Thief of Love

All standard disclaimers apply.

The wind on her face veil was soothing, calming, almost. Her mind was carefully blank; all that showed of her feelings was a determined look in her eyes.

Although Sokka had told her that she shouldn't use the Painted Lady costume anymore, this village needed it more than the last. The waterbender knew that the legend of the Painted Lady had spread like wildfire, and most towns they visited knew about the mysterious spirit.

The bread she had bought was carefully concealed in a fold of her cloak, as was the meat. She knew that it was hard for these river villages to get meat, and even harder for them to get bread, since their crops were failing. It would be a treat for them to eat something other than the usual meal of dried fish.

The mist that covered her arrival dissapeared when her sandaled feet landed softly on the dock of the village. She sighed softly; her arrival had gone undetected. One of the times she had gone out as the Painted Lady, the villagers had woken up and had tried to scare her away by pelting stones at her. It had worked a little too well... Sokka had been quiet curious about the bruises on her arms and legs. She had simply waved it off as something that had been there forever; he just hadn't noticed.

Katara made her way through the village, listening carefully for the slightest creak, the most insignificant lap of water. If she was caught again, it would all be over.

Her feet made almost no noise as she padded across the unsteady wood of the docks. The doorway to the main house was large, so she made it through without any unnecessary noise. Katara almost sighed in relief, but bit it back when a man stirred near her feet.

Taking small steps, she tiptoed her way around the sleeping bodies, ready to run if the need arose. Finally, she was there. She reached inside the ragged cloak and pulled out a loaf of bread. Next came the dried meat, and the healing herbs. Katara had spent days looking for the unfamiliar berries and leaves, but she knew that the sick village needed them.

After she deposited the food, she carefully made her way back to the front of the room. Taking a last glance through her veil, she walked out the doorway and jumped into the clear night air.

For a moment, she was flying. Flying, without a care in the world, without any worries or fear. Katara looked down, seeing the water rise up to meet her. With a deep breath, and a controlled motion, a good portion of the water rose up and changed into mist. Now, she could leave undetected.

She landed on a piece of ice that she formed, balancing carefully --if not gracefully-- on it. After a few moments of wind-milling, she steadied, and taking a deep breath, rose up into the air on her steed of rushing water.

Faster, faster she flew, almost as if she were airborne. Her troubles were left behind, as were her fears, her anger and hate.

They always said I was a forgiving person thought Katara. I guess they never saw the real me.

She sped down the river, leaving a damp mist where ever she went. Though she had no light, the moon guided her, as it always did.

Fire, the sun, light... They weren't her friend.

Water, the moon, dark... They were her true companions.

When she got back to the camp, it was quiet, everyone in silent slumber. Trying to be as quiet as she could, she tiptoed back to her sleeping bag, before she realized she still had the costume and paint on of the Painted Lady. Cursing softly, she made her way back to the silent river, taking off her cloak, veil and hat as she went.

Soon, she was down to her wraps. The cool air caressed her warm skin like a forgotten lover, inciting the most delicious feeling of peace from her. The trees rustled, sending leaves into the night air. She sighed, breathing in the scent of Mother Nature.

Katara stepped into the cold river, shivering slightly when she got in. Controlling her body's reaction to the cold, she bended a stream of water up into the air, letting it cascade down on her unprotected body.

It was like bathing in a vat of ice water, but she endured it. Soon the red paint was off, and the river flowed red, if only for a second. The waterbender flicked a piece of dried paint off from a nearby rock, watching it float down the street.

I never did like red.

Katara got out of the water and dressed, bending the water off of her body with a fluid motion. She hurriedly hid her costume in her pack, praying to the spirits that the Aang and the others wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Please, please...

She smiled in relief when she got back to the camp. Everyone was sleeping peacefully; her fears were unfounded. Katara walked over to her sleeping bag, crawling in with the weariness of one who was drained in both body and soul.

Katara stared at the moon, listening quietly to the sounds of slow breathing around her.

The sun and the moon... Have they always been so different? Polar opposites, two halves of the same whole... They share the same sky, circling together, but never meeting...

Her eyes fluttered lazily, watching silently, wishing, wondering.

Against her will, her eyes shut, closing off any thoughts about the moon and the sun. Closing off all thoughts, even the unwanted ones.

"Katara,"

The waterbender groaned, turning over in her sleeping roll. Her night had been filled with unpleasant dreams. She couldn't remember much, but the only thing that remained clear were the colors; blue on a field of red and gold.

"Katara!"

The voice sounded irritated now, and was accompanied with a hand shaking her shoulder, shaking her awake. She didn't want to wake up... she was still enjoying the dreamy haze of sleep.

With a sigh, she got up, rubbing her eyes a little. The first thing that she saw was Sokka, sitting only a few paces away. "Sokka!" she growled, her eyes narrowing.

"Katara," he said, "this is serious."

She stopped her teasing, her blue eyes immediately softening. "What is it, Sokka?"

The nonbender hung his head, looking sad and powerless. The bad feeling that she had sensed before grew, until it made her feel queasy. "What is it, Sokka?" she repeated, her voice anxious. There were only a few things that would make Sokka look so defeated, so... hopeless.

"It's about Toph," he said, sounding worried, "she's getting worse."

Katara closed her eyes, praying to the spirits for the power to help her friend. Toph had been sick for a few days now, and wasn't getting better.

"Shit." she said calmly, her hands over her eyes. If their friend got any worse, they'd have to take her to a healer with medicine, and Katara knew that medicine would be hard to come by.

Sokka looked at her with concern in his eyes. "Katara," he said, "we'll help her. I know you can't heal her, but we'll find someone else."

She pretended not to notice the note of desperation in his voice, or the fact that his eyes said otherwise. "Yeah, Sokka," she said quietly, "of course we will."

A/N: Well. I'm just popping new fics up like mad, aren't I? After some good (and some bad) feedback on my PL x BS one-shot, I've decided to kind of use that plot, and twist it into a larger fic. This first chapter was going to be longer, but I'm just too tired right now. Give me some feedback on whether you'd read a fic like this, and if you want me to continue, or anything. If you guys don't want me to, I won't. -shrug- If you do, I'd love to make this a long fic. I'll try and have long chapters, and yeah! Feedback is good. Be brutal and harsh. XD Tell me if I'm moving too fast, cuz I'll cut out stuff if I am.

Oh, and I was going to make this a more darker, sad fic (but with a happy ending), with more angst, but if more people watn a happy happy fic, let me know.

Su-Su