It's so cold.
It's never bothered her before, the torrential downpours of snow, the chill that cuts through every layer of clothing you throw up to it, the crunch underneath your feet of the world's coldest.
No. It's never bothered her before, not until now.
Tenzin will come get her, tell her she's getting too old to just wander off, and she'll let him.
He's so like Aang. Like Aang was. She stumbles through the blizzard, huddled into her parka, unable to process anything other than the cold. Her hands are numb; her heart is numb.
They didn't know; they didn't understand. Sokka could tell her all he wanted that he was sorry, that the world would never be the same without Aang, but they couldn't feel what she was feeling.
The all-encompassing emptiness. Yes. That's been getting to her more and more since yesterday. It's not a hole in her heart, like her dad had once told her it would be, losing the one you love. No. She knows he was wrong. There is a hole, but it's filled with darkness, with a cadence as sure as her heartbeat, reminding her over and over - he's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.
There's a baby somewhere, maybe in this very pole, crying and screaming, and Aang is in there somewhere.
No. He's gone, gone in all of his kindness, in his understanding, in his good heartedness.
He's gone. A sob threatens to bubble over in her throat, and Katara pushes against the wind. The wind… the wind. The things Aang would do with it, how he would dance the breeze around them, around Kya when she was a baby, how it would bring joy to everyone.
Her heart thumps, and it amazes her how it's all she's focused on as the world rages around her. It beats in her chest, and she is reminded once again.
Aang is dead. Aang is dead. He's not coming back. He's not coming back.
The lump in her throat subsides as she lets herself cry, lets herself grieve.
Maybe that's why she's so cold, she reasons. Because Aang's arms aren't around me, because he's not there with his warmth and his energy.
For the first time in a long time, Katara feels weak.
Her legs aren't as strong as they used to be, she acknowledges as she tires. But she won't stop. She needs time, time away from the mourners with their condolences, away from Tenzin and Pema, away from them all.
But time won't solve anything. Yes, it will. In time, you'll be gone too. It's a horrible thought, and she hates herself for thinking it. Suddenly, anger. Anger, blinding everything. It's not fair; it's not right, that she didn't get to die right next to him, that she had to be the one to live longer, not fair that she had to watch him fade away.
Katara pulls her hands from beneath her parka, pushing them out with as much force as she can muster, screaming to the heavens as all of the snow bursts away from her.
She falls to her knees, screams dwindling into sobs, sobs that wrack her whole body and render her useless.
Yes. She's cold