and simple. He would work his way up to threats and begging.
Instead of fighting, Zuko nodded, still scrubbing at his face.
The lack of argument was the most worrying thing he had done yet, and it filled Sokka with a steady trickle of quickly growing panic.
Sokka didn’t want to go too far, but he knew he might have to. He had left Zuko dozing under the big tree, safe for now, but leaving him undefended in that state was a source of intense anxiety. The only thing he could do was be as quick as he possibly could. He avoided the low hanging thick under-bush that was made up of some dense, prickly trees with deep green leaves, and stuck to the game trails he found. They were less hard on his feet, which gave him a little speed, and he hoped they would ultimately lead to a water source.
Along the side of the track, he found some tart looking, pale berries he didn’t recognise. He picked one and squashed it between his fingers. It smelled sweet and tangy, and his mouth watered. But he wasn’t an idiot, no matter how hungry he was. He rubbed a little of the juice on the inside of his elbow and took a note of where they were. If there was no reaction, he would pick them on his way back.
The trail wound on, heading slowly downward while the vegetation got thicker and more difficult to navigate. After ten or so minutes, with no burning or discomfort on his arm, he put a little of the fruit pulp still on his fingers to his lips and tasted a bit on his tongue. It was sharp, with a hint of the promised sweetness. He figured if his lips didn’t swell or itch by the time he headed back, he could stuff his purse full of them, and hopefully that would give them the boost they needed to move on again. He wiped the remaining juice on his pants and walked on, listening carefully for the sound of running water.
He paused when he thought he could hear a distant sound. It could be a stream or river beating against the rocks, and his heart swelled with hope. He pushed forward, pausing every now and again to orientate himself.
He was so intent on following the noise, he almost missed the other sound. The rustle of leaves that indicated something large moving through the foliage. He stopped and had a wild vision of some delicious animal he could eat. But unless he was going to try to tackle it with nothing but his hands, there was no point getting excited. After water, weapons were going to be next on his list. He thought he might be able to fashion a crude sling, and certainly a spear, if he found the right kind of stone to create a point.
The noise came again, and he paused, his tired and foggy brain finally letting go of its frenzied thoughts about food and returning to earth with a bump. That wasn’t the sound of something passing by. The way it stopped when he did? That was something stalking him.
Adrenaline started pumping, and he stopped, looking intently at the general direction the rustling was coming from.
Suddenly, in the distance, there came the faint sound of shouting. Back from the direction of the camp, where he had left Zuko sick and defenceless. Horror rushed through him, and the awful reality of what was happening hit him the same moment as the Fire Nation soldier lunged out of the dense bushes.
Those few hours of extra sleep had caught up with them. Zhao’s men, healthy and well fed and with shoes, had traveled through the night.
“Stop!” the soldier shouted, his sword drawn.
Fear rushed over Sokka like a wave and he flung himself to the side, rolled, regained his feet and then he ran.