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The mountain loomed ahead of them. As far as mountains went this wasn't much larger or smaller than any other they'd encountered, but it dwarfed them all the same. Behind him, Zuko heard the tribesman whistle. "That's some rock."

Zuko squinted, feeling more uncertain than he hoped he looked. He'd looked at the map of the Day Road enough that he knew the entrance was stuck vaguely in the center of the base, but said base was wide enough that pinpointing the center wouldn't be easy. He jumped off the Eelhound to get a look on foot. Sokka remained seated, not being the jumping type at the moment.

Morning had dawned clear and cold, gradually warming as the sun broached the horizon and meandered its way up. The moon had been out during the night, but it was shrouded by thick clouds and didn't show for more than a minute. Sokka, oddly quiet, had stared where it lay hidden beyond the cotton canopy as though hoping for it to appear. Zuko wondered if all Water Tribe drew strength from the moon, and not only the waterbenders. With the dawn, however, Sokka had returned to his old annoying self. A complaint dangled like a knife from the tip of his tongue, threatening to drop.

Finally: "Do you have any idea where--"

"Oh shut up," snarled Zuko, and then a wire trigger in his instincts twinged, and he spun around and stood up suddenly, scanning the woods behind them.

Sokka frowned and twisted around awkwardly in his seat. "What are you looking for? Boogums and ghosties again?"

"I told you somebody was following us and I was right," Zuko said. "I know somebody's watching us, I sensed it." He strained his ears; was that the crack of a branch? To answer, a slight movement between two trees betrayed the presence of a deer grazing at a grassy patch. It froze in the peculiar way of its species and stared at them, then with a sudden jerky movement bounded away. Still, a nagging sensation whispered at him.

Sokka quieted and lent his eyes to the search for a moment. Other than the lone deer, the trees were silent and still in the light morning mist. "I don't see anything," he said uncertainly. "Just a breakfast I can't run after. Besides, it might not even be the same person. As much as you attract trouble, who's going to follow us into a mountain? Assuming, of course, we can find the entrance. This is kind of a bad start."

Like so many things he'd known, the object of Zuko's search appeared as soon as he wasn't looking for it. His eyes idly raked the forest line pushing close to the mountain, and between a mass of branches he spotted a gaping mouth, dark against the leaves illuminated in the morning light and raised twenty feet off the flat ground. "There!" He pointed, momentarily distracted. "Right there. See? And it's wide enough for the Eelhound."

"Oh goody," Sokka said darkly, and nudged the beast to move.

The path leading up to the entrance was wedged in close to the sudden, steep side of the mountain's base, and it was strewn with treacherous rocks. Thorny shrubs pressed in close from the other side of the narrow stip. The eelhound hooted in annoyance, and Sokka had to continually duck branches stuck out like errant legs, hoping to trip up passerby. Zuko led the two while kicking some of the loose rocks away. And then they were in front of it.

It was larger than it had seemed from a couple hundred feet away, well wide enough to allow the eelhound comfortable room. The animal swayed warily but did not complain when Sokka urged it forward, apprehension clearly writ upon his own face. Still, as they stepped inside the mouth the tribesman cupped his hands and hollered. The sound bounced down the stretch of tunnel that lay in front of them, echoing into the darkness.

For a moment they stood there, teetering on the brink where daylight dissolved into constant darkness. Then Zuko extended his hand and, almost thoughtfully, unfurled his fingers. A spark winked into existence, and then blossomed until it colored the tunnel a deep russet. The eelhound huffed, and began to shuffle forward. Zuko kept ahead of it while lighting the way, every so often sending a tendril spiraling a ways before them to illuminate what lay further down. The window of light behind them, marking where they had entered, dwindled until it seemed as though the mouth had closed on them, and they were walking into the stomach of some strange beast. Always used to open air, the lord felt like he was being slowly swallowed.

At first the way was more or less straight and even, with a few rough twists that snarled the path. The structure of the tunnel was more or less rounded, but near the bottom the sides were marred every so often by deep lacerations, like gashes. Zuko stuck a finger in one; the grooves were several inches deep. Sokka twisted to look down at one with worry. "That is so creepy."

They hadn't spoken for the ten minutes they'd gone so far, and the words traveled strangely. "What's creepy?"

"Do those look like slashes to you?"

"They were probably made when the tunnels were built."

"I'm sure of it," Sokka said darkly. The hair on Zuko's neck rose, but he shook off the spooky feeling with an effort.

"You are such a killjoy," he said. Sokka sputtered indignantly, as the fire lord knew he would.

