Firefly.
Waves of dancing amber and gold shimmered, betraying subtle streaks of turquoise.
The flames were dying, though, tired by the dawning of the midnight hour. And, then, it exploded. Before her eyes could clearly register what had happened, the nodding campfire shot back to life, vibrant and bold. Startled by the shock of the new light, and by the overwhelming heat, the water bender's shoulders jumped backwards. The fire's glory slightly lessened, rocking into a steady flame that lit her vision. She gaped across the fire pit, her hands trembling from surprise. However, the only response the fire bender had offered her was a lifted eyebrow and curious frown–saying, without speaking, 'you've never seen fire bending'? With that, his eyes left hers and focused on the stone floor again.
Katara glanced a few feet behind her, where a clump of sleeping bodies nestled together that created one scrambled knot of snores, drool, and breathing. It would be awfully hard for Sokka, Katara mused, to rise in the morning with several sleeping bodies smashing him to the bottom of the group. To the side of the pile, Katara saw her father, lightly sleeping in an upright position, ready to move if an ambush arrived for them in the night. And, then, her eyes finally wandered back to Zuko's face. How his scar shimmered under the fire's touch awed her, and she felt the urge to get up and feel the burnt skin beneath her fingers, and she almost did–she scolded her legs for acting without consent afterwards, and promptly sat again.
Zuko glanced up, mildly interested.
Katara eyed him again, shedding an awkward and lopsided grin. Zuko was seemingly unimpressed and shot another flame into the campfire.
"So," Katara attempted sounding as friendly as possible to the jilted Fire Nation prince. It was not so much out of companionship than it was a solution to her insomnia–the two, fire and water bender, had both caught awful cases, only to squat in front of the fire, silent, for hours every night. Katara could no longer hide her restlessness, and she was not about to try trumping Zuko at his own game–deep thought and contemplation. She had enough of dreaming about Hamma and blood bending, her mother, of Jet, of her home and Gran-Gran, and of all the other things she had the time to think about until dawn. She was not the only insomniac, and she could not forget it, either. "That frown of yours is really ... really something…"
Zuko frowned. "I guess."
Katara bit her tongue, having gained nothing.
The fire hissed and sparked, drawing Katara's attention briefly. And, finally, natural conversation tingled on her lips. "Fire is really beautiful, don't you think?" She had not really meant to say it, it had just come out. However, the water bender finally found a sign of emotion cross Zuko's yellow eyes.
"It may be beautiful, but it's destructive." He sounded grim, talking about his element. Katara guessed he should know better than anyone. She, too, had seen the dangers of fire bending, the day Aang singed her hands. She nodded, adding.
"But there's something to be said for beauty." Her voice perked a bit, trying to assure Zuko that fire was not all bad–she may have been trying to convince herself, also. Zuko finally looked at her without a condescending eye.
"I guess, but you're a water bender; you don't understand."
Katara knew he was right, she did not really know, she only guessed.
Zuko paused, and then spoke. "Water is a healing element–it brings life, and harmony. That's what uncle used to always say. I think water was always his favorite element–it's calm, humble, and wise, like he is, and it has the power to extinguish fire."
Katara suddenly felt proud, as if just realizing the amazing gift GOD had given her. She was a water bender, a special people who commanded the seas and waters. She brought healing and peace where fire brought destruction and power. She felt special again, being a member of a rare people. She was a water bender. In those respects, she sympathized for fire benders, owning the force that dons nothing but pain.
"Sometimes I think uncle should have been born into the Water Tribe." Zuko circled the fire before them, into a swirl, feeding it.
Katara furrowed her brows, toying with the idea of General Iroh in water tribe garb. And, then it struck her, tracing over the prince's face, into his eyes …
"Was it hard?" Katara blurted. Unlike before, she did not hesitate to speak, and was genuinely curious.
Zuko stopped in his place, eyeing his fire-side companion. "What was hard?"
Katara touched her finger to her chin, searching for the proper wording. "Was it hard leaving her?"
Zuko thought her question a bit straight-forward, and frowned. What should he had expected from an un-educated peasant, who had lived in an igloo practically her entire life? He looked down, interested in the stone of the Air Temple again.
