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Swift Rivers and Raging Fires

Chapter 19: Pestering Shadows

Summary:

Life in the battalion continues after Katara re-induction, but it's far from the same as before, tensions still lingering and new ones building as Katara, Zuko, and the rest of the soldiers adjust to the new normal...

Notes:

surprise bitch ! bet you thought youd seen the last of me...

"hey can u not make us wait 3 months for the next update? pls?"
me: "sure :D" *disappears for 7 months*
yall: "bruh wtf..."

okay but TRUTHFULLY, IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. uni and life and everything has been,,, yeah,,,, and ive honestly forgotten what writing for fun was??? hopefully this makes up for the painful wait, and for those whove stuck around this unreliable author, YALL THE GOAT ILY <33

WARNING: !!descriptions of torture!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Zuko was at a loss. Truly. It seemed that Katara, true to her nature, was steadfast in her claim to not only be a good soldier regardless of her personal opinion of him, but to make the moments between a relentless spiral of guilt upon his conscience.

Despite a vast majority of his soldiers still treading warily around the woman among their ranks, the young captain had noticed some coming around to the (frankly obvious, in his opinion) realisation that the man they had known, befriended, and fought beside as Kuruk was still fundamentally there; all his loyalty, bravado, resilience, kindness, hard-headedness, and formidable strength. It was all still there within Katara, just presented in the supposedly unassuming form of a woman. Zuko was glad for it when he saw Tom-Tom immediately embrace Katara upon their return, mumbling quiet words that drew her hands to caress between his shoulder blades. In the fortnight since, others like Chit-Sang, Gengsu, and Haru had gradually fallen back into something akin with regularity with their waterbending friend. Zuko had caught the other three cheering raucously as Katara gripped Gengsu’s trembling hand in an arm wrestle. He didn’t even realise that the exchange brought a smile to his face until it rapidly dropped off when the young woman made scathing eye contact with him, ocean-blue eyes turned glacial as she slammed her opponents hand down without a note of hesitation.

No… he had not been sleeping.

And the fraction of time that he did, his mind was riddled with the images of scorching gold eyes and blistering, unconquerable flames that always ended with him jolting upright in his futon, sweat clinging to him like his dampened clothes.

But it was fine. The nightmares had always been there, just sifting around and transfiguring through time. He’d learnt long ago to just deal with it.

He stared out over the stretch over the river the troops had crossed yesterday, tired golden eyes drinking in the honey hues of the early morning sun as it caught in the ripples and light waves. His back ached from sitting in half-lotus for so long, legs cramping and tingling as he considered standing for the first time in several hours. A separate part of his consciousness refuted, begging to allow his exhausted body to just crumple onto the ground. He sighed. Another sleepless night. They were bound to catch up with him soon.

To refocus his senses, he shut his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose. The saltiness of the riverbank and minerals she grinded onto the shore, the musk of bamboo and acacia. The heavy smell of gunpowder and smoke. Robust, ubiquitous, hanging at the back his throat. They were getting close. The ultimate test of character and courage, of true intentions and morality. His father would be waiting, ready to smother that down, shroud his men in their own insecurities until they were begging for mercy. Reducing them to shells of themselves so that the physical blow would hit so impossibly harder.

Zuko gritted his teeth, allowing the breath to escape him. Just like Katara, he had long since resolved to prohibit his emotions to cloud or sway his loyalty and sense of duty.

He opened his eyes once more, slowly cracking out the knots that had formed as he rose to his feet. The sun shone onto his bare back as he stretched, its resilient rays lapping at his quickly tanning skin like a gentle wave of warmth.

The snap of a twig behind him similarly tore him from his brief tranquillity. He pivoted on his foot, hands splayed with a fire brimming in one, eyes flashing as they scanned through the thicket. There were plenty of fox antelope around this area of the Earth Kingdom, but Zuko knew better than to assume any old noise as just that. Fire Nation soldiers, particularly those trained in reconnaissance, were taught how to step lightly so that sound was muffled, but a slip-up wasn’t impossible. His father was already intricately aware of his vast shift in loyalty, and despite being the villain within the Four Nations’ story, many still perceived him as the rightful ruler and would hardly hesitate to assist him in retaining that role indefinitely. Zuko crept forward, keeping close to the ground as the sound encroached on him. If there was one, there was most definitely more lurking nearby. He would have to quickly and quietly snuff this one out, then move the battalion out as swiftly as possible, before they could—

“Molasses. Of all La-forsaken things, it had to be fucking molasses— Oh.

Zuko’s eyes shot open. He relinquished the flame in his hand, straightened with a stilted swallow.

Katara stared back at him, copper skin stained ebony as the substance she had been cursing to the spirits above dripped down from her hair all over her face. Cerulean blue eyes met his, thick lashes clumped together by the thicker liquid. Her hands were frozen in front of her mid-wring, mouth dropped into a gentle teardrop shape. And despite the ridiculousness of the situation, of Zuko’s own rattled mind, he could hardly help it, nor even acknowledge its presence, when the word ‘cute’ manifested in among his thoughts.

