Chapter 1
The cold water sent shivers up Katara's spine as it rushed up her ankles, seeping into the sand around her feet. The beach was cold today, and foggy—but it was the only thing that made her forget about the war anymore. If she wasn't at the beach, staring out at the water, her head would be filled with thoughts and memories, sweeping her up in their tide. She absentmindedly fiddled with the charm around her neck—a single sapphire hanging on a silver chain—as she continued to stare at the horizon. The necklace had been her mother's, before the first invasion… But Katara wasn't thinking about that now. She was thinking about the horizon. The horizon. The horizon.
She didn't stop looking at the horizon until a voice broke her train of thought. "Can we go now?" it said. "It's all… Sandy here." Katara sighed.
"Sokka, it's a beach," she replied. "Of course it's sandy." She turned around and stared at him. His hair was back in its usual weird ponytail thing (she never quite understood why he had it, but it seemed to suit him), a barbell going through his eyebrow and three rings at the top of his left ear. The other day she thought she saw him with a lip ring, but she might have been wrong. It was always something new anyway, so if he didn't have a lip ring then, he probably would soon.
"Well, it's getting on me, and it's gross," he said with a pout. Katara stared down at his muddy, ripped, old jeans; his scuzzy, second-hand Dr. Martens; his ratty, stained, disintegrating wife-beater and said, "I think you'll be okay." He sighed, and Katara gave him a slight smile.
"Just a few more minutes, okay?" she asked in the sweetest voice she could muster.
"…Okay," he conceded. How could he not? She was just his sweet little sister. He couldn't say no to that, especially since he knew how much that beach meant to her. Even though this sand was really gross.
A car sputtered behind them. Katara was surprised—who else would be on the beach on a day like this but her?—but didn't look back at whoever had pulled up. She was still focusing on the horizon. There were some clanks behind her and the sound of rope, and in a few seconds the person from the car was walking past her.
He was a somewhat scrawny, somewhat muscular kid of about sixteen. He had on orange trunks and a brown beanie with a large blue arrow going across it. Under his left arm, he was carrying an orange surf board.
Katara looked out to the ocean.
The waves were… Insane.
Surfing on days like this… Simply wasn't done. Ever. Not by anyone sensible, that is.
In a stupor, Katara turned around and looked at Sokka. He was looking from the kid to the waves, back and forth, until Katara caught his eye.
"He's not…" she said, trailing off as she watched the kid walk into the sea.
"He can't be…" Sokka said.
"I think he is," Katara said, shocked.
"Katara, he's not going to—OH MY GOD, WHAT IS HE DOING?!" Katara looked out at the kid. He was swimming out on his board toward a monstrous wave. He stood up on the board, about to catch the wave…
But then the wave caught him. It swallowed him whole, board and all.
Katara gasped and got up from the sand, running frantically out to sea. "KATARA!" Sokka yelled, running behind her, "KATARA, GET BACK HERE! YOU CAN'T GO OUT THERE! WE HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE OR SOMETHING! KATARA!" But it was too late; she was already fighting against the waves to the kid. She gulped down what felt like gallons of the icy water, looking for the kid every time she came up for air, but there was no sight of him. She would have guessed that he was far into the depths of the sea by now if her foot hadn't hit something. She gasped, and quickly dove. The water stung her eyes, but she pried them open into brine. Just below her, she saw a hand floating away softly, slowly, peacefully. Frantically, she grasped onto it, pulling herself back up to the surface and taking a gulp of air. She started swimming back to the beach, not realizing until then just how far away it was, and how heavy this kid was. Her jeans were weighing her down—why hadn't she taken off her clothes before she came out here?—and one of her sneakers slipped off her foot. She swam as hard as she could—she had to get back to the beach—she had to save this kid…
As soon as her feet hit sand, she picked the kid up and carried him back to where Sokka was, looking white as a sheet. He just stood there, looking at her and the kid in a stupor. She laid the kid down on the beach and put her ear to his chest.
"He isn't breathing," she said gravely. Sokka pushed her aside, and pushed on the kid's chest. Nothing happened.
"Sokka, what are you doing?" Katara asked.
"Trying to get him to breathe!" he said, still pushing on the kid's chest. Sokka slapped the kid hard across the face and yelled, "BREATHE, DAMMIT, BREATHE!"
"Sokka!" Katara gasped, recoiling.
"What? It always works in the movies!"
"Move over—I know I've only been in med school a few months, but CPR is one thing we've done." She pushed him out of the way, opened the kid's mouth, and began to do CPR. Soon enough, the kid coughed, abruptly sat up, and spat out some water. He continued to cough, hunched over and eyes watering, until it seemed all the fluid was out of his lungs. He turned around and looked at Katara… Smiling widely.
"Hi!" he said happily, "I'm Aang."
