Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

The Hunt

The sun clawed its way over the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. The crisp air carried the scent of pine needles and damp earth, invigorating the flurry of activity at Xanadu's formidable gates. Rokkun and Zuko, readied their Komodo Rhinos, securing supplies with practiced precision.

The fortress buzzed with Nomad warriors, their movements sharp and purposeful, as if sensing the weight of the mission ahead.

Katara approached Zuko, her brow furrowed with worry, her water pouch swaying at her hip. "Be careful, Zuko," she urged, her voice soft but heavy with concern.

Zuko offered a reassuring smile, his scar catching the morning light. "I'll be fine, Katara. I've faced worse."

Aang, his youthful face a mix of apprehension and hope, stepped forward, gripping his staff. "Good luck, Zuko. We'll be here when you get back—hopefully with those kids."

The air thickened with the weight of their farewell, but a figure emerged from the fortress's shadows, cutting through the tension. Azula, pale but resolute, strode toward them, a bow slung over her shoulder and two meticulously packed bags in her hands. Her crimson robes clung to her frame, her golden eyes burning with determination.

Rokkun's head snapped up, surprise flashing across his scarred face. "My love, what's this?" he asked, gesturing to her battle-ready stance.
Azula's voice was firm, unyielding despite her recent recovery. "I'm coming with you."

Rokkun's brow furrowed, concern etching his features. "You're still weak, Azula. You need rest—stay here, safe."

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance flaring. "They're my sons, Rokkun. I'm not sitting this out."
Rokkun studied her, recognizing the steel in her gaze—a fire no argument could douse. He sighed, a mix of worry and admiration in his amber eyes, and turned to a nearby warrior. "Fetch her a mount," he commanded, his voice gruff but resigned.

The warrior scurried off, and Rokkun met Azula's gaze, his grin flickering. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered, a hint of pride softening his tone. He hoped her presence wouldn't endanger their mission—or her fragile health.

The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The air crackled with the promise of a perilous journey, the hunt for Taijuk and the stolen princes driving them forward.
Rokkun's wolves led the way, their noses low, tracking Taijuk's scent through dense forests thick with pine and damp earth. Rokkun, Azula, and Zuko rode close behind, the midday sun beating down, sweat beading on their brows. The wolves, matted with dust and sweat, navigated the treacherous terrain with uncanny precision, their loyalty to Rokkun—a bond forged since his youth—unshakable.

After hours of relentless pursuit, the wolves slowed, noses twitching. Rokkun dismounted, kneeling to study the ground, his fingers tracing faint tracks in the dirt. Years of hunting had honed his skills to a razor's edge. "He's heading north," he said, stroking a wolf's head. "Toward the swamp. Two days' ride, maybe less."

"It's getting late," Azula interjected, her voice sharp, scanning the darkening forest. "We should camp here."

"Agreed," Zuko said, his tone clipped, already unloading his rhino.

They set up camp in a small clearing, the air cooling as dusk settled. As they erected tents, Rokkun turned to Zuko, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Ever tracked a beast, Zuko?" he asked, tossing a log onto the firepile.

Zuko's jaw tightened, his hands pausing on a tent peg. "Not much. Palace life didn't leave room for it," he said dryly.

Rokkun chuckled, nostalgia softening his gruff edge. "Should've run wild with me when we were kids, Fire Lord. Might've toughened you up."

Zuko's eyes flashed, his temper rising. "I was a prince, Aarslan. I didn't have your freedom—or your recklessness."

Rokkun's grin turned sardonic, his voice dripping with mockery. "Right, too busy hiding behind Mommy and Daddy's throne."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zuko snapped, stepping closer, flames sparking at his fingertips.

"Nothing," Rokkun said, turning to gather firewood, his tone dismissive. "Just the truth."

Zuko's voice dropped, dangerous. "I'm here for Azula, not you. If you hadn't started this warpath against the Earth Kingdom, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Rokkun whirled, his face a mask of fury, flames flaring in his palms. "And what'll you say when I rip that crown off your head, Fire Lord?" he snarled.

Zuko shoved him, unleashing a torrent of fire that licked at Rokkun's armor. Rokkun countered with a fiery arc, and a brief, chaotic skirmish erupted, their flames clashing in bursts of heat and light.

"Enough!" Azula's voice sliced through the air, sharp as a blade. She stood between them, her eyes blazing with exasperation. "My sons are out there, and you two are bickering like children? Pathetic! What is wrong with men?!" She threw her hands up, storming to her tent.

Rokkun and Zuko froze, their flames dying out, exchanging a tense glance. Rokkun's anger softened, his gaze lingering on Azula's retreating figure. "She's been... off," he muttered. "Pale, not sleeping, craving strange things..."

Zuko's eyes widened, understanding dawning. "You idiot," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "She's pregnant. How could you let her come?"

Rokkun's shoulders sagged, concern flickering in his eyes. "You try stopping her," he said quietly. "She's Azula."

Zuko sighed, rubbing his neck. "Get some rest. We've got a long ride tomorrow."

The forest's hum lulled them into a deep sleep, Azula and Rokkun nestled together, their warmth a shield against the night's chill. The wolves curled at their feet, exhausted but vigilant. Zuko, however, lay awake, the fire's dying embers casting shadows across his face. He watched Azula and Rokkun, a storm of emotions churning within him—envy for the peace on Azula's sleeping face, the love she found in Rokkun's arms, and pity for the man who, despite his flaws, had given her that happiness.

He crept from his sleeping bag, his dagger glinting in the moonlight. Silent as a shadow, he approached Rokkun, his heart pounding. Now, he thought. End the threat. Reclaim Azula. Save the Fire Nation.

But as he drew closer, he saw Azula's face buried in Rokkun's chest, her expression soft, radiant with a joy he'd rarely seen. This was the love she'd craved, the life she'd fought for. His resolve wavered, the dagger trembling in his hand. To tear a husband from his wife, a father from his children—it was too cruel, a path too dark even for him.

Zuko sheathed the dagger, its blade sinking into the earth with a soft thud. "I can't," he whispered, exhaustion washing over him. He returned to his sleeping bag, a strange peace settling in his chest.

He'd chosen mercy, but at what cost? His ambition, perhaps. His own happiness. Yet, as sleep claimed him, he knew he'd chosen right.