She stumbled as she backed into the village walls.
"Nowhere to run, little girl."
Zhao was big. His shoulders were wide, chest up, fire in his palms. There was a craziness in his eyes. Eagerness.
Soot was falling. The huts were burning behind him. Blood soaking into what was once white snow. Herone glance over his shoulder was enough time for him to lunge forward and slam her into the icy wall. She screamed, but there was no one to hear her.
His fingers were wrapped around her neck like an iron grip. A hot, iron grip with bluntnails digging into her skin, a manic grin spread across his face. He was laughing wildly, his amber eyes flashed with triumphas he watched her struggling for air.
Her lungs burned. She tried prying his hands away, but she was losing strength, and he was pushing her deeper into the wall. She strained. He was going to snap her neck. He was going to crush her throat, watch her choke to death.
He was insane. felt the life leaving her. She was fading out. Katara tried to focus on the sky. She'd rather die with her gaze fixed on the heavens than on Zhao's face.
She felt the last of her breaths leaving her, ready to join the rest of her people in the spirit realm. Shewas ready for death.
But then he dropped her, as if startled. That burning grip left her throat, and she fell to the ground with a lifeless thud. She could hear shouting, and there was fire being exchanged overhead, but it was all lost to her.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and with a shallow breath, darkness enveloped her.