"Her?" Zuko's raspy voice barely spoke.
Katara hesitated, finally seeing the impact of her impertinence. "Sorry." She mumbled after moments of silence.
Zuko lifted his head, catching her blue eyes with his yellow–compositions of lightning and rain. "Yes and no." He answered, captivated by the fire's glow. "I cared for Mai and I know I hurt her, but,"
Zuko's voice stopped.
"But–?" Katara echoed curiously.
"Me and Mai," Zuko exhaled a long breath, "we just weren't right."
"Oh." Katara squeaked, petting a strand of her chocolate hair, glancing at Zuko's figure through the fire.
"What about you?" Zuko spoke up, subtle interested in his voice.
"Me?" Katara titled her head, touching a finger to her heart.
Zuko frowned. "I told you about Mai–there must be some peasant you left in your nation."
Katara sighed pathetically. "The only boys in my tribe were under ten, and, well– Sokka."
Zuko's eyes glared, bewildered by the sudden implication. The prince awed through the fire. "You– "
"No!" Katara exclaimed louder than she had meant to, prompting a stir of the huddled sleepers. She and Zuko carefully went silent, hesitating until the last movement faded. Toph shoved one elbow into Aangs's vegetarian ribs, and forced her foot across Haru's cheek. Finally, the group settled.
"No." Katara whispered loudly, pointing Zuko out. "We don't do that sort of thing in the Water Tribe. I was only saying that there were no appropriate boys in my village."
"Oh." Zuko's voice cracked unusually. "So, nobody liked you then?"
The water bender grew instantly insulted. "You jerk, of course." She corrected him proudly.
Zuko, although humbly listening, did not appear to be completely convinced by her amazing comeback. He scratched his head, smirked, and nodded. "I believe you."
With a steep frown, Katara growled. "Don't be so smug, there have been plenty."
"Oh?" Zuko lifted an eyebrow curiously. Katara, upon hearing his response, flushed.
"I am not like that, I just," She was confusing even herself now, "I just uh." Then it came to her, and, without thinking, she stated haughtily. "There's Jet, so there. "
Zuko grew less impressed with every comeback the peasant made. "Jet, huh?"
"Yes, Jet." Katara stated a bit sadly, recalling their final encounter.
"What happened?" Zuko questioned.
Katara took her time responding, collecting her thoughts. "Jet, he died in Ba Sing Se."
Zuko choked on his breath, clearly not expecting the fate of the peasant's love so … tragic. He frowned; he and Mai had, had a somber end, but he chided himself for teasing her about it now. At least Mai was still alive. Both benders grew silent, contemplating life, love, death, and the war–Katara was fonder now towards the idea of thought and contemplation. No more between them had been said, other than:
"I'm sorry." And, in his words, Katara heard more than just an apology.
The hours of silence rolled by, finally calling on the sunrise.
Hakoda was awed by the beauty of the thousands and millions of colors spilling into the sky–blues, pinks, purples, oranges, yellow, and everything else that so existed. He adored sunrise best, with its untamed beauty and majestic perfection, so perfect. He watched it every morning. Upon arrival, tradition called him to one of the Air Temple's parapets, which overlooked the sky every sunrise–in Hakoda's opinion it was the best spot to glimpse the dawning of the day. Hakoda had bragged to his daughter about it as well, who equally loved the celestial view.
However, something strange met the chieftain that particular morning. Carefully assessing the situation, Hakoda tip-toed backwards into the Air Temple halls–he would have to catch the sunrise somewhere else, he decided. In the middle of the balcony, his daughter soundly slept, and she had not done so in days. He sighed thankfully. Hakoda felt gratified to play any part as a father he could, and Katara resting up was something he had been paying special attention to. And although he would have liked to think so, her slumber was not a testament to his fatherly wisdom.
The chief concluded it had something to do with the fire bender who, equally tranquil, rested at her side.
This story is for Suki because she asked for this, and is one of the most crazed Zutara fangirls I know. Let's face it: I know it, you know it, and Aang knows it - Zutara will win in the end. My first Zutara, so, hopefully, it's okay. Zuko's character came out bad, though, sorry!
Happy Zutara week! By the way, I own nothing.
¤ composed by lunamaria.