Zuko panted, slumping against a charred house; his doing, of course. He’d gone a little overboard whilst fighting for his life against a hunter; a bender who was hellbent on burying him six feet under. He had made the fatal mistake of underestimating his opponent. His body felt bruised, his lip was busted. A cut ran across his throat, a bead of warm blood ran down his skin.

Trembling, he dabbed at the wound, staining his fingers crimson. Had he been standing just a little to the left, his throat would’ve been slit. This was hardly a battle. Zuko was dancing with death. 

He hated being forced to hide. He felt like a cornered rat, but he had no other choice. He’d been separated from his men, from his uncle. Against a formidable opponent that he had underestimated, he was alone. For once he found himself desiring help, but* help was for the weak*, he stubbornly told himself. Feeling weak was something he couldn’t stand. Zuko couldn’t wallow in self-pity for too long; his opponent, that freakishly strong bender, was approaching his hiding place, their footsteps crunching through the dirt. He stiffened, and he could feel his face go pale. 

Am I going to die here?

…No. I’m not going down without a fight.

He swore he could feel the anger of a thousand suns burning within him, a kind of anger only felt by a caged animal. Fire Prince Zuko refused to roll over. He steeled himself, pushing himself off the blackened wood. “Hey!” He yelled, stepping out into the open. A small, nagging voice within him urged him to turn tail and run. Zuko mentally slapped himself, silencing his inner coward; it had no place here. His palms felt warm as he formed two spheres of fire. The flames flickered merrily, licking his wrists. 

The hunter turned slowly, readying themselves for a fight. Good. “Don’t think I’m done yet,” Zuko rasped, eyes narrowed. He was angry, but he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Not now. “Hope you’re ready to get hurt. I don’t go easy on people who try to kill me.”