Excerpt: Book 4: Air

Perhaps even more unsettling, however, were the possum-chickens.
There were four of them, squatting in a straight line, directly behind Puon-Tim. Strapped to their heads were small helmets, each sporting a small square of parchment. They stared intently at Puon-Tim, never taking their eyes from him. As the director paced, infuriated, back and forth before the stage, their little heads and beady eyes followed him.
For a moment, the friends could only stare at the odd sight.
Puon-Tim paced left; the possum-chickens’ heads swiveled to follow.
The director spotted them out of the corner of his eye, but pointedly ignored them. He jerked back to the right.
The possum-chickens turned to keep him in sight.
“Stop!” he hollered at his actors. “Do it again! All over! From the top!” he screeched.
In unison, the possum-chickens flapped their wings, threw back their heads and squawked.
The noise sounded almost exactly like the director’s cry.
Aang and Katara clapped hands over their mouths to keep from laughing out loud. Zuko shook his head.
Still keeping his back to the possum-chicknes, Puon-Tim stuffed his fingers in his ears until they settled.
“ACTION!!!”
Aang, Katara, and Zuko approached stealthily. As they drew nearer, they could see that the parchments on the possum-chickens’ heads said something. They spelled out:
Fail.
“Yikes,” Aang whispered. “No wonder this guy’s in a mood.”
Katara giggled.
Aang cautiously tapped the director on the shoulder. “Exuse me. Mr. Puon-Tim?”
Paun-Tim jumped at the touch. A small shriek escaped him. He whirled on Aang, clutching at his heart. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”
The rehearsal on the stage froze as the actors turned to see what was happening.
Zuko saw this as a miracle.
Aang started to mention the undoubtedly heavy workload, perhaps the shortness of employed hands…but curiosity got the better of him. “What’s with the possum-chickens?”
Puon-Tim scowled. He glanced at the possum-chickens. At the sight of his glowering, beet-red face, the possum-chickens erupted in their screeching, flapping their wings frantically. Puon-Tim quickly turned away and they fell silent.
“Infernal madman!” he spluttered.
One of the actors –Sokka, by the look of the ridiculous ponytail- rolled his eyes. “Here we go…”
Another, who looked like she might have been playing Katara, slapped her forehead. “Not again!”
“Cursed eccentricity!” Puon-Tim bellowed. “If the old coot didn’t like my play, he could have kept it to himself!”
Aang clamped back a bout of laughter. It suddenly made sense; these trained possum-chickens had ‘mad genius’ written all over them.
“King Bumi didn’t like your play, huh?” he guessed, trying to sound sympathetic.
Katara was forced to turn her back to hide her expression; Zuko’s eyes bulged, and he coughed violently.