Iroh had never been an early riser.

Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was never a fast riser. He did wake up early, rising with the sun just like many on the ship, but unlike his more energetic nephew, it took Iroh much longer to prepare. He wasn't vain about his looks; he chuckled to himself, knowing that even if he was, he would have long since lost that battle. But he enjoyed taking his time. A warm bath to loosen his old joints, a warm cup of Ginseng tea to ease his breathing; just like how the morning air took time to warm under the rising sun, Iroh took time to get ready for the day, much unlike some of the younger members of the crew.

In fact, his nephew was often one of, if not the first one awake and working on the ship. It made Iroh proud in some ways, to see how Zuko had grown over the past few years. He still had plenty to learn, and Iroh often worried about how angry and conflicted his nephew was, but over their travels the young man had become more and more involved in running and maintaining the ship, going from just a prince to a true captain. He would awake early in the morning, just before dawn, and begin plotting their course for the day, do an inspection of the ship and the crew, and review their supplies, all before breakfast. He had become truly studious, working day in and day out.

But that only made the old general frown, concern in his eyes. The pale autumn sun hung in the cloudless blue sky, continuing to rise as the crew went about their morning tasks. Iroh sat on the deck, a half-full bowl of lukewarm rice porridge in one hand, and a Pai Sho tile in the other. Years ago, an Earth Kingdom merchant had taught him a game one could play on their own, using nothing more than a set of Pai Sho tiles and a bit of spare time. He made a ritual of playing it in the early hours of the day, while he watched the young prince practice and hone his bending, but the prince was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, General," A young man, only a few years older than his nephew, paused in front of where Iroh sat and smiled nervously. "Do you know where Prince Zuko is?"

"Come, join me while you wait." Iroh smiled kindly at the young soldier, and gestured towards the pillow on the other side of the table. "I am not sure, however, I believe he will awake soon. It is not like my nephew to sleep so late."

The man smiled graciously, and joined Iroh at the low table. "That's definitely true. He's a workaholic, if I've ever seen one."

Iroh chuckled, and nodded. "That is most certainly the case. But I believe it is his way of showing that he appreciates the crew's hard work."

"Well that's good!" The soldier gave the general a goofy smile. "If he didn't, then I would've wasted six years mopping the deck!"

The two men both laughed, but a bit of sadness tinged Iroh's voice. Ultimately, The young soldier was correct on that; Hachiro had been sixteen when he was assigned to the prince's voyage, fresh out of basic training, but even he had known that the ship wasn't supposed to come back. And now, he spent his mornings training with Iroh's nephew, as if trying to make up for the friends he never got the chance to meet while at sea.

Hachiro settled down, and watched the old man play his game in comfortable silence. A few minutes passed, and Iroh set down his now empty bowl. A tile clicked on the wooden table, and the calming sounds of the wind blowing and waves breaking against the ship were only occasionally interrupted by crewmen chatting or grunting as they did their daily chores. The men had plenty to grumble about, of course; It had been a few weeks since they had drawn into port, and some supplies were starting to run low, in particular the various alcohols that were now on a strict ration. Iroh smiled and shook his head. His nephew would be hard-pressed to make his crew stay at sea any longer if their supply of drinks ran out.

"Ah, there he is." Hachiro waved at the young prince, and Iroh looked up from his game to see him. "Morning, sunshine."

Zuko scowled, and joined them at the table. "Treat your superiors with respect." Hachiro gave the young prince an apologetic smile, and scooted over, giving the prince his space.

"Good morning, Nephew." Iroh gave a welcoming grin, and put his tiles on the table. "Have you eaten breakfast this morning?"

"No, and I don't need it." Zuko's voice was completely deadpan as he looked out across the bow of the ship, his eyes watching the mountainous coast with cold focus. "I just need to train."

"Ah, but a young man such as yourself needs a full belly just as much as he needs training!" Iroh laughed heartily, but Zuko didn't even glance towards his uncle. Iroh's laughter concealed his worry; he could see the gears turning behind his nephew's eyes, and had no doubt who the young man's thoughts were focused on. Capturing the Avatar had been his goal for years; he had just come closer than ever before, too.

