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

Silk

By Azula's machinations, in three days the entire fleet was assembled and entering the waterspace of the city of Gao Ling through the long bay. Traffic had already been interrupted and it was a matter of less than an hour before the city would become aware of its own imminent destruction. Zuko, on his own ship following after the mighty, peerless fleet of Zhao, stared absentmindedly at the quiet outskirts, green and well managed, which had not one defensive structure developed despite its relative proximity to the enemy state. Zhao's fleet had come fully prepared for a complete invasion, not merely a quick raid, and he knew the man was itching to gain another accomplishment on his military career's belt. In the past decade they hadn't had a large operation since the siege of Ba Sing Se. His uncle looked worried, and he felt a degree of his pain. The last display of violence cost him his son; the event prompted him to undergo a rapid personality shift into the pacifistic lazy tea-lover he was mocked as. Now, despite being retired, he was in such a situation again because of Zuko, though his uncle would never say so.

With events locked in motion it was already out of Zuko's hands to have stopped anything. He didn't trust Zhao, and certainly didn't trust Azula. He remembered the pain of his last great mistake, forever branded onto his face, and wondered what injury this one would cost him. With the same trepidation he'd had going into that Agni Kai so he felt at present.

Zuko left briefly, while he still had a moment to spare for his own foibles, and went to the hold to visit the air bison. He left his helmet and armor—which terrified the animal—in the corridor and threw on the grey tunic before entering. The salve had been applied by his own hand just a few hours ago and would last until morning. His health was improving, but he wondered what was the point of having gone through the trouble of capturing the animal after all. His original inkling of a ploy involving it had been swallowed by Azula, and now it served no purpose except to place the already wounded and traumatized beast under additional burden, trapped in a metal box that was about to enter battle. It had begun to trust him, as he was the only one able to brave the threat of its horns to apply the medicine it had come to long for. Soon it would be well again, though its fur would always be marred with the craters of scartissue that prevented fur regrowth. If it ever found its way back to its true owner, that airbender would come to see what its terms of treatment had been like under care of the Fire Nation, and he felt a tinge of shame. It, of course, had no understanding of the circumstances that had caused its injuries, nor that Zuko was solely responsible for them.

The saddle had been left aside and not moved since taking the animal aboard. Curious, he went to look it over. It was heavy, sturdy, and elaborate. The craftsman put painstaking care into its creation, and for the thickness of the leather it must have been a struggle to push the needle through each stitch of the seams. The handholds, as cut-outs in the sides, were thoughtful to the comfort of the riders, and he could imagine how it must be to travel in such a fashion. It was large enough to seat six or so people comfortably. As Zuko was toying with it, the bison showed interest. He wondered if he wanted it on. Dragging it over and finding he was just able to lift it well enough for the bison to assist him in shrugging it over his back, he made adjustments and figured out how the fashionings worked. It was a more pleasant subject to occupy his mind than the imminent battle, and the bison seemed to enjoy having it back on, perhaps because it was reminiscent of the owner and its previous life. He finished securing the straps into their brass fastenings. Testing it, he stepped up and balanced on the saddle-encased back of the air bison, finding it a further distance to the ground than seating on the komodo rhino, but wide and stable.

He entertained setting the air bison free like that, sparing it the hardship of enduring the battle, but there was no easy way to effect it even if he wanted. He'd have to shuffle the bison past the rhinos, no easy task, and would bring a battle to his own hold between them. There was a screen made of canvas and bamboo framing thrown up between the two groups, and the bison, though he could smell and hear the rhinos, felt secure enough to relax only because he could not see them. If he wasn't already considered a traitor, freeing the pet of the Avatar for no necessity would put more blade to his neck than Azula could save him from. Seated on the saddle, he listened and waited, thinking their motion had stopped at last, which meant they were lined up outside the city's port and battle would begin in just a few minutes.