Before he even had a moment to process the context of such a thought, It evaporated when Katara blinked, all shock shattered from her expression as her mouth set in a line and she wiped a sticky arm across her mouth. “Captain.”

Zuko could only watch as she walked to the waters’ edge, kneeling down beside it as she washed her hands. “H-hello. Uh… why are you—”

“Covered head to toe in enough molasses to feed a village? Great question,” she bit out, clean hands now directing the water to her hair. “The most creative act of misogyny I’ve ever experienced, if I had to label it. Great Tui, it’s everywhere.

Zuko’s brow furrowed and he took a step toward her. “They still haven’t stopped…”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, considering I was very strict and adamant about the fact that you are to be treated just as anyone else in this battalion and anyone found dishonouring that will be severely punished, yes… I am surprised.”

“It’s almost adorable that you think a few threats and choice words are going to convince some of those men to stop being their disgusting selves,” she quietly snorted. Her fingers worked along her scalp, guiding rivulets of diluted molasses into the water beside her. “Men are inherent cow pigs. They’ll take any chance to belittle a woman and remind her of her place that they can.”

Zuko couldn’t find the will to argue with that.

“I just wish they’d stick to techniques that aren’t so wasteful nor time-consuming.” Hair now shy of clean, she flipped it back and tucked it behind her ear to tend to her face.

As she began to scrub, a sharp hiss was drawn from her mouth. Zuko settled into a crouch beside her, eyes immediately fixed to her face. “What is it?”

She turned her head away, the movement harsh and bitter. “None of your concern.”

“Katara—”

“Let me be in a moment of silence, or is that too much for the Fire Prince to consider?”

“Something is clearly—”

“I’m trying to wash up and not be within your proximity if I can help it, thank you very much.”

Zuko leaned forward and grasped her jaw, bringing her head around to face him. In her moment of absolute bewilderment, he saw it. The violent red that smarted her cheek, curving around the bone down to her mouth.

She pulled back near instantly, eyes furious tempests, but Zuko had already seen it and was feeling that familiar fire ignite within his chest. “Who did that.”

“How dare you touch me! Manhandling me like that—what is wrong with you?!”

“Katara, this is beyond mild pranking. This is assault. You need to tell me who did that to you.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” She glared out at the water, freshly bruised cheek hidden from his view. “You made this my problem, so I’ll deal with it how I see fit to.”

He reached for her across the riverbank. “Katara—” Her withering glare stopped him in his motions, retracting his hand. He then sighed. “Okay… I won’t touch you. I promise. But please, just… listen. I can’t in good conscience know that one of the men serving under me did that to a fellow soldier, knowing they could just as easily do it and worse again.”

“I can handle a few men. You know that. And if you refuse to acknowledge that, then—”

“I know you can. I know how capable you are,” he murmured, eyes flitting to jagged scar that had begun to form on her forearm. “Katara, I know you have no trust in me right now. I’m not asking you to trust me, or to allow me to… support you. Whoever is doing this is clearly violent and unstable, and quite possibly a dangerous, potentially disloyal liability to us when it comes to battle. They could also do this to another soldier. Knowing who it is would put me at greater ease for the sake of the battalion.”

Katara seemed to consider him for a moment, bottom lip worrying between her teeth. Then, her shoulders sagged with a sigh and she tilted her head up toward the dawning heavens. “What is it with Northern men…”

“Northern…?” Zuko’s brows knitted.

“Northern Water Tribe,” she answered simply, and Zuko began to catalogue every blue-eyed man within his troops. “Southern Tribesmen aren’t wholly angelic either, but those idiots have the most incomprehensibly fragile egos when it comes to women. I just…”

Her concluding sigh alluded to so much more that Zuko knew he hadn’t even begun to grasp. He didn’t get it. Truly. And he knew he never really would. Sure, aspects of his life came close in the general; his royal status among his people, his lacking skill in firebending around what he had once deemed his family, his scar among… just about anyone. But never something so obtuse or ridiculously inconsequential as his manhood. And even in the Fire Nation, for all its downfalls and constant, overbearing call for tradition… women were valued beyond their ability to serve men.

And for a woman as extraordinary as Katara to have been constantly rendered as nothing more than exactly that by her own people, to be seen as an object of shame and misfortune to her family and tribe… Zuko avoided anger where he could these days—it was wise for the benefit of everyone, as well as his general (thinly tethered) stability—but it was the unnecessary anger such as this that sent something boiling within the deepest recesses of his being.

His anger wasn’t important now, though. Agni, his fingers burnt with the itch to set something—maybe Sitka’s pants—alight, but he knew Katara’s water would swiftly follow that, slamming into him like a torrent.