"This? Coming from you?" the tribesman demanded. "If I'm a killjoy, you're a stuff-it-in-a-sack-and-set-fire-to-it-joy. You make paranoia an art. You could paint pictures with it." Zuko laughed, and tried to ignore the grooves. "So why do they call it the Day Road?"

The prince scuffed a pebble. "Because it takes a day to get through to the other side." Or an eternity, if you get lost. Even Sokka didn't care to point that out. Suddenly he felt awkward. "You know, uh—you didn't really have to come, you know. With me, I mean. I mean, I'm not saying I didn't want you—"

"It's okay if you didn't. But somebody has to keep you from, you know, picking fights with village idiots, stuff like that. Your uncle apparently considered me the guy for it." Sokka stopped to consider. "Toph would have egged you on, I'm positive."

Zuko was tempted to laugh again, but he was aware that the tribesman was trying to divert the subject and it was annoying. Sokka always seemed to avoid sensitive issues, skipping over and around them like he was afraid of catching his foot and falling. "I'm sincere. I know this is a strain on you."

"This is nothing. Try this towing hippies and their lutes along, that's a strain. I was ready to tear my hair out."

"Stop that," Zuko said sharply. "Just let me be serious."

"I can't seem to stop you," Sokka replied after a moment. Zuko kept his gaze steadfastly ahead. "What's the big deal? It's a favor for a friend. Two friends, including Iroh."

The fire lord didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything for a minute. He thought of what Sokka had told him, once, about his mother. There had been such a difference then between the way Sokka and Katara felt about that day, the brother's tempered grief and the sister's unbridled anger. He wondered if Sokka was really so accepting of that tragedy as he'd appeared against Katara's anguish, or if he quietly still harbored the discontent his sister had gone out and conquered.

"Were you close to your mother?" Zuko asked suddenly.

For a moment Sokka looked about to fall off the eelhound. His expression was identical to the one he'd had when Zuko had first brought up the subject to him, in the tent—taken entirely by surprise. "What? I mean, yeah, she was my mom. Is. I mean, of course I was." And then he clammed up.

That bothered Zuko for a reason he couldn't define.

He wondered about his own mother, what she was doing at the moment. Was she still asleep? Was she taking breakfast? Did she think of him when she woke in the morning, did she rise with him in her thoughts? Zuko figured any mother might, being away from her children, but he wasn't sure just how much time anyone could devote to missing somebody. He couldn't even figure out how much time Sokka devoted to missing his mother. What would she think of her son, the fire lord? Did she still think of the young, sweet boy she'd left, and what would she say to the scarred youth that showed up on her doorstep? Sokka seemed absolutely desperate not to continue the conversation, so he didn't voice his concern aloud. But they nagged at him, those persistent, horrible little fears.

He knew she loved him and always would, scar or no. But he also remembered his uncle's look when he fully viewed his nephew's wrecked face for the first time after that fateful day. He dreaded seeing that look on his mother, and knew it would come. In the days to come, he would brace himself, because she couldn't.

They kept walking, and walking, and walking. It was hard to say how much time passed, though Zuko did his best to keep a mental track. He was pretty sure Sokka had fallen asleep on the eelhound, proving his exceptional ability to fall asleep just about anywhere.

The stale, dank air was both damp and warm, and increasingly so the further they traveled into the mountain. The result was a tunnel that was getting stuffier. Zuko was thankful the passage itself was large, or else the combination of the tight space and thick air would have made the journey miserable. A few hours passed (at least, he thought they were a few hours) and Sokka was starting to snore.

Almost without realizing it Zuko stepped into a cavernous space. The ceiling angled sharply up and his little self-made lantern didn't throw the light as it had. He extended the flame, and sent it roaring. The place it revealed was large and round, enough for Appa the bison to fly almost comfortably, and lightened the claustrophobic effect of the tunnels. He stretched to compound the effect.

Sokka woke up and rubbed his leg, looking around. "Is this naturally hollow, or was it carved out?"

The answer looked to be a combination between the two, with the natural cavern widened and dug into with the same deep lacerations evident in the tunnels. The grooves had clearly been made a long time before. "Look," Zuko pointed at one corner.

Piled there were different odds and ends, mostly steel-link chains, hooks, and various other tools, evidently abadoned by the pirates that had used these tunnels in older days. Zuko was surprised. Steel-link chains as long and thick as these took a long time to make, and were expensive. But there they were, left to rust like everything else there. He knelt and rubbed at one, and his finger came away russet from the metal's decay. "They just left all their stuff here."

Behind him, Sokka groaned, and pointed. "There's why."

Zuko turned around and looked to the other side of the expanse, where another heap was massed far larger than that the pirates left. This was an even odder assortment of rocks, rotted timber, and large, strangely rounded smooth stones.

In its arrangement, it looked rather like a giant nest.