"Then I'll eat afterwards. I'm already behind schedule for the day." Zuko pushed himself up from the table, and stripped off his loose red shirt, exposing his bare chest to the crisp air. "Petty Officer Nakamura, get up."

Hachiro groaned and stretched, rising to his feet. "Of course, Prince. How do you want to exhaust me today?"

"Sparring." Zuko's ignored the man's quip, and Iroh watched his nephew closely. The prince's eyes had bags under them, his tangled hair was haphazardly tied up in a topknot, and his face had just the barest layer of untrimmed stubble. The old general restrained a scowl, and stroked his beard.

"Got it." Hachiro nodded, and pulled off his chest armor, before joining the prince farther up the deck. The two of them faced each other, their stances wide and strong as both of them sized up their opponent. Zuko's weary gaze became dark and predatory, while Hachiro's thin lips, usually twisted in a casual smile, were instead pressed into a narrow line.

Zuko moved first, sweeping low with a scythe-like crescent of fire, but Hachiro leaped over the attack, and rolled to one side, easily dodging. Iroh shifted on his pillow into a more comfortable position, appearing distracted as he continued to place his tiles on the table, but his hands were merely moving out of habit. He watched the men duel closely, letting his other worries fade to the back of his mind as he watched the two men push back and forth against each other like the cresting waves, picking apart their movements and mistakes.

The two of them had long since stopped making basic mistakes; Hachiro was naturally athletic, and Zuko was far from unpracticed. While neither had the prodigal levels of bending Iroh heard the princess had developed since they had left the Fire Nation, the two practiced daily under the old man's tutelage, and Iroh had been careful to nudge their bending in the right direction. And that's all it truly was: a nudge. Bending was an expression of themselves, and so forcing them to bend differently would be forcing them to change themselves.

But, nudges could only do so much, and watching the two, Iroh understood they both had much to learn. Zuko had learned much over his years at sea, but Iroh noted that he still consistently overextended himself during the spar. He would step too far forward, attack too aggressively, and near the end, throw out sloppy and desperate attacks. Hachiro, as well, was still struggling. The young man was defensive and evasive, easily avoiding Zuko's attack, but was unwilling to strike out at the holes in Zuko's defences. As such, the duel played out much like many others Iroh had seen between the two, with Hachiro eventually failing to dodge an attack.

Zuko's high kick, wild and unbalanced, caught Hachiro's leg as he jumped, causing the soldiers face to meet the unyielding metal deck. Zuko spared no time, jumping on top of the soldier and straddling him, one hand on the man's throat and the other clutching a ball of flame.

Hachiro struggled briefly, but Zuko was relentless, only putting more weight on the man's neck. Finally, Hachiro rapped his hand against Zuko's forearm, and bucked with one last burst of energy. "Yield, yield!" His voice was small and weak, lacking enough air to speak clearly. Zuko released the man's neck, and rolled to the side, letting out a relieved sigh. Despite the chilly air, the two were both doused in sweat.

"Nephew, you were too aggressive." Iroh said nonchalantly, setting the last tile in place. A perfect Lotus configuration.

Zuko grunted, and pushed himself up, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I won."

"But you left yourself exposed, like a badger-fox chasing a deer through an open field." Iroh began stacking the tiles, a satisfied smile on his face as he placed each painted tile on top of the other. "Should it have been another badger-fox you were facing, they surely would have struck when you were vulnerable."

Zuko clicked his tongue, and his eyebrows twitched. "You've said that for years now, Uncle."

Iroh simply shrugged, and chuckled. "Perhaps I am out of wisdom, then, my nephew!

Zuko rolled his eyes, and stood up, his eyes still locked on the shore. "Petty officer, another round."

Hachiro gave an exhausted sigh, and pushed himself onto his elbows. "Yep, on it, sir."

"Prince!" A crewman burst through the hatch to the main tower, his clothes in disarray and clutching a piece of paper in his hand. "Prince, it's a message from the shore crew!"

