Wolfbrother
Jun. 29th, 2006 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
princeinexileThis was a mistake, he realizes; he came out into a stables – the bird was left with them, yes, and he paid up for a few days, the coin he’d brought from Milliways, that netherworld between here and other places.
He left after that. He couldn’t risk the bird (it isn’t even yours, it’s that girl’s, you stole it, you stole it and then you’d eat it, wouldn’t you, if you became like Wells) so he walked. He went back the way he came.
He had never been one for retracing his steps. He didn’t like going over old leads in the search for the Avatar; it was like treading in the footprints of failure. It was retreat, it was resignation, it was defeat that made him sick to his stomach.
Still, the path back was clear. If Iroh was where he left him, or had traveled in a similar direction, wouldn’t he be easy to find? Of course he would be, it was going to be simple.
Just a few day’s travel, and he’d be with his uncle again, and he’d know what to do. They said he’d walked the spirit world before, they
It was mid-day. More then enough time to get walking in. He would find uncle. He had to.
+++
Zuko was not far from the village where he had revealed himself – and summarily been driven from the place (they lined the streets, rocks in hand, waiting for an excuse to throw). He gave it a wide berth; there was no reason to go back. The farm came up.
He traveled the river, staying clear of the locals. The horizon went bloody; the sun was setting; this would be a good place to sleep; the grass was soft, and the water would make the summer’s heat a little.
Dropping his hat and taking off his swordbelt; Zuko put it all to the side, and sat down. He had brought food from Milliway’s, knowing he had nothing to eat otherwise, and broke into it. Simple rice balls, sweet and filling, was the traveler’s best friend.
He watched the river run by as the sun set, and wondered if it ever reached the end of its journey.
+++
Night spread a blanket across the sky of blue and white, and Zuko felt something like pain in his limbs. He blinked, and stared at his hands for a moment, before his eyes went to the sky. No, no, it was – it was a crescent moon when I left, it was—
It was not in tune with Milliway’s moon.
The moon that crested the mountains, mocked from the clouds, was fat and full and round, and he remembered, oh, he remembered – the boy, (you remind me of my brother, he’d show me this kinda thing…) and the sunflowers losing their heads by the light of the moon—
--he’d misjudged, misjudged wildly, and now it was –
--too late.
Zuko was turning with the moon.
Wells had told him he didn’t fight it; it was easier when it came and was accepted, but Zuko had lived his life in struggle and rage and this was no different. Not unused to fighting with his body, making it obey, putting it through the rigors of combat, Zuko began the fight anew, with the change.
It was not the first time Zuko would pit himself against an unstoppable force. It would also not be the first time he fell before it.
Later, the villagers would speak of the animal noises in the dark, some creature in agony – and it would be a boy-prince, watching his hands warp, his fingers gain pads and claws, thick black fur sprouting.
He tore at himself, his clothing; he was tangling in it, screaming, screaming in rage, denial, pain, fear –
--and they heard him for miles, echoing along the riverbank –
--and he could not not stop, he could not make it stop it was supposed to be different, his world didn’t have these sorts of things, it was supposed to stop--
But it wasn’t.
It was breaking him down, making him scream, leaving him breathless in the grass (loamy earth, smells of the recent passing of people, the woman, her son, her husband, himself, days before) and –
And he was gone.
+++
Four paws hard; one two, three four. Learn to walk. Walk walk walk. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Walking is hard.
(I don’t like this. It’s not right. Everything seems bigger. I’m not sure what anything is; shapes are harder now.)
Thinking harder. Wearymind, emptyhead.
(I don’t know where I am. Am I still by the river? Yes, the water is there. Thirsty. How do I drink?)
Water clean, crisp, clear, good.
(…how will I find uncle like this?)
Pack-family, where?
(He won’t even know it’s me! I – I’ll have to wait.)
No pack.
(… I don’t want… to be alone. Not like this.)
Nothing.
(It’s dark, but there is so much. I can hear the cicadas. The animals in the farm.)
Sorrow.
(… Stephanie… )
Shame.
( Should have listened. Should have known.)
Bottom rung outcast scarred burned bad misery shame.
(…guess this is how it always is. Nothing can ever be easy.)
Grief, alone.
(Oh Spirits, I’m going to go mad. I’m going to go mad like this.)
+++
Howling rattled the windows; a mother clutched her son, and grieved for her missing child and her long-departed husband.
She wondered if the stranger, the wandering prince, was out there, hearing the beast’s keening. She buried guilt and held her boy in the dark.
