FicWad

((Disclaimer: I OWN THIS SHOW! Hahahahahaha- - is struck down by lightning))

Wave after wave of flames broke over the Avatar's wind shields. Flecks of the heat scattered in the air, and soon petals of it twisted downwards in a shower. Katara gulped down as much air as she could find in the atmosphere, trying to soothe her aching throat. Should she help Aang? She had neither her waterskin nor her bending abilities under these conditions, and therefore would have to rely on her throbbing legs and arms to fight with. Those limbs, lacerated and gored beyond most functions, could they withstand such an awesome quest?

On the other hand, the Avatar was being beaten into the dirt by the banished prince's feral onslaught.

Forcing more searing air into her lungs, Katara took a shaky step forward. Her sudden fatigue frightened her. Perhaps the waterbender's powers had simply evaporated in the blaze; or maybe it was because of whom she was about to save. Somewhere in her mind, a small voice was scratching at her, reminding her of the events that had recently transpired in the festival, the ones that had driven her torture. Did she honestly want to go to the trouble to help him, when he would just thank her and then flutter back to his precious Toph?

'Toph...I wonder where she is....' A particularly nasty curtain of flame sliced across the ground towards Aang. The monk, his eyes dulling and lips ripped open with ragged breathing, wiped his arms roughly against the attack, parting it to either side of him. A weary smirk unfolded over his lips, and yet this only increased the dread in Katara's soul, for she could not recall the Avatar ever being so feeble against any given opponent. And yet there he crouched, arms stretched out meekly before him as a pregnable line of defense.

"Well, Avatar," Katara blinked at the sound, and tore her eyes away from her friend and to the antagonist, who was currently advancing towards Aang. "It seems as if your little struggle is almost over." One of his fists, engulfed in a crimson blossom, extended behind him as he slid his stance wider. Nebulous determination manifested on Aang's face in the form of a shallow grimace, and Katara watched the muscles in his forearms tighten as he tensed his whole being.

'I have to do something!' The words beat like a frantic pulse in Katara's ears, and she forced herself completely onto her feet. 'There's no way Aang can withstand another attack.' She had to, she just had to move forward, to do anything that would safeguard her companion.

'Then go.'

As the prince's fist began its devastating arc towards its prey, the waterbender's feet shredded the ground, and she gave a mighty leap. In her flight, a bellow of pure choler exploded from her lungs and rained over every person in the village; all turned, aghast, and watched as she collided right into the firebender's shoulder.

The pair tumbled across the scorched grounds, Katara atop Zuko. A blistering agony enflamed her shoulder where she had taken the brunt of the firebender's attack in order to redirect it from Aang. "Damn!" Zuko boomed as he thrashed beneath her. Every twitch or movement from him sent shocks of pain through her shoulder, but she was not about to relinquish this advantage she had over him. Biting her lip against the pain, Katara smothered the firebender with her body, focusing her weight distribution over his shoulders and thighs.

Being presented with this new development only fueled Zuko's writhing. The effects of both her shoulder wound and the lack of a decent amount of oxygen circulating in the thick air cracked the waterbender's vision. Whimpering against these hindrances, Katara flattened herself as completely as she could over him.

'I just need to hold out long enough for Aang to-'

And then she was thrown in the air, a cloud of flame embracing her torso, only to fall unceremoniously onto her back. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Living hurt. She groaned against the blinding pain, her head lolling across the dirt. Without observing the damages to her stomach, Katara craned her head to the side, trying to gather her bearings; her nerve endings screamed at this action, and she grimaced.

Aang was straightening himself up, an infuriated expression thundering through his eyes; however, his wrath was not of enough strength to stimulate his Avatar State. Through her bruised ears the waterbender could hear the crackle and roar of an inferno reinitiated as the firebenders resumed their workings.

"Filthy savage," the prince hissed. 'Peasant to savage,' she couldn't restrain the wry grin tugging at her lips, 'now that's an accomplishment.' "Guards, I want you to-" The air was split once more with a war cry, although this one resonated from the Avatar. Katara saw Aang strike his heel across the prince's jaw, and then her view was obscured as three cadaverous Fire Nation soldiers threw themselves unto her- or, more to the point, on the continental scorch mark on her stomach. Somehow they must have predicted their prince's need of restraining her.