 “‘In the struggle between the stone and water, the water always wins’,” whispered the voice of his uncle, a nebulous image of him dabbing a stick into a koi pond, younger Zuko peering over his shoulder in uncontainable rapture. “Remember, Zuko, that each element has with it its own strengths and weaknesses, that which alleviates and burdens the bender respectively. And while the waterbenders can mistrust the everchanging world around them, they know how to change themselves in tandem. The ebb and flow of waves is formed by currents, and while the waters themselves may gradually change, drop by drop, the movement remains consistent. So their strength, Zuko…”

“Is their unshifting ability to adapt,” he finished the thought, muttering under his breath.

“What?”

Zuko glanced up to see Katara staring wide-eyed as though he had spontaneously spoken in tongues. He cleared his throat, attempted to organise his thoughts. “I… Okay.”

“Did you…” Her eyes narrowed, soft gawk in her features. “Wow, yeah, I don’t know why I bothered telling you. Like you’d start actually caring enough now to listen—”

“Wait, Katara—”

“I don’t even know why I tried, and with you of all people? Have I truly and finally lost it?” She turned with a rueful chuckle, void of any mirth, sparing a single glance over her shoulder to glare at him openly with the injured side of her face. “Thanks again for another humungous waste of my time, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make up for said colossal waste of time in my schedule and tend to my dragon moose now. His hooves have been cracking, since someone decided to double-time across the rocky terrain.” A head-tilt so shallow and fast that Zuko would’ve missed it entirely had he not been trained on her every move and admission. “Captain.”

Like the water she commanded, Zuko felt a visceral pull to chase after her, tightening mercilessly in his chest. But he was the Captain, first and foremost, and she was his subordinate. He would not be the one to chase her when the need to run became apparent. She had chosen to be insolent rather than allow him a moment to explain, she was the one who had chosen to run—

He sighed, teeth gritting as he stared out over the golden sunrise as it flooded over the Earth Kingdom hills. The familiar rush of heat on his system, seeping through to the extremities of his chi, arrived with it, but it lacked the comforting warmth it usually did. It had been lacking for the past fortnight.

No amount of mercilessly drilled authority within him could change what he knew it to be. Cowardice. He couldn’t go after Katara, couldn’t make that effort to amend things, because he was a coward.

“You’re a coward, Zuko. Just like your slovenly uncle, your unfortified cousin. I had thought it was disappear from your foolish youth, but I was disappointed. What a surprise that was. You are a disgrace to your family, to your nation. To your own name.”

Bending down, he claimed his maroon robe, ignoring the pang within his stomach, as he wrapped it around his shoulders and moved from the waterside. Katara’s molasses layered footprints led away to his left. Inhaling a shuddering breath of the humid morning air, Zuko stepped to the right.


“Come on, Banlu. That’s it, that’s a good boy—Oh, I know, I know, handsome. So brave, though. Such a good boy, such a good boy. The best boy!”

“What about me? Aren’t I best boy as well?”

Katara shot a look at Aang over her shoulder that was meant to be withering, but quickly fell short as a frown overtook her expression once more. She turned back around, still crouching by her steed’s cracked and sensitive hooves, heart breaking as the aging dragon moose retracted his foot under the stroke of her ointment coated brush.

A huffed sigh breathed from her lips and she gently shook her head. “I know it hurts, but this is gonna help you so much. All that awful pain that’s been hanging around for the past few days? It’ll numb. Your poor feet will feel so much better, I promise you. Just have to get through a little discomfort first. I’m sorry.”

Banlu’s eyes flashed and he snorted like her suggestion personally offended him and that she really wasn’t sorry at all. He bellowed softly as she brushed the paste over once more.

A soft wind bounced onto Katara’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Banlu,” Aang said, nestling onto the larger animal’s withers. “Katara knows what she’s doing! She’s super smart, especially about healing and cool medicine—not that I like medicine, or anything, ‘cause who does? But she’ll fix you right up, is what I’m trying to say. Trust her. Focus on the clouds.”

Katara was weirdly thankful for the young spirit’s incessant chirp. She didn’t quite know how legitimate his communication with the very normal, albeit grumpy, dragon moose was, but in any case, he seemed to sedate Banlu for the moment. The sigh echoed from his lungs as he began to look around, big warm eyes looking up at Aang’s suggestion. Not that the clouds were much to look at.

All day, they had been shrouded by an endless overcast as they trekked the perilous terrain of the Earth Kingdom’s western mountains. Incline, decline, a brief plateau of respite, if they were lucky, then back to the scaling again. Rocks slide beneath their feet, and many soldiers had fallen over. The accumulation of grazes and bruises unrelated to any form of warfare or training was astounding. Katara sported a few of her own to match the slowly scarring slice down her forearm. Blisters were inevitable and constant, more painful to try treat than to push through the pain and continue. But it was midday (impossible to tell through the copious grey above their heads, Katara had thought ruefully) and He-Who-She-Could-Not-Name-Without-Wanting-To-Feed-His-Stupid-Face-To-Polar-Bear-Dogs had called for a lunch break. Well… lunch for those who could stomach it, and weren’t actively resisting the urge to hurl nothing but bile and their own frustration into the nearest shrub.

