𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔

Chapter 8

After they returned to Kotzut from the failed mission—where Yuhao had died instead of being captured—Katara slept.

She slept and slept and occasionally woke up to eat, piss, and reassure her patrol that she really was okay.

"The first mission's always hard. You'll get used to it," said Faozu, eyes intent on the letter he was writing home.

"Are you sure you don't want to go into the city with us?" asked Qin. When she replied no, knowing they would only be there to drink, he shrugged and said, "Your loss."

Hiro looked at her sympathetically before leaving with Qin and said, "I'll bring something back for you if you want me to."

She just smiled, shook her head no, and burrowed back under her blanket.

It seemed that it was a tradition for Faozu to write to his family in the south after every mission he came back from. He said it was to tell them that he was still alive and alright, so they wouldn't worry overmuch. She wondered what he wrote. Did he tell them about the rebels he'd killed? Did he talk about death at all? Maybe he kept them ignorant of what he really did and just wrote about the weather.

Qin, she knew, dealt with missions by drinking. He'd come back to barracks the night after they'd returned from Romu Province dead drunk and supported by Hiro, who was semi-intoxicated himself. They always brought the sour smell of alcohol with them, which permeated the air in the bunks until Katara enveloped herself in the musty comfort of her pillow. There were no rules against Elite soldiers getting drunk on their off-time. As long as they were sober and sharp and ready during missions, commanders didn't care what soldiers did during free time.

Katara supposed she could see what Qin and Hiro found so attractive in drinking themselves into a stupor. The hazy indifference that came with intoxication and the deep, utterly dreamless sleep that followed must have been heaven after the blood and gore of death. To be able to drink away your cares and your nightmares in one bottle didn't sound so bad.

But it sounded too much like an addiction to her. Katara preferred to deal with her own demons without the aid of a drink. She might have horrible nightmares of bloody white faces or lie awake at night unable to get the image of a dead Emperor out of her mind, but at least she knew that these things were relevant worries, things that meant she was human and had emotions and morals and worries.

Still, sometimes she listened to the drunk mumblings of Qin, how he was so far away from the real world that nothing could get to him, and wished she could do the same.

Katara slept.

Patrol One went through a few more missions—most of them successful—that passed in a flurry of traveling and fighting and killing. After the first, the Emperor Zuko no long came with them. Lt. Ensei said he had some pressing business to attend to.
However, soon enough, Kithara's fifth mission with the Elites rolled around, and this time, the Emperor came with them. She supposed it was a bit more important than other missions; they were rescuing a noble who had been captured on the far western edge of the Fire Nation. Perhaps this required the Emperor's personal attention.

So far, it was definitely the most taxing and strenuous mission she'd ever done. For one, they walked this time. No horses, for the area they were trekking through was mountainous and rocky, unsuited to horse hooves. In Katara's opinion, it was just as unsuited to human feet.

"Once we cross the Two Rivers, we'll be able to requisition some mounts from the nearest town," reassured Qin.

Katara just slogged on. It was a two-day march to the first river, the smaller one in the pair that snaked across the western edge of the Fire Nation, two dividing lines between the smoother planes of the far west and the higher mountainous ground of the east.