"Yes?" Zuko didn't make a move towards the soldier, his voice stiff. Iroh watched the prince's reaction, curious. His nephew was nothing if not brash and quick to devour any information that might even have the slightest connection to the Avatar. Yet he was instead completely composed, ignoring how sweat-drenched he was.

"Well, uh, we got it last night, and I should've reported it to you then, but I was with…" The man rambled on with various excuses, but Zuko did not interrupt, simply listening. How odd of his nephew...

"A-anyway, the message…"

"Spit it out." Zuko finally spoke, his typical impatience finally revealing itself. Was the prince finally trying to be more patient? The old general had his doubts, but would certainly support it, were it the case.

"Half of the shore crew had been attacked by the Avatar last night." The soldier's voice was weak, and he was trying to look anywhere but the prince's cold eyes. "The men were brought to the town center to rest, but some of them need medical attention."

The messenger fell silent, and braced himself for the prince's wrath. But it didn't come; the prince closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as though holding back a stream of words behind his tight lips and furrowed brow.

"Have there been any more messages since this one?" Zuko finally spoke, without a drop of surprise or anger in his voice. He sounded tired, even annoyed, as though it had been news he had been expecting. Hopefully, this wasn't Zuko believing that failure was his natural state. Iroh had seen people give into that before, and he did not want to ever see it happen again.

"Uh, no sir." The soldier's anxiousness quickly became confusion, seeming unprepared for a calm reaction.

"I see." The prince ran his hand through his long hair, straightening his thick bangs. "Prepare a ship for me. Petty Officer Nakamura, you are to accompany me to shore. Every village has someone who practices basic medicine, so we'll use them."

The soldier nodded curtly and surried below deck, going to prepare the landing craft, while Hachiro gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Iroh watched his nephew gather up his things, the old general's eyes wide at the pleasant surprise. "That was quite the well measured response, Prince Zuko. Did something happen?"

Zuko wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt, and gave his uncle an irritated look. "Maybe your endless amount of cheesy metaphors has finally reached me."

Iroh gave a toothy grin, ignoring his nephew's tone. "That's wonderful! Perhaps I should help you by saying them more often."

Zuko rolled his eyes, but didn't bother with a reply, instead marching below deck, bound for his room. "I'm going to search for the Avatar on my own today. I'll be back at some point tonight."

Iroh watched his nephew go below deck, watching him closely. Had he grown yet again? Iroh hoped so. But his dark gold eyes lingered on the prince's back, and more specifically on the flurry of long, thin scars flayed across his back. It had taken the South Pole to make the boy realize things can go horribly wrong, and the Si Wong desert only reinforced that. He hoped Zuko wouldn't have to learn a similar lesson here.

Zuko stepped onto the rotting dock, the wood creaking under his gold trimmed leather boots. Well, nominally gold trimmed; after years at sea, the gold coloring had cracked and faded, leaving nothing more than a dull ghost of the color.

The sun was nearing its peak, and the air had long since lost its chill, instead lingering in a zone that was too warm to be wintery, but too cold to be comfortable for the hot blooded firebender. If nothing else, he was begrudgingly grateful for his thick, and thus warm, black armor.

Petty Officer Nakamura stepped onto the dock with him, standing just far enough behind the prince to be respectful of his authority. Zuko had mixed feelings towards the man. Nakamura seemed to always be pushing the limits of respect, falling in line with Uncle's idea that the two should be friends, which irritated Zuko to no end. He was a prince, and Nakamura was a soldier; their relationship didn't need to go any farther than that. Yet, at the same time, Zuko had to acknowledge that the petty officer was loyal and hardworking, traits that were hard not to appreciate.

Of course, Zuko couldn't say that to his face. He had appearances to maintain, obviously, and the man was already annoying enough without a full head.

"So, what the plan?" Nakamura looked around the bay, finally having a chance to look at it without earthbenders trying to kill him.

