Bet you guys thought I had abandoned this story. Nope, I just decided to take it in a new direction. Leave some empty spaces in the past book for this book to fill.
If you're just tuning in, you can read the first book of this series "Book One—The Beginning of the End" in my stories. You don't have to though and it might even be better if you didn't just so that the plot lines can be revealed. It's only six chapters long and flip-flops between Zuko and Katara's POVs in their childhood. The last two chapters ended in a cliff-hanger.
The last you saw of Zuko, he was challenged to an Agni Kai by his grandfather, Sozin. We all know how that ended up without having to fill in the blanks, but this book will anyway because I made a few changes from the actual series.
In the very last chapter from Katara, Paku informed her that she was being trained for war. Since then, her mother has been taken from her in a Fire Nation raid and six years have passed.
With that little side note, Book Two has now begun.
Chapter One—Gone Tomorrow
Some days, the sting of hurt Katara felt whenever she recalled her mother was dull and throbbing, stagnated from years of reliving the treacherous night she was taken. But other days the wound was piercing and fresh, tasting corrosive and bitter.
The latter was less common, but today it burned a hole in her throat.
When she had awoken, Katara had stared hard at herself in the mirror and, with fierce determination, swore upon death she wouldn't cry. Not this year. Not now. She had already cried enough tears the past two weeks, overwhelmed with news of her destiny, consumed with the burden of her predetermined fate. Fear laced with her newfound encumbrance mingled with the sadness that always weighed on her shoulders like a wet cloak this time of year: the anniversary of her mother's disappearance.
Katara had dressed warmly, as was necessary in the Watertribe, but her feverish stupor left her hands clammy and her neck damp with sweat. Adorned in a parka hanging to her knees, she had set out and trudged in the snow, three flowers clenched between her gloved fingers. The walk was a familiar one, as it had been a custom of hers for the past six years to leave snow poppies, her mother's favorite, on her tombstone.
Her mother had always loved snow poppies. For days she would sit and sketch them, stroke their petals, and sniff their sweet aroma until she was called away. She even called Katara her little Snow Poppy. They were common, as they were the only flowers that could survive the harsh winter climate, but to Katara's mother, they might as well have been the rarest plant to ever grow from the ground.
Katara refused to love them after the day she was taken. The smell alone made her feel sick to her stomach.
Memories of her mother, weaving in and out of recollections form the morning's activities, swarmed her mind as she caught sight of the spot from which her mother's stone stood. Her heart sank with every step her feet took, which had grown heavy in her boots.
Three steps more. Two more. One.
There it was.
The cold granite slab that represented so much to her was right below her, casting a short shadow on the snow. The carved words had accumulated so much snow in their crevices that Katara had to bend down and fish them out, wiping away the flecks of icy cotton. The phrases, unchanged, held the same gripping impact on her heart as they did the first time she read them:
KYA
Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother
MAY SHE REST PEACEFULLY WHEREVER SHE LIES
That last phrase dug deep in Katara. It embedded itself into her soul and plagued her mind daily.
"Wherever she lies."
Everyone reluctantly gave up the search for Kya after a few months of searching. She was no longer considered lost. She was now gone, taken, her soul forever merged with the moon (as the Watertribe believed). It made every night harder for Katara to stand, knowing that her mother was gazing down at her and reaching out a beam to caress her cheek as she slept.
The idea made fresh tears burn her eyes.
Katara looked hard at the flowers in her hand. Those despicable flowers that her mother had loved so dearly. She shakily drew one of them from her fist and studied it. The purple core faded into the ghostly white which chilled into a light blue at the tips of the petals, the flower itself frostbitten. The hard stem was naturally gray, but it somehow looked more alive than the brilliant greens of the Earth Kingdom daisies.
She lowered the poppy onto the stone, her back creaking as she stooped. "One from Dad. He misses you so much. He probably visited you late last night, but… he forgot the flowers." Her lips quivered into a miniscule smile. She plucked another from her hand and laid it down. "One from Sokka and Aang. Sokka is still as ambitious as ever. He's talking about making a ship you can sail underwater." She shook her head and allowed a small huff of a laugh.
"And Aang… well, you don't know him. He's an ambassador from the Air Nation. The few Airbenders who survived their raid have come here recently, looking for a merger and…" Image of the Avatar flashed in her mind—his blue arrow tattoo, his sweet smile, the blue and orange necklace he presented to her—and she clenched her eyes shut to block out the memories. "He's really nice, Mom. You'd like him. He's the Avatar, too, so I think it would make a lot of sense if I… if we…" Tears welled back up and she commanded them to recede.
