Smellerbee took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she gathered her focus. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck, a testament of how long she had been in the sun. She let out a grunt as she released the knife, the sharp blade sailing through the air before coming to a stop on the edge of the bulls-eye painted on the trunk of a tree. She crossed the clearing in a few short strides, pulling the slightly crooked dagger from the wood. Her strength had increased, but her aim had room for improvement.

She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the sky between the tree tops. The clouds had a golden hue to them, letting her know it was close to dinner time. She sheathed the dagger and picked up the katanas laying a few feet away, strapping them to her back. She gave the clearing a quick sweep, making sure she hadn't left any clues to her presence, and scaled the nearest tree.

Branches shook as she swung herself between them, scattering leaves on the forest floor below. It didn't take Smellerbee long to make it back to the treehouse, which had grown more into a village over the past few years. The Freedom Fighter's numbers had grown from five to twenty-five. A few were just children, eight at the yougest. They had been trained to fight of course, but they mostly did scouting, hunting, and odd jobs around the hideout. Sneers even had a little girl as his apprentice in the kitchen.

One of the younger kids, at about ten years old, had been trained by Smellerbee. She had shown him basic knife-handling skills, how to recreate all the birdcalls they used, and had even helped him come up with his new name: The Duke. While Smellerbee had trained him, Pipsqueak had taken the Duke in as a little brother. She secretly believed it had something to do with the brother he had lost so many years ago.

They were stronger now and the Fire Nation knew it. The last time Smellerbee, Longshot, and Sneers had gone into town for supplies, there had been a wanted poster for the Freedom Fighters. There wasn't a picture of course. They were far too quick for the soldiers to see them, assuming any were still around to give a description.

She leaped down from the branch she was balancing on and found their tree, pulling the rope and zipping to the top platform, landing next to the resident archer. Longshot looked up from sharpening arrows at the sudden movement, nodding at her.

'How was target practice?'

She shrugged and leaned against the railing. "It was fine. I've gotten stronger but my accuracy is what needs work now. Think you could give me some tips?"

Longshot offered a half smile and a shrug. 'If you think you can handle training with me.'

Smellerbee rolled her eyes, punching her friend's arm lightly as she sat next to him. They sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the scrape of the rock against Longshot's arrowheads. They turned when there was the sound of footsteps, their leader appearing next to them.

"After dinner there's a meeting in the war room. I need you two there. Don't be late," he said, the piece of buckwheat between his teeth bouncing with each word.

Longshot nodded and Smellerbee gave a mocking salute. "Aye, Captain Jet." Jet shook his head and walked away, presumably to find the rest of the core five.

After he left, Smellerbee and Longshot made their way to their respective huts. She scrubbed the dirt from her hands with a rag she had next to her bed, doing the same to her forehead. Her fingers traced over the scar lightly, but she was distracted by a echoing birdcall. She walked out of her hut to find Longshot leaning against the doorway waiting for her.

They crossed the bridge to the eating area, Smellerbee speaking softly to Longshot as he nodded in response. She greeted Autumn, Sneers' apprentice, as they got in line before returning her attention to Longshot. They continued their conversation as they received their bowls of boar-q-pine stew and made their way to their usual places at the long table. The din of the clearing grew louder as more Fighters came to eat, everyone chattering happily over their stew. Smellerbee laughed loudly as she watched Pipsqueak try to balance his spoon on his nose

Longshot chuckled as well and Pipsqueak turned to the two, playfully angry. "You're laughing so hard, you do it!"

Longshot licked his spoon clean and then balanced it on his nose with ease. Sipping the last bit of soup straight from her bowl, Smellerbee passed him her spoon as well. Moving carefully, he balanced it in between his eyebrows. The Duke excitedly gave him another spoon which he put on his cheek. This went on until there was a spoon on almost every inch of Longshot's face. Making eye contact with Smellerbee, he cracked a smile, making the spoons fall from his face

Pipsqueak shook his head and turned back to his spot, trying to hide a smile as he muttered, "Show off."

Longshot just shrugged and started to return the spoons to their owners. Jet stood and placed his plate by the dish sink. Smellerbee watched him walk towards the war room, catching the glance he threw at her over his shoulder. She tapped Longshot on the shoulder lightly, and they made their way to the dish station before following Jet to the small hut that served as a sort of strategy room. Sneers and Pipsqueak entered the room soon after and Jet began.

He rolled a map of the forest out on a table in the middle of the room, and the group corwded around it, trying to see.

"There's a camp coming in tomorrow here." Jet pointed a finger at the spot he was pointing out.

"We leave at dawn and we'll get there with enough time to get hidden. We wait until we hear the info we need and then we take them out. They're coming fresh from a village that they attacked so they should have plenty of supplies for us, and maybe even some new Fighters.

Smellerbee spoke up from her spot next to Longshot. "So, what, just the five of us?"

Jet shook his head. "The six of us. The Duke is coming along."

Pipsqueak was quick to refuse Jet's decision."Absolutely not."

Jet rolled his eyes. "It's not his first mission, Pipsqueak. Besides, he's trained."

"Trained to fight, Jet. Not to kill," Pipsqueak replied, leaning on the table as he locked eyes with Jet.

Jet's face hardened. "Don't you remember how old we were when we were thrown into this? Smellerbee was the same age as him." He pointed a slender finger at the girl as if to prove a point.

Smellerbee shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her name. Longshot put a comforting hand on her shoulder as Pipsqueak and Jet continued to argue. Sneers eventually spoke up, putting the argument to a hold.

"Let's settle this diplomatically. How about a vote? All those in favor of the Duke going with us, say 'aye'," he said, looking around the hut.

A small chorus of "ayes" echoed in the small space, Jet saying his while keeping eye contact with Pipsqueak. Sneers nodded, looking to Pipsqueak.

"All those opposed?"

A deep "nay" sounded, coming from the gentle giant in the middle of the room.

"So, it's settled. The Duke comes," Sneers said, dipping his head apologetically at Pipsqueak.

Jet looked smug. Pipsqueak looked angry.

"I'm going to remind you all that we are waking up earlier than the sun tomorrow so it might be beneficial to go to bed," Smellerbee said after a long and awkward silence.

The group nodded and mumbled agreements before filing out of the hut, save for Smellerbee, Longshot, and Jet. Jet sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"He'll come around tomorrow morning, Jet," Smellerbee said, resting a small hand on his arm.

"I hope so," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Get some rest you two."

Longshot nodded and clapped him on the back before following Smellerbee out of the hut. The two walked in comfortable silence back to their own huts, where they paused before parting.

"Night 'Shot," Smellerbee said, giving him a tired smile as she started towards her hut.

'Goodnight Bee. Don't stay up too late."

"Do I ever?" she asked him, smiling playfully when Longshot gave her a knowing look before disappearing into his hut.

Smellerbee used a worn rag to scrub the dirt and paint off of her face before removing her armor and boots. One of Longshot's tunics that had been long outgrown replaced her tight undershirt and her trademark headband was tossed on top of her pile of clothes in the corner. She sighed as she slipped underneath the thin blanket on her sleeping mat. Her eyes drooped closed as her head hit the pillow.