“I’m this close to passing out,” Gengsu groaned beside the unhitched cart. Sweat was beading along his forehead, collecting in his closely-cropped dark hair. “Seriously… Now would be a great time for airbending to just… manifest itself into my chi. Could just… air-catapult myself over the rest of this hill. Hey, Aang?”

The lemur immediately perked up. It was nice to see him interact with someone who so integrally understood his culture. Oddly cathartic. “Yeah, Gengsu?”

“Reckon you could spiritbend me some airbending powers?”

Katara glanced up from her task to offer him a gentle smile. “I’m not sure about the logistics of that.”

“Neither. I don’t know. Cool in theory, I guess.”

“Enviable in theory,” Katara hummed.

After Tom-Tom (and Zuko, but his own identity deemed his approval less than necessary), Gengsu had been the first to truly show Katara that she was right, and her gender had nothing to do with her capabilities as a soldier. In true Air Nomad fashion, he had simply shrugged, shifting on the balls of his feet as he explained his nonchalance.

“I’ve honestly not met too many women.”

“You… Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, we didn’t have any women at the Northern Air Temple—they’re all at Western and Eastern ones—but the monks always told us incredible stories about our sisters. Yangchen was my idol when I was younger. I don’t get why the other guys are acting like this… You’re still you.”

“Gengsu…”

“Hm? Wait, no, Katara, I’m sorry, please don’t cry—”

As for the others… it was a slow process…

Chit Sang, after some verbalised rationalising that he’d made Katara audience to, had come to a similar conclusion—though was not still without the odd remark or two that ruffled her in the slightest fashion; “My sister wished to be a warrior like yourself when she was younger. Of course, my father was reluctant to adhere to the support of such a notion, as was I… Not to say I didn’t believe she was capable! No, no. Her screech alone could scare an army back across the ocean. Oh, is—sorry, I meant nothing by the word choice of ‘screech’, I just… Oh, would you look at that, Tom-Tom is once again struggling to hitch his tent, allow me to just…”

Haru was… Haru. He was polite enough. They would joke here and there over the mundane stuff they used to, flinging whetstones and oil at one another whilst tending to the weaponry. But then Katara would stretch her back, highlighting the curves of her unbound chest, and the earthbender would quietly, stiffly clear his throat, turning back to the swords and bows with a new set about his shoulders.

Katara forced herself to ignore the sting in her throat that followed.

And even then, it was still marginally better than the treatment of other soldiers… Leagues better.

She had to remind herself to ignore the aching rattle of her breathing where a foot had collided with her ribs before the molasses incident. The pain would go away in a few days; the bruising was starting to settle, she no longer winced whenever she stretched. And she was actively choosing to stay up into the early morning every night, mulling over ways to enact revenge, and possibly secure her tent from the inside.

“Oh, uh,” Gengsu broke her descent of thoughts, pointing to her hair, “you have a little…”

Katara frowned, fingers brushing over her shoulder-length hair until she found it and groaned. Peeling the matted lock away from the rest of it, she glared at the affronting clump of molasses locked and hardened within the dust-ridden hair. “This is just vile.”

A grimace turned on Gengsu’s gentle features. “Is that…”

“Thank La, no. No. Just—” she grunted, raking a knife through it, “—molasses.”

“Do… Should I know?”

“I don’t even know,” she scoffed wryly. “Just… The sooner we get to the front, the better. Everyone can worry about real problems then.”

“Mm,” he softly hummed, rubbing a thumb over his calloused palms. Katara could remember how soft they’d been when he first arrived.

Hers had been the same.

“Hey, uh… Katara?”

Glancing up from Banlu once more, she was met with the air acolyte’s downturned eyes, watching with a level of nervousness as he scuffed his boots along the ground. “Hm?”

“What’d you, um… what’d you think the Captain’s going to expect from us when we get to the Western Front?”

Katara’s hand stilled by her steed’s leg, a sudden tenseness locking her in place. She swallowed. “Uh… Well, everything’s he’s sort of been telling us since the beginning, I guess.” Her voice was low, controlled, foreign. “Loyalty to each other, to the United Forces, to our homelands. At whatever cost.”

Ironic.

Gengsu glanced up before bowing his head. “Right, right, yeah…”

Sensing the wavering ellipsis, Katara lidded the salve, passing a quick scratch behind Aang’s ears, then walked over to her friend. “You know… It’s okay to be scared. This is some terrifying business we’re involved in. A lot of us—most of us—have never done something like this. I know I haven’t. You’re not the only one to be apprehensive of what’s to come.”

“It’s not… It’s not that. It’s more than that.”

“What is it, then?”

