She hates the cold.
It bites into her skin and freezes the tears on her lashes.
There is a still heap in front of her, covered in a deep blue blanket. The mass of blue refuses to move- it is frozen, much like the glaciers surrounding her home.
Glaciers are cold and unmoving.
Much like her mother.
She feels nothing but the bitter cold, no matter how many furs she may don.
The women of the village had wrapped her mother's body in all of her furs and braided her hair (whatever was left of it.)
She grabs her mother's hand, hoping beyond hope that her mom will squeeze back.
Her mother's hand, once brown and warm, is now pale and icy.
It is cold.
They leave her body in the snow, covered in that thick blue blanket, and pile sticks and rocks on top of her.
She is stuck in the snow, in the cold.
Her brother's hand does nothing to warm her, and neither does her father's tight embrace.
She hates the cold.
It is cold and calm, and life is moving slowly. Just like those damned glaciers.
Her father's passing is just as unbearable as her mother's.
Again, the cold is merciless.
His body is yet another blue heap on the permafrost, covered in sticks and rocks to keep the animals away.
Sokka's and Aang's arms around her do not keep the cold out, nor does it stop the tears from leaving icy streaks down her cheeks.
Her children grab onto her skirts, their wails piercing the arctic air.
They do nothing to warm her, to awaken her motherly instinct. They sniffle, they cry, the hug her, they tell her they love her- yet she does not react.
Sitting in the snow next to her father's body, she feels the chill bite into her bones.
It is familiar.
Yet she still hates the cold.
There is a blizzard tearing apart Republic City.
Sokka passes away peacefully that night.
Katara prepares him for burial and dresses his lifeless body in his finest outfit. Warm furs adorn his shoulders, and whale bone jewelry surround his fingers and neck.
She picks up his boomerang; it is cold in her palms.
Just like her brother's hands.
His face is solemn and frozen- she will never see him grin again, she will never hear his voice, she will never yell back at him for being sarcastic.
After his burial, much of the city pays their respects for their beloved councilman.
Her tears stick to her lashes and cheeks- a feeling that is too familiar to her by now. Aang keeps her close, his own cries digging in to her like knives.
Her children wail over the loss of their uncle.
She collapses into the snow beside her brother's fresh grave, sobbing and yelling and punching at the slush.
Katara cries towards the sky, cursing La for being so selfish and taking her big brother.
She hates him for leaving.
But she hates the cold more.
Aang's passing is the worst.
The rain is freezing.
For four days, the acolytes gather around his body- unmoving- and recite special verses. The rains never cease, and keep the entire city in a chilly haze.
After the fourth (cold) day, his body is set ablaze.
There is fire and warmth and light everywhere- Aang's pyre, candles, torches, the hugs from grieving friends and family. It is just the way he would have wanted it.
But his smile is forever gone, and so is the warmth and light that were in her life.
Tenzin, with his face set into a grim line, helps to scatter his father's ashes to the chilly winds.
She shivers as she realizes their son is the last airbender.
Again, her children (and their children) cling to the matriarch. She is shielded from the freeze by her family, their bodies forming a soft and warm igloo; yet all she feels is ice.
Katara is left alone, and dangles her feet over the ledge of one of Air Temple Island's cliffs. A breeze blows up from the raging ocean below, and it frosts her to the core.
She ignores her family's pleas to come back inside. However, she is unafraid of the weather, and she does not care if she gets sick.
She is cold.
She hates it.
Returning to the Southern Water Tribe may have been a mistake.
It is freezing, and it makes her old bones stiff and achy.
Korra is gone, off to keep peace and travel the world with her friends. It leaves a hole in Katara's chest, but she knows she must do it.
She is in her home, a massive fire roaring in the corner. A steaming cup of broth is near her bedside, and she is wrapped in a nest of furs and blankets and pillows.
She feels cold; nothing but the cold.
She knows she is dying, yet she is not scared.
This time, she does not hate the cold.
She welcomes it.
Once she leaves her body, there is light everywhere.
She steps into her husband's warm embrace, and is later engulfed by the warm arms of her friends and family.
There is nothing but happiness and warmth and light.
She welcomes it, and she loves every second of it.
In that moment, Katara knows she will never face the cold again.
Note: My friend has persuaded me to get back into writing. Input is greatly appreciated- good and bad! :) Thank you for reading!