This was my first Avatar Fanfic I ever wrote. In Spanish this fic has 2 chapters, but they are so short that I combined them to make a "longer" oneshoot. Thanks a lot to 3VAD127 for helping me transtaling my work =D.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Avatar: TLA or any character involved to it.


I know the sound of your steps so well—that weird way you put one side of your foot down first, and then you let the weight of your body rest on the other side. It makes a very peculiar sound that I could recognize even from several miles away.

I am familiar with the sound of your breathing. When you're calm, when you snort angrily at my sarcastic comments, when you're asleep.

Your heartbeats make their own music: with rage in a battle, almost in silence when we have to hide, even the soft whisper your heart makes when you dream about her… remember her.

Your voice… what a curious sound! How… wonderful… I would stop listening for any Fire Nation ambush just to pay attention to the tiniest murmur from your mouth.

The voice of authority that reveals the great warrior you are, that sarcastic voice I can recognize before you even make a sound.

Your smell was so easy to memorize. In these days, it's hard to find someone who smells like penguin-seal furs and stewed sea prunes. That smell sometimes makes me sick, and at times, I don't know if the dizziness is due to nausea or the butterflies in my stomach.

But… I don't know your face yet…

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I am intimate with the pale shade of your skin—your pearl-colored forehead mixed with the jade of your eyes, the shape of your delicate lips, and that beautiful velvet red color that your cheeks become when you suddenly pay attention to me and smile.

I have memorized each one of your locks of hair, and I know too well the size of your hands. For Tui and La's sake! Each of your tiny hands could fit in my palm.

I'm captivated by your silhouette, your smile, your stance. You stand so firmly, so bravely… and although you look so fragile and cute, you're as solid as the rocks you seem to come from when every morning, you stick your head out of your earth tent with your face and hair covered in dirt.

I've recorded your every move: the crude way you spit, swear, and dash; the way your movements are so soft when you talk; the way you eat so elegantly that you can't help but reveal your lineage. I love seeing you, looking at you, analyzing you… every external detail, everything my eyes can see.

But I don't know your heart yet…


Thanks for reading. I would love to recive some critiscism and comments.