They move through the forest at a slower pace now. Leaves crunch underfoot, damp and quiet, and Teorin’s creature pads along behind them, tail flicking. At least the prisoner is upright. That’s something.

  Zuko glances back over his shoulder. Teorin walks with his hands bound loosely in front of him, shoulders still slumped but steady enough. No stumbling. No collapsing.

  “So,” Zuko says, keeping his voice low, “if you aren’t an Airbender… where do you come from?”

  Teorin lets out an annoyed huff. “I told you. Another world.”

  “Yes, but what is it like?”

  That earns him a longer look, like Teorin is trying to measure his sincerity. “Decided I’m not an Airbender?” Teorin asks.

  “Maybe.” Zuko’s gaze flicks briefly to the creature trailing behind them. “Your strange animal is pretty convincing.”

  “Then why not let me go?”

  Zuko exhales sharply through his nose. “Someone from another world? That seems even more valuable.”

  Teorin snorts. “Yeah, and we all know that’s the most important thing about people: how valuable they are.”

  Zuko’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer. The forest fills the space instead: rustling leaves, the distant call of something unseen.

  Teorin lets out a very long breath. “It’s different from here. Very different, but also not. Seems like people are people no matter where you go.”

  Is that comforting? Or a little horrifying? After all, Teorin was bound in a forest. Zuko keeps his eyes forward, but demands, “Different how?”

  “We have more machines,” Teorin says. “It’s easier to communicate. We don’t really have nations. Groups, sure, but no nations. And then you have people like Lev—” He stops short.

  Zuko’s head snaps up. “Who’s Lev?”

  “The guy I came with,” Teorin says carefully. “The one with the gold hair.”

  Zuko lets out a sharp breath. “The swordsman?”

  Teorin freezes. His shoulders go rigid, breath hitching. “You saw him,” he says, voice suddenly tight. “What did you do to him?”

  Zuko’s hand twitches toward the hilt at his side before he can stop it. He doesn’t draw. “He fought me,” he says, the words coming out low, almost defensive.

  “Of course he did.” Teorin’s eyes narrow. “He’s an overprotective idiot. But that’s not what I asked.”

  Zuko looks away, toward the trees crowding close around the trail. “He’s alive.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I could have killed him,” Zuko says quietly. “But I didn’t.”

  It hadn’t been necessary. Not really. Maybe he should have. But now, watching Teorin’s shoulders loosen a fraction…

  He wasn’t grateful. That would be wrong. It was just good because the prisoner would stay more compliant. Maybe this was a weak point Zuko could exploit, maybe—

  “Good.” Teorin’s voice is rough, but the next words come out like steel. “Because if you had…” Teorin’s gaze cuts sharp as a blade. “I’d kill you.”

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  Zuko stumbles half a step. Not from roots or stones, but from the weight of the threat. For one brief, infuriating instant, it feels like the prisoner is the one holding the chain. He catches himself, lip curling. “You couldn’t,” he snaps. “Even if you tried.”

  Teorin’s mouth twitches, the faintest shadow of a grin. “Maybe not.” A pause. “But I’d make you regret it first.”

  Zuko turns sharply, just in time for something unseen to shove into his shoulder. Not hard. Just enough. He staggers sideways, shoulder slamming into a tree trunk.

  Spirits! His fists clench, fire flaring as he whirls back towards Teorin.

  Teorin hasn’t moved. He stands exactly where he was, hands still bound, expression irritatingly calm. “See?” he says lightly. “Didn’t even have to try.”

  Heat builds in his still clenched fists, but Zuko can’t miss the quiet chuckle that follows. Not mocking. Almost… companionable.

  “Careful, hothead,” Teorin adds. “Keep underestimating me, and one day I’ll surprise you.”

  Zuko huffs and turns away before his temper can do something stupid, but his ears burn hotter than his fists, and he hates that most of all.

  Night settles heavy over the forest. Zuko doesn’t light a fire. Not when the bandits fled with rumors on their tongues. Not when any glow could give them away.

  He sits with his back to a tree, sword across his knees, eyes fixed on the dark. Across from him, Teorin rests against another trunk, hands bound loosely in his lap. The strange animal—Cat—keeps pawing at the rope until Teorin absently strokes along its back. The creature purrs, loud in the quiet.

  Zuko ignores them.

  After a while, Teorin speaks, voice low. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”

  Zuko doesn’t look up. “Not your problem.”

  “Never said it was.” Teorin leans his head back, eyes half-lidded. “But I know what it’s like. Too many ghosts in the dark. Too much noise in your own head.”

  The words land harder than they should. Zuko’s grip tightens on the sword. His jaw locks. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Maybe not,” Teorin says easily. “But I know the look of someone carrying too much alone.” His voice drops, steady and almost gentle. “If you ever wanted to set it down for a minute… I’d listen.”

  Zuko goes very still.

  The night hums around them—wind through leaves, something small skittering in the underbrush. Who did this peasant think he was? Did he really think that Zuko would just spill his problems to him?

  Zuko shuts his eyes. It has to be a trap. His grip tightens on his blade. The prisoner is just trying to manipulate him.

  Except he sounds so stupidly earnest. Zuko huffs a breath and mutters, barely audible, “Go to sleep.”

  Teorin smiles faintly as his eyes close, settling on the mossy ground with his back against the trunk. “Goodnight, hothead.”

  Zuko doesn’t answer. The leather grip of his sword seems to almost creak under his fingers. He should tie Teorin more tightly to the tree again. Upright. Contained. With the rope simply wrapped around the trunk, it would be easier for the prisoner to free himself. Only…

  Teorin looks so exhausted. He didn’t have the strength to escape. He could barely stand. It was fine.

  Maybe the looser restraints would make Teorin more pliant. Maybe he would talk, reveal something. If Teorin was going to manipulate him, then Zuko would do it better.

  Only the stupid words keep echoing in his mind over and over. The gentle tone.

  Manipulation. They were a manipulation.

  A branch snaps in the distance. Then muttered voices echo through the trees.

  Zuko’s head snaps up. A curse, whispered under his breath. Teorin stirs.

  Zuko moves instantly, crossing the space between them in two silent strides. His hand clamps over Teorin’s mouth before he can speak.

  Teorin freezes. He doesn’t struggle. Even the creature goes still against Teorin’s side, eyes wide, silent.

  Voices drift through the trees—too far to make out clearly, but close enough to raise the hairs on Zuko’s neck. Teorin stiffens beneath his hand. He nudges Zuko’s leg lightly with his knee, eyes flicking toward the sound.

  Zuko doesn’t release him.

  A flicker of light moves between the trunks. Torchlight. It wavers, then fades, swallowed by the forest again.

  Zuko waits. Longer than feels necessary. That’s the only way to be safe.

  Teorin doesn’t move. He just breathes shallowly beneath Zuko’s palm, patient.

  At last, Zuko eases his hand away.

  Teorin sucks in a sharp breath. “I think we might need to walk faster.”

  Zuko’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

  “I didn’t like what they were saying.”

  Zuko stiffens. “You could hear them?”

  Teorin nods. “My hearing is better than most people’s. Sound’s just air pressure. I’m particularly sensitive.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Not much,” Teorin says carefully. “But someone’s searching. Do you have royalty here? They mentioned a princess sweeping the woods.”

  Zuko’s breath catches.

  Teorin keeps talking. “Something about her being angry if they didn’t find what she was looking for.”

  Zuko’s blood runs cold. For a moment, there’s nothing but the wind in the trees—and the image of lightning splitting the dark.

  “Hothead?” Teorin asks quietly.

  Zuko is already on his feet.

  “We don’t wait for first light,” he says. “We move now.”