Zuko held himself back from chiding the man for his casual tone, despite the slight against his pride. He had more important issues at hand. "First, we find my men and get them treated. I want a squad to do a sweep of the drier lands to the north-east of the bog; if the avatar was to flee, he'd probably go there." He strut off the dock, and began up the dirt path to the village.

"Understood." Nakamura followed close behind, his voice muffled by his skull-like mask. "Who's going to be in the sweep?"

"That depends on who's not injured." Zuko said plainly, too distracted with his own thoughts to give a full answer. Nakamura nodded in understanding, and remained silent as they walked through the evergreen forest. Zuko notice the soldier had become adept at knowing when to leave the prince to his thoughts, although it had taken him several years to reach that point. The soldier had been even more chatty and less restrained when he had first been exiled, which had initially led to Zuko disdaining the older boy.

The sweep, for all intents and purposes, wasn't meant to succeed. Of course, if they did manage to find the Avatar's new hiding place and report it back to Zuko, all the better, since he was not looking forward to dealing with the girl he had met last night. Chohua? Qiuhua? Something like that. Regardless, he could tell she wasn't stupid, and considering his past, he had little faith in his abilities to pretend to be someone else. The entire persona of the Blue Spirit was secrecy and stealth, a costume more than a character. So having to pretend to be a protector of the Avatar? That wasn't going to go well.

And besides, she had requested his help. He had accepted the deal, seeing the chance to capture the Avatar, but he was just starting to realize he had no idea what that entailed. Was she wanting him to fight his own men? If that was what it took to capture the Avatar, he would, but it was not something he wanted. His eyes were locked firmly on the ground in front of him, his body walking on its own as the prince's mind sorted through the thoughts.

All of these thoughts were still lingering just below the surface when the two reached the village center. A gentle wind blew from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and water, and the dark firs shifted in the breeze. From the village center, a few people could be seen moving around, showing some signs of normality since the attack two days ago. But the village still felt quite empty to Zuko, who was used to the packed bazaars of the Western Earth Colonies and the crowded markets of seemingly even the smallest villages lining the Mo Ce sea. There were some people working in small fields, harvesting their crop, and an old woman making noodles out of dough while trying to also keep track of a young child. But the village center itself, an empty patch of rocky mud with a few tufts of green grass, was filled to the brim with men dressed in black armor. Most were sprawled on the ground, or leaning against the sparse outcroppings of trees and rocks, resting, either out of exhaustion or injuries. Of the dozen and a half men in the center, only five were awake and active, standing guard or tending to the small fire they had built to keep the injured ones warm.

He stepped between and over his soldiers, headed for the campfire, and held back the scowl that tugged at his lips. From what he could see at a glance, his men all had far more than their fair share of bruises, and a few had their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He wanted to take far more than a glance at them, but restrained himself; he was a prince, not a healer, and thus his place was to be above his soldiers, not looking them over for injuries. His concern lingered at the back of his mind, though, clinging weakly but tirelessly to the edge of his consciousness no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

"Chief Yoshida!" Zuko called out, making sure his voice was stern and demanded respect.

"Prince Zuko!" The man tending to the fire turned and saluted the prince, his back stiff and straight. His face was hidden by his white mask, but the tips of his helmet spikes were black, marking him as one of the three chief petty officers on Zuko's ship. "I was afraid that you had not gotten my message."

"At ease. I would have been here sooner, but the communications officer refrained from informing me until recently. I would have arrived sooner otherwise." His voice was low and bitter, not unlike a weasel-snake. "Status report."

Chief Yoshida cleared his throat, and stood a bit straighter. "Prior to us changing shifts, Lieutenant Jee's force was ambushed by the avatar. The soldiers that have come to told us the avatar was alone, but was too fast for them to hit him. The Avatar took everything in the house, and, uh..."

Zuko nodded wearily and glared at the soldier, his patience already wearing thin already. He couldn't say it, but these were all things he already knew. "The injury report, chief. Who's injured, and how badly?"

