The Sea of Ice (Sun and Moon Book 2)

Chapter 12 - Routine

Okay, guys, here's the deal. Originally, a large portion of this book was supposed to be Aang's journey to Araden, and Katara's journey to Ba Sing Se. But I've come to realize that the reason I'm blocked is because I don't want to write those journeys. I will have to put in some of Aang's, for storylining, but I won't be putting nearly as much as I'd planned. That means this book will be shorter than originally planned, but this should get rid of my block. So, sorry, but...yeah. Okay. On to the chapter.

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Aang and Twila stopped for the night, making camp in the shadow of one of the many ice cliffs that surrounded them. After nearly three weeks of traveling together, the pair had descended into a routine.

Twila would fold the Beastian pelt into a compact floor while Aang would bend the snow and ice into a large igloo for the two of them. Lacking wood for a fire, Aang would create a small inferno between his palms, over which Twila would roast whatever meat they had. Tonight it was saber-bear meat, from one of the huge beasts that had attacked them the day before.

The frequent attacks were one of many things that Aang was growing used to. Another was Twila's silence. She rarely spoke, ever. At first, Aang had been irritated by this. But as they traveled further and further into the icy climate of the South Pole, Aang began to understand why.

Soon enough, he too was more often silent. Speaking used too much energy, and energy had to be preserved for heat. As a firebender, Aang could keep himself warm. And Twila, being an Araden, wasn't affected by the cold near as much as a regular person would be.

But even at that, both of them often spent the days shivering, their teeth chattering and their extremities numb. At least the Beastian kept the worst of the wind off them, but with the bitter cold of the air itself even that was a minimal comfort.

Aang finally understood what Twila had meant when she said that no one else would survive this journey. Even he wasn't sure he was going to.

If the cold and the constant walking over treacherous, icy terrain wasn't enough, practically every animal whose path they crossed tried to eat them. A lot of the wildlife were strange species that Aang had never seen before. The saber-bears themselves were easily three times his size, and they'd even run into a Beastian--a live one. That had not been easy to take down. Aang had been shocked at first, by Twila's coarseness. Killing all those animals had bothered him, for the first week or so. Not just that, but really, eat meat? Never!

Until the third, or maybe it was the fourth, time he nearly died because he didn't want to kill something else. And despite his protestations, Aang's stomach had other ideas.

Without the animals that attacked them, he and Twila would've starved within the first week. Dried seal-jerky and canteens of water didn't last long when everything froze at night.

Aang had woken more than once with a thin layer of ice coating his own skin. If he was honest with himself, he was surprised he'd survived this long.

The smell of cooking meat brought him back to the present, and he watched as Twila unsheathed her knife and cut off long strips of the hunk she'd roasted over his hands. Aang let the fire he held go out, though he immediately missed its warmth. Staring out through the igloo's entrance as he forced down the meat, Aang wondered how he'd ever found snow and ice fun.

He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted warmth--the sun on his head, maybe a beach stretching out around him. Someplace warm.

When this was over, he'd take a long vacation. Maybe to Ember Island. He was sure Zuko'd let him stay in the Fire Lord's house there. A shiver raced up his spine just thinking about it, but when the chills spread to his chest, he realized that the meager heat provided by cooking the meat was already dissipating.

Glancing up, he saw that Twila had already rolled into her heavy fur sleeping bag, and without a word Aang followed suit.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered how his friends were doing. If they were shivering themselves to sleep, or maybe awake, talking. He wondered if they worried about him. He wondered what they would think of all this, if they knew what he did now.

But despite his wondering, his last thought was more an image; an image of gray-green eyes, staring sightlessly into the distance.