His mouth paused on unspoken words, stuttering before shutting closed with a grind of his jaw. His hand came up to his chest, scratching at his solar plexus. “At the Northern Air Temple, we’re taught that violence should never be the answer, that we must avoid killing or harming any living thing. I’ve lived by that for twenty years… When we reach the front, I’m… I’m not sure if… i-if I’ll—”

“Hey,” Katara leapt to cut him off, seeing the panic cross his face and wanting to erase it before it had the chance to settle, “hey… just breathe, yeah? We’re not there yet. Still a couple of weeks out.” Only a couple of weeks out. “We’re in a war, Gengsu… We’re all in the same boat, tyring to reconcile who we know we are and who we have to become for the sake of the world. I’m not about to jump up and say everything’s smooth sailing, because it’s not. None of this is. But we have each other’s backs, and no one is going to think less of you for what you have to do for survival, alright? Yours, the battalions… All four nations.”

Gengsu met her eyes then, big grey orbs sparkling with anxiety as they flickered between her own. His eyes dart as Katara felt a weight settle on her shoulder, and they glanced up to see Aang, eerily sombre, as he gazed at Gengsu. He didn’t speak a word, didn’t let out a single utterance; simply curled his tail around to graze his shoulder.

Some impenetrable understanding passed between the two, and when Gengsu finally looked at Katara again, it was with a heartbreak born premature. “And what if I think less of myself for it?”

And to that, Katara didn’t have an answer.


Six nights passed, and with each one came a renewed sense of… dread? Anticipation? Some discombobulated mixture of the two? Katara couldn’t put an exact name to the feeling that clawed beneath her skin, ate her insides as she walked on stiff feet and joints, a plague in her mind that withheld her from sleep. It rattled her, which was saying something in comparison to what she had been through over the past few months. She scratched absentmindedly at her arm.

The black blanket of night laid over her, sprinklings of constellations blinking at her from the furthest reaches of their reality. Minding her arm, Katara cradled her knees to her chest, head falling on the bridge of her arms. This war, her identity as a female soldier within it, felt like everything, and just so unconquerably large, but looking up at the stars, the rest of the battalion dead asleep, and everything had never felt so small. So insignificant.

All week, Gengsu’s words had stayed incorrigibly in her mind—What if I think less of myself for it? The words of self-deprecation were infectious, and very soon, Katara too had found herself locked in reflection, unable to escape as the chasm grew wider and deeper.

Four months since she had left home, and as she gazed upon her reflection, she scarcely recognised the person she saw before her. Of course, her physicality had morphed to become tougher, harder, difficult to impenetrate, but what she had slowly realised was how that same outer shell had hardened her within, too. She still cared—she knew that—but she was so much more cautious, testing the waters everywhere before she dared tried to bend them. Frown lines echoed in her head like a pulsing reminder that she could barely trust herself, let alone anyone around her. And yet still, nothing terrified her more than the thought of letting them down. Nightmares shook her from her slumber, images of snarling smiles, broken bodies and phantom pain that echoed across her arm, shoulder, chest. Cold sweats were more common than not, and nothing that could attributed to illness.

And this was before she’d had an actual taste of war.

Who would be left in her stead after battle, after losing friends, slaughtering Ozai’s soldiers, failing to save civilians, or, she hated her brain for even suggesting the traumatising notion, even losing the war? How would that transform her? Would she be able to look that person in the eye?

The fact that she already knew the hesitation to kill many, many of Ozai’s men was non-existent alone was enough to stir the pool of dread within her stomach.

Katara had always been a dreamer, an optimist. She believed in people, in herself, wanted to see the best in all that there was and all that there could be. Sokka has always scoffed at her stories of Avatars and spirits bringing peace, acknowledging from a very early age that anything that had been accomplished in the world was through hard work, or mere accident. Katara had always brushed it off as his pessimistic outlook on life.

But perhaps it wasn’t pessimism that guided her older brother’s decisions through life. Perhaps it was realism. Perhaps all along, Sokka had never meant to bring Katara’s happiness down, but to instead remind her that dreams were things born of the imagination for a reason. Perhaps he’d been trying to prepare her for the ultimately disappointing reality of growing up and realising that spirits aren’t omnipotent, benevolent beings, Avatars can’t always save the day, and dreams rarely leaves the binds of imagination.

She was so small, and the world was full of problems so much larger than her, in an even bigger universe that just didn’t seem to care. And she was just one girl.

“Fuck…”

Her head fell back onto the ground with a soft thunk, fingers dancing across her ribcage as her eyes connected the dots of the sky. The weather was cooling, both in time and location, and soft goosebumps began to prickle along her arms.

Soft footsteps crunched against the leaves behind her, and Katara raised herself onto her elbows to gaze over her shoulder. A sigh left her mouth. Of course…

“Oh. It’s you.” Zuko stopped short, robe clinging across his torso. At least this time he wasn’t shirtless…

“Yeah, it’s me.” Katara lifted a brow at him.

“What’re you doing up?” He looked nervous, conflicted as to whether or not he was permitted to scold her.

Katara quietly smirked at that. At least she made him feel a fraction of the discomfort she felt whenever in his presence.

Still, he persevered through, somehow finding an ounce of the authority he used to address the rest of the troops. “We have an early start tomorrow. It’s best you get some proper rest.”