"Well, none of it is certain, since none of us are medically knowledgeable, but…" The chief stumbled over his words, organizing his thoughts. Zuko's eyebrow twitched in irritation. Yoshida did his job well, but he wished the man knew how to talk without thinking through every single word. "There are four with either broken or fracture bones, possibly half a dozen with sprained or twisted joints. Petty officers Kondo and Ota both had dislocated shoulders, but we were able to force it back into place." Yoshida paused at the thought, visibly uncomfortable even from the other side of his mask.

"And others..?" Zuko's watched him dryly. He had too much to do to just waste time waiting for this man to get over his discomfort.

"Uh, yes." Yoshida swallowed his uneasiness, and continued. "Almost all of them have scratches and bruises, as well as frostbite."

Not to mention plenty of exhaustion, Zuko added to himself. Yoshida looked like he was struggling just to stay on his feet, swaying precariously on the balls of his feet now that he was no longer saluting. HIs men needed rest, more than anything. He could still send a small group to the plains in the north-east, but that would only tire them more, not to mention put them in even more danger if the Avatar was there. He clicked his tongue impatiently, and narrowed his eyes, looking at nothing in particular as he evaluated his options.

He wanted to send his troops, he wouldn't lie to himself, but he also knew that might be too hasty. Uncle was always saying he was too aggressive, after all, and despite being a tea-drinker with a penchant for mundane flowers, the man was also the Dragon of the West. He internally bemoaned himself. The prince had been forced to listen to Uncle for so long that he couldn't even ignore the man in the confines of his own mind.

"Have you found the village healer?" Zuko doubted the healer would willingly cooperate, but he could hope for good luck. Well, it would be more like 'daydreaming of' rather than 'hoping for,' considering his past.

"Ah, well, yes, but... she refused to see us."

"Of course." He grimaced. "Show me where she is. She doesn't get a choice in the matter."

"Yessir." Yoshida nodded curtly and turned, walking in the direction of the supposed healer. Zuko looked towards Nakamura and jerked his head, before following Yoshida.

The three walked quickly through the village, Zuko's strides fast and focused. They soon arrived at the house with the gazebo, which Zuko immediately recognized. While he was used to healers living in smaller huts or temples, but he supposed there were many types of people around the Earth Kingdom. They were all peasants, of course, but still many types.

Zuko took the lead as they passed through the gate, his two masked soldiers falling in step behind him. Intimidation was key, and being flanked by the two would certainly help. He supposed that, if there was any reason for him to be thankful for his scar, it was that it made him look like a monster, and few people could look him in the eye without fear.

He banged on the wooden door with his fist, as subtle and polite as a komodo-rhino. "Open up!"

An older woman with sandy brown hair, possibly in her forties, looked down from a second story window, and seemed to his at the sight of Fire Nation Soldiers. "I'm not going to use help your men! I already told you!" She slammed the shutters shut, not willing to say anything more.

Zuko gave a low growl, and clenched his teeth. He had run into this type before, and they were a pain to deal with. "If you don't open this door, we'll open it for you!"

He waited a few moments, but there was no response. "Fine then." He snorted, and looked at Yoshida and Nakamura, silently conveying his orders.

The door was apparently quite old, or at least quite weak, considering how the frame offered almost no resistance. The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Zuko's foot made contact with the door, and it flew open with ease. Zuko sneered. Why did the woman even bother locking it? A child could've kicked it down.

At the other end of the hallway, the woman rushed down the stairway, a large jin sword in her hands. She was a small woman, at least a head shorter than the prince, but she had a vicious look in her eyes, like a rabid animal. "Get the hell out of my home, ashmaker!"

The firebenders fell into their well-practiced stances, smoothly stalking down the hallway like a pack of wolves. The woman held her ground at the end of the hallway, her eyes darting between the three intruders. She held the sword as best she could, but it was obvious that she was no fighter; her hands were shaking, her stance was too wide and too low, the sword was far too heavy for her.

"Now, this isn't a very polite welcome." Zuko smiled a shark-like grin, seeing the fear in her eyes. "How about you put down the sword, so we can talk in a dignified way?"

Intimidation, as always, was key.

