A/N: This is my final round submission to the Pro Bending Circuit! Fingers crossed that we make it into semi-finals :] Hope you guys have enjoyed these interesting oneshots and shortfics. If you haven't already, feel free to check out my other four submissions (after you've read this one).

Write a character experiencing the same day over and over. They must be aware of this fact, but you can decide what they do with this information.

Character: Katara
Bonus Prompts: (Dialogue) Looks like it's gonna be a great brawl, (Restriction) Must interact with all five senses)
Team/Position: White Falls Wolfbats, Waterbender
Word Count: 2991 (ch 1 - 1227, ch 2 - 748, ch 3 - 936)

Serious creative license has been taken with the canon events because… I can't remember exactly what happened from the vague flashbacks we saw in the show. Oops.

Ripples Against a Tidal Wave

When Katara wakes up bundled in a pile of furs, she takes a minute to question it. She went to sleep in a sleeping bag by the fire not inside of her family's home. Reaching up to pull the furs off of her, Katara pauses to marvel at just how small her hands are. The understanding that this is a dream or surreal memory comes quickly enough when she hears a voice that steals her breath away.

"Good morning, my little lion seal," Kya said. Her smiling face shimmers in Katara's eyes until Katara blinks away the burgeoning tears.

"Mom!" Katara slips easily into the morning routine, wriggling out from the furs to give her mother a hug. Hakoda enters their home, a fresh line of fish slung over his back. It will be dinner later that day. For now breakfast is fresh otter penguin eggs that cook up quickly in the skillet over the stove. Katara would normally run about the hut while her parents cook, but this morning she watches their every movement. Once Sokka grumbles his way awake they dig into the meal.

To question the dream is out of the question. It's so rare for Katara to truly recall what her mother looks and sounds like, never mind to feel the warmth of her against her face as Katara squishes herself once more to Kya's side. "What's the matter? Are you feeling alright?" her mother asks. She switches to concern, pressing a hand to Katara's forehead and cheeks.

"Nothing's wrong," Katara says. The smile on her face is bittersweet. She doesn't want to wake up. "Just wanted to hug you again."

Sokka scoffs in the way that only siblings can. "Don't be such a momma's girl. We were going to do fun things today, not just stay glued to Mom's side," he grumbles.

Sticking her tongue out at him is reflexive and childish; Katara wonders why she ever stopped doing it. Kya admonishes them both before helping them to put on fresh clothes for the day. "Go outside and find Gran Gran. I'm sure she has a new story or two for you to learn from. Unless you'd rather help clean up from breakfast?"

Both children are out of the hut in a flash. Katara tumbles into the snow immediately, a gleeful smile replacing the bittersweet one. The pillowy piles seem crystal clear and more beautiful than she ever thought snow could be. She's missed the South Pole. Of course she doesn't get very long to marvel at the snow she gathers into her palms; Sokka pelts her with an underhanded snowball to her back.

From there, it's a mad dash around the village, shrieking and mocking one another as they try to one-up the other. Sokka's older friends whoop and holler at him as they cross paths. They are too busy heading out to fish to join in the fray which is just fine by Katara. Sokka's taller than her and can run that much faster. He doesn't need any help.

The fight has to end eventually. Their mistake was getting too close to Gran Gran's home as the older woman grabs Katara by the ear. "Back in my day, young men and women didn't cause such a commotion before lunch," she insists. It's enough to make Katara sheepishly drop her two perfectly formed snowballs.

Sokka however is distracted, staring at the sky. One hand reaches up to point. "Why is the snow black?" he asks. Katara's heart hammers in her chest as she turns her face to the sky as well. He's not lying, which Katara had hoped he might have been. Soot falls down, gentle as feathers. The dream has turned to a nightmare.

It refuses to end, even as Katara recognizes now the day her brain has chosen to re-live. Shouts rise up over the village, calls for the warriors to gather at the packed snow walls. Gran Gran collects Sokka and Katara into her arms to usher them to her hut. Inside, Katara feels no joy at the familiar tapestries hanging on the walls or the carved figurines sitting at their eye line waiting to be played with.

"What's going on?" Sokka asks. "I gotta go with the other men!"

Fear alights in Gran Gran's eyes. Katara can feel it reflected in her own. Still, their grandmother is calm as she directs the children to settle deep in the hut under a pile of furs. It's hot there and Katara aches to take off her heavy parka. Only the gloves can come off without disturbing the cocoon that is hiding them from view. "You have to stay here, Sokka. Your job is to protect your sister. That's your warrior's task," Gran Gran insists.

Determination replaces worry on Sokka's face. He's nine and eager to prove that he can do what he needs to as a warrior. Katara can't believe how little has changed with the set of his jaw or the crease in his brow. Her mouth aches to tell them that they're not hiding the right person. But she's frozen by the vividness of the memory and can only clutch the thick fur hide tighter in her palms.

It's silent for a while then. Gran Gran remains in the hut, occasionally shifting where she sits. She has no weapons - all available spears and pikes are at the walls.

Katara can hear her own blood pounding. It's only a few minutes longer, she's certain. Soon there will be boots in the snow; armored ones, not the stitched and oiled ones that the village cobbler makes from the softest, warmest leathers.

The screams seem softer than Katara remembered. She has to strain to hear as men and women alike come to blows in the distance. The wall is breeched. The Fire Nation has massive steel noses on the fronts of their ships that can smash through ice flows. The village's defenses never stood a chance.

Once the noise starts, everything races along at a breakneck pace. There are demands from the invading Fire Nation soldiers to round up specific families. Gran Gran is dragged away, kicking and struggling. Sokka clutches Katara around the middle to keep her from revealing that she's here. She's the one that they want.

It takes too long to fight away from Sokka's grip. Katara can feel the time skipping past her as she stumbles through the snow to return to their family home. She knows what she is going to see, but still she has to get there faster. Maybe this time she can do something different. It's taken too long for her to question the dream, the memory she's been locked into.

Maybe this time she can stop her mother from dying.

Katara's chest heaves and the ground in front of her narrows as hyperventilation steals her sight away. It takes so long to cover the ground she and Sokka had so gleefully run that morning. She staggers through the entrance to their home, past the torn fabric that kept in the warmth of their cook fire.

The man stands over her mother's corpse, eddies of flame still curling around his fist.

And Katara wakes from her nightmare.

She can smell eggs cooking on a skillet, not flesh burning. Furs tumble from her shoulders as she shoots up in bed.

"Morning, little lion seal. That's quite the wake up!"