Normally, Katara wouldn’t hesitate to bite back. Hard. Zuko was everything she hated about the Fire Nation, with a side serving of his own particular quirks that managed to dig under her skin. The fact that she maintained a relatively calm disposition with him in front of everyone else was admirable, in her eyes. Every order, every word, every look thrown in her direction, it became this insufferable urge to throw a torrent of water at his chest and ice him to a tree.

Right now, the reality of her existence was too heavy a weight on her shoulders, however, too indomitable and persistent to simply ignore. So, she merely shrugged, fingers rubbing the fabric of her tunic between her fingers.

For a moment, silence lingered around like the cloak of black above them. Then the air shifted, and she glanced out her periphery to see Zuko take a tentative seat beside her, arm resting on his propped knee as he leaned back on his other hand. A brave move, Katara recognised as she supressed a snort.

His head tilted back, eyes open and blinking at the night sky above. The ridges and planes of his face were highlighted in shadows, tiny rivulets forming in the contortions of his scar. The amber of his eyes took on a deep brownish hue in the midnight air, flecks of light from the stars still capturing their golden essence.

Huh… now that she thought about it, eyes squinting to picture him thrown back into his element of the glaring sunlight, they were more gold than amber. Light, shimmering, glowing prettily in the luminescence of these constellations she still didn’t fully understand. She’d never realised.

‘Pretty… wait a minute, hold the fuck up—’

“Sorry for disturbing you.”

She scoffed, softly in the thundering quiet surrounding them, eyes turning once more to the sky above. “And yet you’re still here.”

“There’s been reportings of increased violence in these hills,” he said, the voice of command flowing back to him like a wave. “Pillagers, raiders, anyone looking to make a quick cash grab amid the uncertainty of this war. I don’t want anyone wandering too far from camp unaccompanied.”

“Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” She glanced over at him, eyebrows wiry. “Besides, pretty sure I’m not the only seeking some peace at this time of night. Denki and Zhangwei were sneaking out after dinner. Tui knows what could happen to them out there, they’ve been gone hours,” she whispered with a surreptitious smirk, delighting in how quickly Zuko turned away to clear his throat. “Why don’t you go check on them instead?”

Zuko, cheeks visibly rouge even in the subtle moonlight, let out a low hum. “Yeah… I’d rather not be scarred for life. Again.”

Katara snorted.

Her eyes fell open wide, hand slapped over her mouth. No. She hadn’t meant to react to that. It wasn’t even funny. Just sad, really. So sad, pitiful. Yeah, pitiful, redirected to anger. That was what she felt when looking at him. Nothing infinitely close to humour, nope.

Oh no, Zuko was looking at her now, a curious glint in those dark golden eyes. “Did…” Shit, fuck, fuck, nope, “Did you just… laugh?”

Clearing her face of all horror and humour and any kind of emotion other than quiet distaste, she rolled her eyes, focusing back on the collection of glimmering lights above she thought belonged to something called The Badgermole’s Claw. “No. I snorted. Big difference.”

“But it was still out of humour. To something I said.”

Sweet Tui and La, she wasn’t even looking at him but she could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. “As if. Are your ears okay? Might’ve been subject to one too many cannons.”

“I know what I heard.”

“Oh, do you now? You know for a fact? You’d bet your life on it?”

“I’ve already bet my life on a lot of things. I feel pretty assured about this.”

She loathed to feel the upward tug of her lips, but helplessly felt it echoing back onto her cheeks, building stronger and stronger with each exchange of banter. It was nice… in a way that made her forget about the weight of the war, the hopelessness surrounding it, the impossibilities of everything she wanted to be true.

Made her forget about why she was angry with him in the first place.

They continued until Katara felt a different kind of weight settling over her, pressing down on her limbs and eyelids. Her words wove together, sometimes half-formed from her mind, and she felt her mouth stretch open in a yawn, breathing in the musky, cool air that flowed straight to her chest, making her shiver in on herself.

“You’re… certain that you’re not tired?” Zuko’s voice sounded beside her, miles away from her conscious mind, sounding soft and gentle. Weird.

“Mm-mm, wide awake,” she hummed, shaking her head lightly as she closed her eyes to the stars above. Her head was spinning languidly like she had downed a full keg of rice wine. With perhaps some sake. Or soju. “Gotta stay up…”

“You also have to be up in about five hours.”

“Mm, don’t care.” She sighed, a breeze sending a ripple of shivers across her body. “Stayin’ awake.”

“Why?”

“Nigh’mares can’t come’f you stay awake.” She chuckled once, legs curling around. “See? ‘M smart with this kinda stuff.”

Silence followed for a beat, and Katara wondered whether Zuko had finally relented into granting her some peace of mind and space. But then, a gentle brush across her forehead, featherlight and tender, like if the pressure was too much, the moment would shatter. An even softer voice admitted after it, “Crazy smart.”

The touch had felt nice, soothing to her pounding head, so she leaned toward it, seeking it out once more. Thankfully, it returned, dancing across her hairline and temple, drawing a soft hum from her lips. And it was warm. So, so warm, like the fires that kept her village alive in the darkest months of winter. Only then did she realise how truly frigid she was.