Qiuhua was tending to the herb garden behind her house, picking a small crop to dry before winter came, when she heard the banging against the door on the other side of the house. She flinched, almost dropping the clay bowl in her hands.

"Open up!" A man shouted, his tone aggressive and commanding.

It was as if time froze. Behind the house, everything was still, with the girl frozen in her tracks. She heard her mom's voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. The salty wind fluttered through the pine needles, like the gently calling of a spirit searching for something it had long since lost, and her feet sunk slightly into the soft dirt as she shifted her weight. She heard wooden shutters slam shut, and she gulped down the bile gathering in her throat.

When the firebenders had come last night, she had been deathly afraid. The Blue Spirit, whoever he was, had promised to help her, but that wouldn't matter if the fire nation soldiers took him first. She had hid just out of their sight, watching her mom turn them away at the door. They claimed that they just wanted medical treatment, but Qiuhua doubted it was anything more than a trap. And even if it was, she had no qualms with her mom turning away those men. They had put Mr. Li on the doorstep of the spirit realm after all, so they didn't deserve any help. And it seemed that her mom hadn't even given them the honor of opening the door this time, thank the spirits.

"If you don't open this door, we'll open it for you!" The man shouted again, but there was no reply. Relief flooded her tense limbs, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. They could shout and howl all they want, but her mother wasn't anything if not stubborn.

But all of that relief quickly turned into fear when she heard wood splinter. It was a stiff, sharp sound, like the tearing of parchment, but a dozen times louder and faster.

She didn't think. Her mind didn't bother with it; she just moved. She threw the bowl to the ground, and sprinted back the the house, slamming the door open. Her feet slapped against the wooden panel floor, and she turned the corner to the main hallway-

Just to barely catch herself on the doorframe in time to not run face first into a soldier. She skidded to a halt, her blood roaring in her ears, and her eyes flicking back and forth at the scene in front of her.

Her mom stood on the other side of a wall of firebenders, their wide shoulders and tall stature almost blocking Qiuhua's view. The woman, her jade colored robes giving her thin frame at least a scant amount of width, still seemed hopelessly small when standing against the three soldiers. But Qiuhua had seen that look in her mother's eye before, the vicious glare of someone who would rather fight to an inch of her life than stand down.

Her mother held the family sword in her hands, a well crafted blade that had been wielded by every man to ever lead Huisha. It seemed too large to be brandished by the woman, but she held it out with firm, if shaky hands.

And upon the girl's entrance, all eyes turned to the entrance where she stood.

Her mother's eyes went wide, blatant fear peeking through her thin mask of control. "Qiuhua, get out of here! I'll handle this!"

Qiuhua took an uncertain step back, her mind scrambling to gather her thoughts, but the choice was made for her.

A rough hand grabbed her loose shirt, and dragged her back into the hallway. She grasped and clawed at the hand, half coherent wimpers escaping her throat and she struggled, but the masked soldier holding her simply pulled harder, twisting her arm and kicking the backs of her knees. Her legs gave out, and the man pulled her into the hallway, holding her arms behind her back.

"Now, what do we have here?" She heard the voice from before, but now it was smoother, more controlled. She continued to struggle, but the soldier didn't budge, holding her in place as she was inspected by the man.

"Let her go." Mom's voice was a low growl, carrying an unspoken threat.

"I think not." The man said plainly, leaning closer. Qiuhua's heart pounded in her throat, and her breath hitched when she saw his face.

He was a tall man, perhaps a few years older than her, but definitely still young. He had long, thick locks of black hair that tumbled down the back and sides of his head like dark waterfalls, and he had a messy topknot secured by a golden band. He had a clean shaven face and a strong jawline, not to mention pale, piercing gold eyes that seemed to watch her with a unnerving mix of curiosity and surprise. But what caught her attention more than all of his obvious Fire Nation traits, was the scar.

The entire left side of his face, stretching from his slit-like eye to his jagged ear, was covered in gnarled, red flesh, with deep crevices and dark splotches. She squeezed her eyes shut, and twisted her head, futilely trying to get away from the firebender. She could feel his eyes travel over her, and heard his approving grunt.

