Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is the brainchild of Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko and is owned by Viacom. I own none of the characters in this story. If I did, I wouldn't be posting it on a fanfiction site, after all . . . they are all lovingly used without permission. This story is written solely for my personal amusement (and posted for the amusement of others) and to keep the crazy idea from boring a hole in my head, so I can get on with my life. I make no profit from this other than peace of mind!

Storytime at the Summer Cabin

"And a voice called out across the frozen planes of ice: 'Wind-igloo . . .'" a young man's voice called out in an eerie fashion, punctuating the story with spooky noises.

"It's 'Wendigo,'" came a young woman's snort, "You really don't remember the story that well, do you, Sokka?"

"I was just getting to the good part!" Sokka said indignantly, "Maybe you'd rather finish it, since you remember it so much better, Katara?"

"Aww, but I thought you were doing a good job!" came another girl's voice, this one with an enamored feel to it.

"You would," harrumphed a quieter girl's voice, almost inaudibly.

"What was that?" the second girl's voice again, snapping like a whip of challenge.

"I didn't say anything," one could almost hear the shrug in the third girl's voice.

"So what does a Wendigo look like?" another young man's voice popped up, full of innocence, the speaker probably intending to diffuse a quickly escalating quarrel before it started in earnest.

"It looks something like an arctic owl-bear," Katara's voice replied, "but with long, low horns like a bison-goat and sharp teeth and claws. And it walks upright, like a man!"

As Zuko padded quietly through the adjacent hallway with a small crate in his arms, he could clearly hear the conversation going on in the courtyard of his family's old summer home. It had been hours since nightfall, and the Fire Nation prince was mildly surprised that everyone was still wide awake. He walked past the doorway just in time to see Katara mimicking the lumbering gait of either a bear on its hind legs or a bloated penguin to the delighted laughter of the bald tattooed boy to one side of her. Zuko paused and screwed up his face as if to say "I know these people?" just outside the range of the firelight in the shadow of the doorway.

Sokka's indignant body language matched his voice, which Zuko in turn imagined would match the Water Tribe boy's tan face, since the erstwhile storyteller had his back to the onlooker. "Katara," he whined, "you just spoiled my story!" he threw his hands up in the air, displacing the reddish-brown-haired girl that was hanging on one of his arms, "Again!"

"Oh, I guess I forgot who the master story-bender was here," Katara mocked, bowing to her brother facetiously, long dark brown hair dangling past her shoulders, "Please, continue!" she said as she sat down, grinning.

Everyone was wearing a smile in the group except for Sokka, who crossed his arms as he spoke, "No. You've ruined it too much. The Wendigo is a very scary wind spirit haunting the arctic tundra who picks up unwary travelers and eats them, and you've just made it seem like a giant penguin-bear!"

There was snickering around the portable fire pit in the courtyard, and even Momo, the excitable lemur, chattered happily from his position around Aang's tattooed head. They'd decided to use the essential bit of camping equipment instead of the kitchen fireplace to reduce the smoke that might be seen by a careful observer. Habitation of a dilapidated old house was much easier to hide if there wasn't smoke coming from the chimney. It was something that Zuko had to point out to them a few times over the past day or so before they got the hint, especially since the house boasted quite the gourmet kitchen. It had been hard to talk Katara out of using it when she saw it . . . until she saw the large wolf-spiders that had taken up residence in some of the empty cupboards, that was. Zuko still had to stifle a snicker whenever he thought of the normally fearless master waterbender's startled reaction to the oversized kitchen natives.

"Oh Sokka," Suki, the warrior woman hanging off Sokka's arm soothed her flustered boyfriend, "but I wanted to hear the rest of the story! I like scary stories . . ." The tan boy appeared slightly mollified, but continued to glare at the rest of his audience.

It was an odd relationship the two of them had, in Zuko's opinion. There didn't seem to be much actual courting, just a bunch of kissing and petting when the two of them thought the rest of the group wouldn't notice. Which was quite often. And they were noticed almost as often, comically pretending like they were just practicing whistling together or something whenever the Fire Prince (or anyone else) walked by. For some reason, they seemed especially nervous when Zuko was the one to see them, as if they thought he was supposed to be a chaperone just because he was a year or so older, even though he never really gave a sign of disapproval. He supposed that the mutual saving of each others lives the couple had repeatedly done made up for the lack of textbook romance.

Regardless, Zuko tried not to think about it too much. If he so much as acknowledged their more than platonic interactions, it reminded him too much of his time with Mai. At least he'd courted her, given her gifts, ordered her exotic food, taken her for rides in his palanquin, even sat for a portrait with her in addition to the un-chaperoned kissing and petting . . .

Not for the first time in the past few weeks, Zuko's heart clenched. He wondered guiltily what had happened to her in the same space that he continued to be awestruck by what she'd done for them. No, not for them. For him. He was the only person she cared about in the whole world, and for all Zuko knew, she'd quite possibly laid down her life for him. In defying his sister, she'd certainly risked it, at least.

And now, her sacrifice was all the more reason for him to succeed. The rest of the group might not have noticed, but ever since Sokka and his return from the Boiling Rock, Zuko had been more driven and, if it was possible, even a little more serious in some respects. For Mai, if for no one and nothing else, this plan had to succeed. The Firelord, his father, must be defeated. And for that to happen, the Avatar needed to learn as much firebending from him as possible before the impending arrival of the comet.

And of course, true to form, Zuko's star pupil was staying up late sitting around a campfire listening to ghost stories.

Zuko sighed quietly. It used to be Mai who'd bring him out of introspective funks like this, but to get things done now, he'd have to do it himself. There would be plenty of time for self-pity after everything was over. Turning his attention back to the campsite, the golden-eyed teenager noticed that Sokka had resumed his story after what probably wasn't much cajoling. So they wanted to be scared, huh? Zuko set aside his guilt for Mai right beside his guilt for his uncle in the back of his mind, shifted the crate under one arm, took a light stance, and waited.