Where There Is Smoke, There Is Fire [Avatar: The Last Airbender Fanfic]

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Izara woke from her light doze in the early hours, roused by someone flicking her tent door open and checking on her. No one had looked in on her for at least two or three hours, and she doubted they would bother to check on her again for a while. Since they'd beat the shit out of her, they likely assumed she was too injured to cause them any grief. Unfortunately, they were wrong. Her pain tolerance was relatively high, and she could easily push through her wounds.

For now, she intended to wreak some havoc on their war balloons and keep them out of service for as long as she could. Tilting her head back as far as she could, she yanked the tie from the bottom of her hair. She gently shook her head from side to side to allow the plait to fall apart and hoped to be able to catch her knife in her bound hands. Praying to the spirits silently, she felt the metal fall into her hands safely. Going forward, though, she needed to free herself from her bonds without anyone noticing or dropping her knife.

Little by little, she managed to cut through the rope and sighed in relief. It was still tied tightly, so it took her some wiggling and moving before she could finally pull her hands free. When she finally brought her arms in front of her, she resisted the urge to groan loudly in pain from her shoulder wound, leg, and ribs. Instead, she whimpered softly, biting her bottom lip to keep the noise as quiet as possible.

With her injuries as severe as they were, she wouldn't be able to stay any longer. Any more of the treatment they were giving her, and she would no longer be able to escape nor sabotage their plans. Her leg wound, in particular, was going to make it hard for her to walk, run and fight if needed. Her cracked ribs made breathing uncomfortable, but she couldn't do anything about that for now. Taking full advantage of her small amount of privacy, she treated her wounds as best she could, cutting some of the tent fabric away to tie around her shoulder to keep it from reopening. After doing the same to her arm and calf, she carefully peeked through the tent door to see if someone was keeping guard outside.

Shockingly enough, no one was out in front, but they likely assumed she was too injured to escape anyway. A few guards were walking around on a rhythmic patrol. She closely watched their movements, memorising them before she slipped outside, keeping out of the torchlight around. Maybe they had lost more men than they'd expected in their attack, and they were low on forces, thus leaving her tent unguarded. Only the regular patrol would be keeping an eye on her. This worked in her favour, and she used it to explore the camp a little under the cover of darkness. For now, all she wanted to find was the location of the main tent where the higher-ups would be and where the war balloons were. She needed to do her best to familiarise herself with the camp layout so that she could plan how to inflict maximum damage and escape.

Moving silently behind a tent, someone emerged abruptly from it, and she regripped her small dagger with gritted teeth as she listened. She hoped they wouldn't come to the back where she was hiding, but her hopes were dashed when she heard footsteps approaching her. With a sigh, she watched from the darkness as they used the minimal torchlight to move out of sight. It was an older male, and he began adjusting his pants as if he were going to relieve himself. With a soft groan, he did precisely what Izara expected, so she took the chance to search the inside of his tent. It was small enough that it was improbable that anyone else would be in there, and her anxiety was at its maximum as she snuck to the front of the tent. After checking, the coast was clear, and she peeked inside. Thankfully, it was empty, and she kept a close ear out for the man to finish his business, thus signalling for her to leave. She rummaged through some of his things, trying to find any papers or even some medical supplies for her to use. There were only a few notes, but nothing appeared significant from her quick assessment of them. The only thing of value to her was a stale chunk of bread and a piece of fruit on the table that looked to have been leftovers from dinner that he hadn't wanted. Stuffing them into her pockets, she left the tent cautiously, just as she heard his footsteps coming around the tent to return inside.