"Well, it seems we can strike a deal, peasant." The firebender took a step back, and faced her mom. "You help my soldiers, and we make sure this girl stays in good health."

Qiuhua's saw her mother's resolve waver, but it returned as instantly as it left. "Are you threatening to hurt my daughter?"

The scarred man raised his one eyebrow, and took a confident step towards Mom. "As a prince, it is below my place to threaten someone. But keep this in mind:"

He took another step, ignoring the way her mother gripped the blade even harder, her knuckles turning white. "You don't get to say no. It's not an option for you. I don't care what your opinion is, because, like it or not, I could burn this entire village to the ground, and no one could stop me. I am not bargaining with you because I have no other choice; I'm bargaining with you because I think it would be a waste of resources to torture you into helping me.

Qiuhua felt ice in her stomach. He was telling the truth, he didn't threaten them; he just delivered an ultimatum. Watching the way her mom's eyes went back and forth, between the scarred man her, Qiuhua felt sick. If only the Avatar was here… Or spirits, at least if she was strong enough to break out of this man's grip. She tried to wiggle out of his arms, but it was no use.

"Well?" The man's voice was flat and low, disdainful.

Mom sucked in a harsh breath, but had no answer, clenching her jaw

The man sneered, and narrowed his eyes. He held his palm open, a wild orange flame blooming into existence where there previously was cool air, and he turned to Qiuhua. "I advise you decide soon whether or not you want to keep you daughter's life." He held the flame close enough to her face that she could feel the hot tongues licking hungrily at her cheek, and she let out a subdued cry, like a scared deer-puppy.

She wished she could just put the flame out. She wished she could push him away, or at least be strong enough that her life wasn't just some gambling chip to him. But she was powerless to stop the chilling fear from creeping into her heart and infecting her mind.

She heard the sound of metal clattering to the floor, like a dish shattering into a million shards.

"Fine, you win." Her mom's voice was bitter and angry, surrendering, but not defeated. "Let my daughter go."

The scarred man clamped his fist closed, extinguishing the fire, and he looked between the two women. Qiuhua could see the wheels in his mind spinning, as though he had plenty still to calculate before letting her go. Oh spirits, please don't take her away and lock her up or something as bartering material. Even ignoring her meeting with the Blue Spirit tonight, the last thing she wanted to be was a prisoner of the Fire Nation. Considering how this man was acting, he probably forced his prisoners to eat the rats they found on the ship.

But strangely enough, he simply looked at her for a moment, and his eyes softened. He watched her with a look of… could it be called empathy? Qiuhua didn't know, her heartbeat still to fast for her her to think straight.

But the gentle look in his eyes dissipated, a soft cloud melting away in the sunlight to reveal a warmachine. "Fine. She has to stay in our camp while you care for our men, though."

The soldier holding her let go, pushing her away. She stumbled, catching herself and scurrying away from the men. She stood just behind her mother, glaring at the scarred man. He glared back, not even bothering to hide his sense of superiority.

He turned on his heel, and jerked his head towards the door. "Get a move on. I don't have time to waste on stubborn peasants."

Qiuhua knew the spirits didn't approve of violence, but if they had been willing to give her just one chance, she had no doubt she'd use it to beat some sense into that ashmaker.

A/N: Good evenin' all! Or, morning, or afternoon, or whenever you're reading this. Just make it good, I suppose. I hope everyone had a great Christmas! I'm sorry I'm a day late, I decide to take Tuesday off and celebrate a bit. Did everyone enjoy the chapter? This was a bit more difficult to write, compared to the others, so I hope it turned out alright. (I planned WAY too much content for this chapter, so I had to split it in two.)

Next chapter, we should get to Zuko and Qiuhua's first "session," and they'll see what their partnership will entail. Hopefully, this will go better for Zuko than most things in life, the poor guy. (He says, after writing Zuko threaten to kill someone.)

For the glory of the Fire Nation, follow and comment!

Coolconnor95: Thank you! I hope you like the upcoming chapters!