I Am Not the Last Airbender {ON HOLD}

Chapter Sixteen

            I was so shocked that I woke up.  Sounds strange, I know, but it happened.  The sun had set and I woke up.  Voluntarily.  I wasn’t rudely awakened by someone screaming “RUN, JALIA, RUN!” or rough hands throwing me into a sack or even Dad showing up and lifting me up into the air.

            It was so weird.  I rolled out of my sleeping bag at my own leisure and tried running a hand through my half-braided, twice slept on hair.  Stretching as I stood, I attempted to get all of the kinks out that came with sleeping on the ground.  I was feeling better and well rested, but my burns and cuts still ached.  Barely a foot away, Macco still slept and I didn’t think it would be kind to wake him up.  His slumbering form moved up and down rhythmically, his breathing one of the few sounds in the night air.  Macco’s face was turned towards me; his shaggy hair cut all but hiding the mark on his face.  I felt choked up all over again at the sight of it.  But I couldn’t cry again.  I didn’t want to be upset anymore.  We had to move forward, not back.

            I walked over to Appa and our supplies, petting him absentmindedly as I picked out the flint stones from the mass.  (The poor boy didn’t even stir at my touch.)  Apparently, Macco had also saved some of the unused firewood from our last site.  I silently thanked him.  Finding my way over to a spot near our packs that looked good enough, I set down the wood and began setting up the fire.

            Attempting to create a flame, one of the stones didn’t seem to be working.  Maybe it was having a bad day.  I remembered that Macco had an extra stone in his pack and I meandered back over to get it.  I picked up Macco’s sack began rummaging through it for the stone.  Besides a few changes of clothes and necessities, Macco’s bag was mostly full of paper and ink.  Some of the papers had writing on them.  I pulled one out and looked at it.  It was definitely Macco’s handwriting.  The first line read:

            “Today we made it to the Fire Nation.  Firelord Zuko seems great and my new sword master is totally hot…”

            It was a journal.  Macco kept a journal?  I guess I should have expected it.  He seemed the type.  I put the paper back.  I shouldn’t have been reading it.  But…  I picked up another paper, you know, just to make sure that it was still a journal entry and not some important information, or something.

            “Today wasn’t great.  We arrived at Ember Island and at one point I tried to open up to Jay about some of the things I’ve been thinking about, but she got confused so I shut down again…”

            The words reminded me of our conversation.  It was something along the lines of:

            Me:  What are you thinking about?

            Macco:  I don’t really get why we’re here.

            Me:  On Ember Island?

            Macco:  No, like here.

            Me:  Huh?

            Macco:  Nevermind.

            It was strange and uncharacteristic of him and I didn’t like it.  But then I did something strange and uncharacteristic: I didn’t push for details.  I know.  HUGE leap.  But I had forgotten about that conversation until I read those words.

            Macco groaned and began rolling over towards me.

            Panicking, I threw the paper back in the bag and snatched up my canteen and standing up.

            “Hey, Jay,” he said with a smile.

            “Hey, you.  Get some rest?”

            “Yeah, you?”

            “Mhm.”

            “What are you doing?” he asked me.

            “Oh, I was just going to fill my canteen and then start the fire.  I already got it set up, but my burns were just killing me.  Want me to fill up your canteen, too?”

            “Yeah, that’d be great.  I’ll start the fire while you’re gone.”

            I grabbed our canteens headed west, the direction I felt the strongest pull and the probable river site.  Walking through the brush and trees, I began humming to myself.  The notes were smooth and soft, the way I liked it.  I couldn’t figure out what the song was or where it was from.  But then I remembered that it was a river song Mum would sing before bed when I was little.  I smiled thinking of those days.

            By then I could hear the river.  It was close, perhaps 20 feet away.  Pushing past some branches, the river was revealed to me.  It was clean and had a strong current.  That meant good drinking water.  But before I took a step forward, I looked to the other side of the riverbed where several dozen tents sat.

            They were all printed with the Fire Nation insignia.

            I sprinted back towards our campsite.  I didn’t think anyone had seen me, but you can never be too sure.  The branches and vines whipped at my arms, face, and legs.  I hoped and hoped that Macco hadn’t started the fire as I ran, tripping over roots and logs.  If the fire had started to smoke, they would see us.

            Finally, after a breathless run, I stumbled onto the campsite where Macco was trying use the flint stones to ignite the logs.  Thank goodness he had never been good with those things!

            “Macco!” I exclaimed.

            He turned around startled.  “What’s wrong?”

            “I think we overslept.”