“Our forces waited in the valley, for the days to become long again. And one evening, I left my tent, and caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I went to the borders of camp to see what it was. And what did I find? The most amazing of swallowflies, darting about the stones! They usually wait for the spring, you know. This one must have hatched early, or it must have been otherworldly, for it was larger than any I had ever seen and its tails held color like a ring around the moon the night before a snowstorm--”

“Uncle, did this really happen?”

“Yes, yes it really did. It took wing up the mountain side, and, believing it an omen for our good fortune in the spring, I followed it.”

“And you didn’t shoot it for your supper.”

“What do you take me for!”

“You’re making this up.”

“This is true. I only considered shooting it for my supper. Swallowfly is a delicacy. It is best on the coast, where they cook it with this amazing sauce that is made with--”

“Uncle.”

“Gifts from beyond our world are meant to fill a greater thing than our stomach, Prince Zuko. It invites poor, poor luck to do away with such things out of rashness or impatience. I followed it up the side of the mountain. It was not an easy climb, and many times I almost slipped. It was a slow journey, but never once did the swallowfly slip out of my sight. It was nearly dawn when I reached a ledge, one that overlooked the whole valley. I could see the smoke from the camp. The swallowfly landed, and in the first light of the rising sun I saw…”

“You saw what? An enemy encampment? A messenger bird? What?”

“The leaves of a mysterious plant, poking through the snow.”

“No.”

“Which turned out to make—“

“No.”

“--one of the rarest and tastiest teas I have ever had!”

“…Uncle, I am going to bed.”