“Will it hurt us?”
“No, it’s probably a sick animal. There’s only one. Maybe it’s left its pack to die…”
He left after that. He couldn’t risk the bird (it isn’t even yours, it’s that girl’s, you stole it, you stole it and then you’d eat it, wouldn’t you, if you became like Wells) so he walked. He went back the way he came.
He had never been one for retracing his steps. He didn’t like going over old leads in the search for the Avatar; it was like treading in the footprints of failure. It was retreat, it was resignation, it was defeat that made him sick to his stomach.
Still, the path back was clear. If Iroh was where he left him, or had traveled in a similar direction, wouldn’t he be easy to find? Of course he would be, it was going to be simple.
Just a few day’s travel, and he’d be with his uncle again, and he’d know what to do. They said he’d walked the spirit world before, they
It was mid-day. More then enough time to get walking in. He would find uncle. He had to.
+++
Zuko was not far from the village where he had revealed himself – and summarily been driven from the place (they lined the streets, rocks in hand, waiting for an excuse to throw). He gave it a wide berth; there was no reason to go back. The farm came up.
He traveled the river, staying clear of the locals. The horizon went bloody; the sun was setting; this would be a good place to sleep; the grass was soft, and the water would make the summer’s heat a little.
Dropping his hat and taking off his swordbelt; Zuko put it all to the side, and sat down. He had brought food from Milliway’s, knowing he had nothing to eat otherwise, and broke into it. Simple rice balls, sweet and filling, was the traveler’s best friend.
He watched the river run by as the sun set, and wondered if it ever reached the end of its journey.
+++
Night spread a blanket across the sky of blue and white, and Zuko felt something like pain in his limbs. He blinked, and stared at his hands for a moment, before his eyes went to the sky. No, no, it was – it was a crescent moon when I left, it was—
It was not in tune with Milliway’s moon.
The moon that crested the mountains, mocked from the clouds, was fat and full and round, and he remembered, oh, he remembered – the boy, (you remind me of my brother, he’d show me this kinda thing…) and the sunflowers losing their heads by the light of the moon—
--he’d misjudged, misjudged wildly, and now it was –
--too late.
Zuko was turning with the moon.
Wells had told him he didn’t fight it; it was easier when it came and was accepted, but Zuko had lived his life in struggle and rage and this was no different. Not unused to fighting with his body, making it obey, putting it through the rigors of combat, Zuko began the fight anew, with the change.
It was not the first time Zuko would pit himself against an unstoppable force. It would also not be the first time he fell before it.
Later, the villagers would speak of the animal noises in the dark, some creature in agony – and it would be a boy-prince, watching his hands warp, his fingers gain pads and claws, thick black fur sprouting.
He tore at himself, his clothing; he was tangling in it, screaming, screaming in rage, denial, pain, fear –
--and they heard him for miles, echoing along the riverbank –
--and he could not not stop, he could not make it stop it was supposed to be different, his world didn’t have these sorts of things, it was supposed to stop--
But it wasn’t.
It was breaking him down, making him scream, leaving him breathless in the grass (loamy earth, smells of the recent passing of people, the woman, her son, her husband, himself, days before) and –
And he was gone.
+++
Four paws hard; one two, three four. Learn to walk. Walk walk walk. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Walking is hard.
(I don’t like this. It’s not right. Everything seems bigger. I’m not sure what anything is; shapes are harder now.)
Thinking harder. Wearymind, emptyhead.
(I don’t know where I am. Am I still by the river? Yes, the water is there. Thirsty. How do I drink?)
Water clean, crisp, clear, good.
(…how will I find uncle like this?)
Pack-family, where?
(He won’t even know it’s me! I – I’ll have to wait.)
No pack.
(… I don’t want… to be alone. Not like this.)
Nothing.
(It’s dark, but there is so much. I can hear the cicadas. The animals in the farm.)
Sorrow.
(… Stephanie… )
Shame.
( Should have listened. Should have known.)
Bottom rung outcast scarred burned bad misery shame.
(…guess this is how it always is. Nothing can ever be easy.)
Grief, alone.
(Oh Spirits, I’m going to go mad. I’m going to go mad like this.)
+++
Howling rattled the windows; a mother clutched her son, and grieved for her missing child and her long-departed husband.
She wondered if the stranger, the wandering prince, was out there, hearing the beast’s keening. She buried guilt and held her boy in the dark.
“Will it hurt us?”
“No, it’s probably a sick animal. There’s only one. Maybe it’s left its pack to die…”