Howling in pain, Katara kicked and bucked against their weight, but found that this only increased the level of her suffering. Now she could only wait for the clamor of the nearby scuffle to sift through her disjointed thoughts. And it did, eventually, once she was able to separate the voices of the Avatar and the Banished Prince from the apprehensive grunts of the soldiers above her. It was unclear who was predator and who was prey at what time during their brawl, and all Katara could do was fervently pray for Aang between flashes of agony.

Minutes inched by, the passage of time marked only by her muffled heartbeat and the arbitrary twitching and shifting of the firebenders atop her. The heat from her wounds had dulled to a lethargic throb, but all of her nerve endings were shot. Vaguely did she wonder how her companion was faring; most of her focus and will-power were directed towards her eyelids: stay up, open, don't close. 'I don't want to sleep,' she thought, noting how rubbery her limbs felt, 'I don't want to go back to the dark place. That monster from my nightmare might actually eat me up this time.... I can't move....' Her sight split and scattered then, her whole scope of vision waning and hazing.

With one last shred of consciousness, she made an attempt to stay focused by twisting her torso, but even the screaming pain couldn't reach her then, for the monster's claws were deep in her mind.

*********

((turns on fog machine)) (oh, and I realize that this dream sequence makes no sense, but, honestly, dreams don't always make sense. Think symbolism hinthint)

'Dear child, the lightning blossoms are swiftly wilting. Do us a favor and open your eyes.'

She acquiesced, her eyelids dragging open against some force. Blinding white scraped against her whole being, but she knew her eyes not to be taking in the world, for its landscape was flat and static.

'Hands,' purred a voice, close to her, inside her head.

'Part,' she responded, and a sudden brilliance dominated the world. Every pallid inch of it reared upwards in intensity, save for an ashy silhouette before her. Those hands belonged to the outline, and they dropped to its side.

'Did you bring it?' the silhouette questioned, and she looked about her. The atmosphere was composed of slashes of life and existence, each its own color, but all meshing into white.

'Did I bring it?'

'Beloved Echo, we haven't the time.' Although its form was invisible, she witnessed the figure turn sideways as if checking over its shoulder. 'Did you bring the Worldlyworth?'
'No,' she whispered, 'I didn't.'

'But you must have,' the figure insisted, 'they said you would, they said you were made of it.' At this, she felt something enclosing her hand, and a quick glance towards it showed her wrist to be tapering off into a snowy nothingness.

'I'm made of nothing, at least not enough.'

'Enough. Enough. You say now you have it? Brilliant.' She was jerked forward, and nearly fell to the ground. 'Careful, down is endless, but forward is near. Move your feet and reach the now. And quickly while you're at it.' Again she obeyed the pearlescent entity, and found the journey to be easily accomplished. 'Look, look. It's nearly dawn.' Before them, jutting upward from the empty world, was a gnarled tree, barren of leaves. Within the bark crawled vibrant colors that swirled and pulsed individually, and branches stuck out of every inch of it, and from every direction. Veins spiderwebbed across the trunk, and a moan of anguish creaked out of the branches.

'Dawn,' she murmured in reverence, extending a hand to brush across the tree. The pads of her fingertips dipped low into the pliable bark. A sharp hiss alerted her to her companion, who sucked in a terrified breath. Adrenaline surged through her and she drew her fingertip along the surface, leaving a gash in its wake. With every inch dug her companion would cry out, and with every cry, she felt her insides clench. It was nauseating, this overwhelming feeling of power that she felt as she harmed this tree. Half of her strained away from it, the Silhouette helping this notion by pulling her away, while the rest of her fought to continue on.

'Hurry, hurry,' the Silhouette urged through its sobs, 'Dawn is coming. Light is near.'

And then the end of the gash met the beginning, and she stumbled backwards into the Silhouette, who was wracked with tears and lamentations, stroking her hair in hysterics. 'Dawn,' she whispered, her eyes locked onto her drawing. It was a crude heart, one that was common to a child's doodling. After muttering her prayer a few more times, crimson began to sparkle at the edges of her drawing, then bead, then overflow. A second passed and then the speed of its blood flow quickened, until the entire front was covered in a vertical river. Streaks of midnight sullied it occasionally, but soon all color was drained into white gold.

