Freedom

Chapter 35: The Painted Spirits

Zuko reached into his pack and pulled out the familiar blue mask. He ran his fingers over the blue and white paint, feeling the wood underneath. It brought a smile on his face, remembering the good memories from his childhood, before his mother left.

But the problem with the good memories,

"My dear Zuko, if you mess with a mother turtle duck, she will bite back"

The bad ones follow.

"Dad's going to kill you!"

Both of the voices ran so clearly in his head, he shuddered at the thought.

He slipped the mask onto his face. It distorted his vision slightly but not enough where he couldn't see. When he walked back to where Katara waited for him, he saw how she paused for a moment, looking him up and down.

"Ready?" He whispered softly. She jerked her head and pulled the veil over his face.

Katara froze a piece of ice, giving them a raft to make it across the water. It wasn't very far, but neither of them would dare swim in the black water.

They hopped up onto the wooden ramp, being sure to make no sound. They weren't sure where to go first, but decided to head towards the town center, where they had their makeshift hospital.

The door creaked open and they stepped inside. Their hospital was nothing of the sort. Instead it was just a wide open room, where people laid in rows across the ground. Some were moaning in pain. Children were crying as mothers tried to desperately rock them to sleep.

An elderly man looked up at the noise and gasped aloud, "The Painted Lady..."

Zuko side glanced at Katara, hidden by his mask. Her disguise now made sense to him; her markings and hidden veil all resembled that of a Fire Nation spirit, one he had heard of before. He knew the tales of a woman with painting across her body that would heal the sick. Many people prayed to her on their deathbed, asking for healing. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time...

The old man walked to them and kneeled before them. Zuko saw how Katara squirmed in discomfort. She didn't want people worshiping her. She only wanted to help people.

"Are you here to save us?" He asked, his hands clasped in front of him in prayer.

Katara looked down upon him but did not respond. Instead, she held a finger to her lips, asking for silence. The man bowed his head graciously and walked back to where he was lying.

They started down the rows, healing those she could and leaving supplies for those she couldn't. Zuko stood by her side as she healed. He handed her medicines they had scrounged up and left food they had foraged next to the sleeping villagers. He stayed quiet and moved stealthily so he wouldn't cause much noise. Anytime someone looked towards them and went to praise them, Katara would hold a finger to her lips, asking for silence.

She turned to the next person and held in a gasp when she recognized the man and woman from that morning. The baby had grown sicker, his face showing a sickly green color. He slept, but not soundly, whimpering in his sleep. His breaths were ragged, as he forced the air out and in.

The mother looked up at her with tears in her eyes, silently begging for her help. Katara kneeled before them, holding her hands up. It was against her nature to touch a baby without the mother's permission. But instantly the mother shook her head yes, without a second thought.