Not Too Far from the Yew Tree (an ATLA fanfiction)

The Edge of Snow and Water

"They're not even using lights. Look, it's completely dark in the settlement."

"There's nothing out here they want to see." The older man sneezed—he'd had a runny nose since they entered the polar circle. "Frankly, I don't want to see anything here either. I prefer warmer climates for our destinations, Nephew. Dinner will be ready soon."

"I'll be down soon," he replied. "It's so cold that it hurts to breathe." Before the older man could head downstairs, the ship lurched with a stomach-sinking metallic screech, and the slope of the deck was left at an unpleasantly steep angle. Zuko grabbed the railing reflexively, but his uncle had stumbled backwards and fallen with a loud 'Oof!' "What's happening? We were anchored. Did something hit us?"

"It would have had to been massive and moving fast to cause this." Already there was a panic inside the ship as the crew scrambled to action.

Zuko leaned over the railing and peered down into the darkness. Unable to make out anything concrete, he flinched as the ship took another hit which left the deck at a twenty degree angle. Crewmembers skid into the walls. Feeling the heat building within himself, with one hand hanging onto the rail for stability Zuko shot down multiple bursts of fire to light the surrounding area. In each flash he caught a second's length of clear vision. Squatting low in the water a short distance from their vessel were two figures in a wood-and-canvas canoe. Others had witnessed it and were organizing a response. As the frontal figure swept their arms up and made a pushing motion, another wave of seawater slammed against the ship, the angle inclined yet further, and the metal sounded like it was tearing apart as the water solidified to ice. Iroh tumbled to the far railing and the response of the crew was impeded, but Zuko was fit to send a swipe of fire at the assailants. He was awarded with terrified screams, but, as he tried to find a better position to counter from, another wave, this much more violent, struck the hull and sent the ship to a critical angle. "Fuck!"

Others had responded and were returning fire while the internal crew were a panicked deployment. Struggling across to the ladder, Zuko paused when he heard his uncle's voice. "The fuel tanks!" A heavy petrol scent tainted the air, and a momentary realization was all he was afforded before the responding soldiers sent another round of firebursts.

It seemed like the entire sea rose up into a wall of fire that was blinding, blistering-hot, and all consuming. In the inferno he heard the attackers on the canoe shouting to each other and making evasive maneuvers—for good reason, because while the steel ship could survive until the petrol burned off, the canoe was a tinderbox. He shoved off the wall and scrambled to the railing again, half pulling himself up, and watched the canoe at the edge of the immolation take flame. The waterbender tended it as fast as they could, but the thin, fragile boat wouldn't remain shiptight after even that much damage. As the inferno melted the ice the ship crashed down a level, slamming everyone to the ground. The fuel continued pouring out into the seawater and flames raced across the channel. Once more another shelf of the attacker's ice weakened until the weight of the ship broke it down, then again a minute later. At that point the ship was level and free-floating again and Zuko, standing to concentrate, extinguished the flames in their perimeter, leaving the ship solely spared as the oil ignited across a spreading ring and demolished the area. The ice shelf the village was perched on split with a long, deep gash up to their defensive walls and he heard the villagers screaming and abandoning their shelters to take refuge further inland. Petrol splashed against the banks and melted into the glacier at a troubling rate, burning the ice covering down to bare barren earth.

As the engineers patched the fuel tank to cut the flow off, Zuko looked out into the jumble of ice and flame, wondering about the fate of the attackers.