There was a slight pressure on her shoulder. 'And so the explosion is born infantile,' her companion whispered in her ears. Warmth breath encased her ear and jaw line. 'Now die.' Her body fell limp into its arms, and then she was cleaved in two as she was shoved into the branches....

******

Her eyes snapped open as a particularly sharp jab of pain electrified her torso. Moaning, she rolled up into a sitting position, despite her wound.

"Prince Zuko," a deep voice resounded, "it's awake." Every inch of the waterbender tensed, her skin crawling. Her chin tipped up slowly in jerks, almost as if it was working on gears.

"Good," the man addressed drawled, "make sure it's tied up tight."

"Yes sir."

The banished prince of the Fire Nation was a few steps from her, smirking in an irritating way at her that made her want to pound him into oblivion. Burning fury intoxicated her mind, and she scrambled to her feet and made a jump for him. Shock blossomed on everyone's countenance, save for the prince, whose sneer must have been welded onto that pompous little face of his.

When she was spitting distance from him, something snagged her throat, and she was thrown backwards. Smacking her chest to the ground, Katara yelped in pain, and then began wheezing and sputtering. Sadistic laughter sounded in front of her, and she tilted her head up in time to see that twisted antagonist reveling in her discomfort. Glaring, Katara made another, softer, motion forward, and felt resistance. Attached to her neck was a length of rope tied up to a thick tree. She felt a wave of panic rise, and she struggled against her bindings.

"Stupid beast," Zuko said behind her, all traces of his laughter gone. "I don't see why you wanted to keep such an idiotic thing, Uncle."

'"Stupid beast"?!' thought the waterbender. '"Idiotic thing"?'

"Because," came another voice, "I don't think something so beautiful should be dealt with so roughly."

"It's just a filthy mutt," the prince retorted, "We should have killed it back at that shithouse village."

"Nephew!" Iroh snapped. This seemed to sober the prince up a bit, but not much.

"Still, we don't need extra baggage, and this beast's just going to slow us down." Katara jerked her head upwards towards the pair. The elder, Fire Nation General Iroh, was perched atop a rock, swirling a cup of tea in his hands. His eyes found hers, and an enigmatic smile lit his irises.

"It will be no problem to us," the graying firebender remarked, the grin traveling visibly into the crooks of his mouth, "and besides, just think of it as protection against anyone who would do us harm."

"Like there would actually be scum of any worth in the Earth Kingdom," Zuko said.

"Earthbenders are crafty," the old general said simply.

"Well, that's what guards are for, anyway."

"Oh, enough of your whining, Nephew," Iroh chuckled, sipping on his tea with a euphoric flourish, "I like it, and I want to keep it. You wouldn't deprive an old man of his wishes, would you?" There was a pause from the hotheaded prince, and, were Katara not in the situation she was, she would have laughed over the look on Zuko's face.

"Fine," the prince grumbled, before stalking away. Then he added as an afterthought. "I don't even see why you like that thing anyway."

"It reminds me of a poem I heard once," said Iroh softly to his nephew's retreating back. The soldiers busied themselves with various tasks, certain now that there wouldn't be any displays of pyrotechnics from their leaders.

'What was with all of the name calling?' Katara wondered. Her eyes widened. 'I wonder if.' Closing her eyes, the waterbender made a swipe across the ground, pulling a thin film of reflective water up. Without looking, she flattened it out and bid it to move up parallel to her face.

'Look.'

She opened her eyes and gazed into the makeshift mirror, which almost instantly crashed back onto the ground.
'It loomed over the rest of this twisted realm, silver shavings blanketing teal, leathery skin that was pinched in at the corners, and blank white eyes that stared unceasingly out at the pinpricks of fire. Its lips were pressed thinly across its muzzle.'

The dream beast, the one in the nightmare she had had while in Midori. It was her. She was it. A wolf fish, terrible and cold, armored in silver scales and wielding ivory fangs.

Not a human.

Not Katara.

Opening her mouth, she let loose a howl worthy of her visage. Iroh, a shaded mask sliding over his features, watched on, downing the last of his tea.