“‘M cold, Zuko.”

“Yeah?” The soothing touch continued into her hair, combing it back across her face. “I am, too. Why don’t we go and get some blankets?”

“Y’re a firebender,” she stated in a murmur, nestling her head further into the gentle ministrations. “Just make it warm, idiot.”

A low, rumbling chuckle echoed above her. “What’d you want me to do? Drag out the sun like I’m Agni or something?”

“I dunno.”

Something equally soft and warm settled onto her shoulder, rubbing in the same soothing as her hair. “Come on,” Zuko whispered, ground and pebbles rustling behind his voice, “I’m too cold to even make a fire. I need you to help me with the blankets.”

“Of course, you do,” she grunted, blinding rising to a stand as some gentle force pressed behind her back. Was the wind helping her walk? That was cool. Very considerate of it.

“Come on, let’s go get those blankets.”

Katara didn’t open her eyes once on the way back to camp; eyes, limbs, everything too lethargic to even be bothered. Eventually, she found herself being lowered onto a soft and enticingly warm foundation. She felt as though her entire body sank into the cushioning, and a small moan hummed at the back of her throat.

As sleep came to capture her in its warm embrace, she briefly wondered if Zuko had ever found the blankets he’d been looking for.


“Once this Spirit-forsaken war is over, I am going home for a four-month nap and then never walking again,” Gengsu grumbled beside her, pain etched into his face as they continued up the winding slope, forest surrounding them.

Ahead came the disgruntled grunt of Haru. “You got that right.”

Katara could only hum in quiet agreement, fingers gripping into Banlu thicket of a mane; her only tether to anything beyond the mind-numbing task of walking and the fatigue that nagged at her bones. After somehow ending up back in her own tent after falling asleep under the stars, she’d had the most gloriously boring three hours of sleep. No nightmares, no cold sweats, just an overwhelming calm she hadn’t felt in months.

It had been jarring to have that so horrifically shattered this morning, to say the least…

“Sokka!” a round-cheeked Katara, hair loopies battering in the wind as she ran through the snow, shouted to her brother leagues ahead. “Slow down!”

“Come on, Katara!” He grinned over his shoulder, semi-toothless grin making her pout even more.

“Stop, you’re too fast! It’s not fair!”

“You’re just too slow!”

“I’m littler!”

“So? Atuk is even more littler than you and he can still keep up!”

Katara could feel the emotion building in the back of her throat, but then before a single tear could fall onto her wind-bitten cheeks, Sokka came to a stop, jogging back through the tundra to stand by his sister.

Petulant and stubborn as ever, Katara looked away, bottom lip jutting out as her arms crossed over her thick parka. She stayed steadfast as Sokka tilted his head, mimicking the very snow leopard caribou they’d been chasing earlier. “Tara.”

Her brows furrowed, lip became more severe.

“Tara~” he cooed, hand itching up her arm.

“Go away, Sokka.” she grumbled, resisting the urge to squirm.

“You look like you’re gonna laugh. You’re not allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing!” she bit back at his stupid grin. He was so stupid. So stupid and annoying.

“I think you are, Tara. ‘Cause I’m the funniest, bestest older brother and you know it.”

“No. You’re annoying and stupid.” The scowl on her face was starting to hurt. “And mean.”

“Hey! Actually, I’m gonna ignore that, because I am the bestest older brother. And do mean older brothers give their grouchy little sisters polar bear dog hugs?”

“Sokka, no—!” Katara broke off in a squeal as Sokka squished her to him, spinning her around. “Let me go!”

“Not until you say that I’m the funniest, bestest older brother!”

“Never!” she giggled out into the wind as it whipped around her.

“Come on, say it!”

“No!”

His big blue eyes stared down at her, crinkled at the edges. “You know you love me, Tara~!”

I told you to go away!”

She had suddenly hurtled to the ground, head snapping forward as ice slammed over her body. A gasp tore from her throat, chest heaving as she struggled to grasp her bearings, gripping at the thin blanket above her and the futon, blinking blindly around the dark tent.

Hands grabbed at her, held her down, one forcibly under her chin that tilted her head back. She didn’t even have time to panic as a piercingly cold and wet cloth was draped over her face.

“Gimme the water,” a gruff voice had called above her.

Katara hadn’t been able to see beyond the cloth much more than muffled shapes and shadows, but she couldn’t even think to care anymore when suddenly water was being doused over the cloth, and it was everywhere on her, in her, inescapable. She'd tried to breathe out, but then breathed in and was suddenly leagues underwater, the surface hopelessly beyond her reach. She had thrashed around under the tight grip pinning her limbs, screaming muffled in a desperate plea for someone to care and help her.

She was in her tent, still in Zuko’s battalion; she’d connected that much, and yet somehow, she was drowning.

“Go back home, you treacherous whore. You don’t belong here.”

As quickly as it had begun, it dissonantly stopped. She bolted upright as soon as the hands left her, ripping the cloth off her face as she sucked in wheezing, painful breaths. Her tent flap shifted, shapes disappearing into the slowly rising sun. Whoever had just been in there with her. She had coughed, body shaking so violently it hurt, and pressed a hand to her chest, willing it to just fucking still so she could heal the awful pain around her lungs.

Hours later, and Katara had done her best to simply shrug the incident off. She hadn’t fallen back to sleep; Tui knows that was already a colossal feat without this morning’s… incident. Instead, she had checked on Banlu and Aang, curled up together by the tree the dragon moose was tied to, then meditated.

Tried to, at least.

Katara pitched forward suddenly, eyes bolting open as she regained her footing.

“Woah, you okay there, Katara?” Tom-Tom, ever the sweetheart, perked up beside her.

“Fine.” She offered a small smile hoping it was reassuring. As she shook her head, she looked up, gaze widening as it was suddenly held by golden eyes far ahead, attached to a partially scarred face as Zuko pivoted around in the saddle. The sudden intensity nearly sent her for another dizzy spell, and she glanced away quickly. “Just tired.”

Chit Sang, lugging several bags upon his wideset shoulders, grumbled. “You really need to take better care of your health. You can’t be expected to fight at your peak if you ain’t rested, chum.”

She nodded, fingers gripping tighter to Banlu, ignoring Aang’s worried glance in her periphery. All sounded splendid in theory.

“Someone else looks a bit tired. Or should I say… someones?” Gengsu lifted salacious brows. “Take a look at that.”

Their small group glanced ahead, small oos and giggles ebbing out as they all connected with Gengsu’s line of vision. Denki and Zhangwei walked ahead of them, side by side, knuckles brushing as their arms swung. The former, tall and lanky, was evidently struggling to keep himself up. Zhangwei soon rested a hand at the small of his back, looking up at him with fond concern as he drew patterns on the Fire native’s shirt. Subtle, but so telling in ways Katara was certain they weren’t aware of.

Chit Sang’s eyes widened. “Well… damn.”

“Get it, I guess,” Tom-Tom said, his scandalous grin not matching the nonchalance of his words.

“Oh, stop it,” Katara poked the teenage boy. “They’re cute, leave them be. Good on them for finding each other in this stupid war.”

“How about we just stop talking about them?”

“What?” Katara looked to Haru, who still advanced slightly ahead of them, head resolutely forward. “I-I mean, yeah, I don’t really want to gossip—”

“Actually, how about we just not talk about this kind of stuff? Don’t ask, don’t tell, just…” She could hear the grit in his voice, “focus on your own shit. Don’t get involved in other people’s.”

Gengsu looked to Katara, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Sorry… I guess a lot of places still aren’t cool with that sort of thing—”

“Somethings are just better to stay hidden, okay?” Green eyes flickered to Katara. “Better for everyone.”

Katara drew back in a grimace. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t elaborate; simply sighed, turned back.

“No, you don’t just make a passive aggressive comment like then and then walk out of the conversation. Chit Sang, hold my dragon moose for me.” She marched ahead as soon as the burly man had a secure hand on Banlu, reaching Haru with a frown in place. “If you’ve got a problem with them, or with me, just say it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you refuse to look me in the eye more often than not.”

“Just drop it.”

“Are you seriously that close-minded? I thought you were pretty cool, but here you are, giving me the cold shoulder the second you remember I’m a woman, like it’s my defining character trait or fatal flaw or some bullshit.”

She didn’t miss the way he tensed. “I’m trying to be polite right now, so just please go back.”

“No. I’m not doing this. I put up with this kind of coldness from everyone but you guys. I’m not putting up with it with you. We were good friends before this, so you need to be transparent with me and tell me what on earth is going on.”

“Transparent,” he chuckled, low and scathing. “Real funny.”

Something tore at her stomach at the cold disregard of his tone, and Katara prepared herself for a vicious rebuttal.

“What is that…”

A slow murmur arose among the battalion, pace shortening as Zuko raised a hand to hold position at the front of the convoy. Katara looked up through the line of trees, eyes scanning up to the mid-afternoon heavens.

Smoke. A yellow tinge to the sky. An acrid stench that burrowed into her senses. A faint, yet hollowing, harrowing cry that seemed to come from the universe itself.

Katara swallowed a thick, bitter clump in her throat, Haru’s own body hesitating beside her. They weren’t due to arrive at the Western Front for another week, but it seemed not to matter to any person or spirit alike what time they had allotted to prepare for the horror that impended on their small battalion.

The war had come to meet them.

Notes:

:) we're in the endgame now :)

well nearly. but uh. shit is gonna escalate very quickly from here. angst train full steam ahead CHOO MF CHOOOO
zuko when he saw katara was hurt: "hey siri, play ugh! by bts. finna become a misandrist"

hope youre all staying safe, healthy, and happy !!

NEXT CHAPTER: the battalion advances into the war >:))