"And one… one from me." Katara twirled the flower slowly in her hand. She had no more comments to say, so she quickly dropped it on the stone. She kneeled before it, the snow crunching beneath her knees, and she kissed the top of it while clutching the betrothal necklace that had once belonged to Kya. "I love you, Mom."
Katara stood, turned, and started running back toward the village, afraid of her own words. Emotions flashed in her just as distant silhouettes of mountains and snow dunes rushed by. A tear escaped down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily, furious with herself for not fulfilling her promise.
A sudden loss in footing through her into the pillows of ice. The instant stabbing shock of the cold bit her face. Her hood had been thrown back by the wind and tendrils of wind shimmied down her spine and made her fingers curl. A few more tears slid out behind her tightened eyelids, jumping at her sudden loss of control. Katara slowly lifted her head, shuddering. The wind was blowing the snow so hard you could barely see the black figure standing a great distance away.
Katara's eyes hazily focused on the shadowy profile. It stood silently, motionless. Her eyes stared at the figure. She couldn't make out any distinct details—a face, hair, clothing—as she scanned the observer. It was watching her.
A few moments passed before the silhouette turned and was soon blanketed in the fog.
The girl lay still in the snow, too afraid and disheveled to move. She shakily pushed herself up and stood, her knees knocking at the sudden weight. She stared off in the direction that the figure had stood and found nothing but mounds of snow, swept by the wind.
Was it possible she was so emotionally whacked out that she was imagining things?
With the little strength she had left, she ran to the village, spurred on by fear of her unknown onlooker. When she arrived in the safety of the village, she did not stop to acknowledge those who threw greetings to her as she walked by. She ignored the bows and odd looks she received as she blew past the villagers and heaved into her igloo. She didn't stop running until she arrived in her room, where she put her back against the wall and sank to the floor.
Panting rang out in the otherwise silent house. Katara gasped shakily for air. She pulled her hood back off her head and let her face be warmed by the house's steady heat. She presently peeled off her large parka and threw it on a hook in her room, letting it defrost. She sat in front of the mirror and gazed at herself.
Well, she was a mess.
Her hair, which she had pulled into a braid before she had left this morning, now resembled a frayed knot with strands poking out all around her head. She quickly let it flow down her shoulders. A pang of sadness resounded in her chest as she picked up her brush and gently pulled it through her hair, just as her mother did whenever she ran to her in a thunderstorm. It was soon smoothed to its original wavy texture. She pulled it back into a loose ponytail and stared at her face.
She looked just as she had this morning, except her cheeks were frostbitten and red— same nose, just like her mother's; same mocha colored skin; same wavy hair; even the same heart-shaped face and long eyelashes, all deriving from her mother. Her dark blue eyes and thin lips came from her father, but besides his subtle contributions she remained dangerously close in resemblance to her mother.
Though her image had recently become something completely different to everyone else, she touched that glass and reassured herself it was still her. She did not see a savior or a redeemer or anyone remotely noble as everyone had revealed her to be, but she did see herself and, in turn, her mother.
Katara wandered into the kitchen, which used to always smell deliciously of fish or sea prunes. The thought made her mouth water and her heart throb. She saw nothing was cooking, no toys were littered on the floor, no sound could be heard in the entire igloo besides the ones she induced. The home that normally made her feel so secure and welcome seemed foreign and empty. Loneliness seeped through her bones.
"Katara?"
Katara jumped at the sound of her name and she turned to see Aang standing in the doorway. He had changed into a blue parka similar to one Katara had seen Sokka wore and she suddenly missed the yellow and orange clothes he had worn when he first arrived. The pastels had contrasted so radically that it made him look comical, but it had definitely brightened every room he was in.
"Hello, Avatar Aang." Katara bowed in reverence.
"You don't have to be so formal, Katara. We know each other well enough to not have to do that whole thing." Aang gave her a lopsided grin. He took a step forward and gave a small hug. Katara blushed a little at burst of contact, but she returned it distantly.
"I was wondering if you were okay." The Avatar sat down on the small wicker chair near the fireplace, his eyes remaining fixed on Katara. "I asked one of the sentries if they had seen you today when the meeting let out and he said you charged into here like a moose-lion was after you."
The realization that people had seen her in her disheveled state, running through the streets like a madwoman, sunk in and she was immediately embarrassed. That's typically not an image people want to see, especially when that madwoman is supposed to be their Savior.
"I'm fine, I promise." Katara ran a hand through her hair.
"Good, good."
An awkward silence ensued. Aang looked at her intently and Katara politely stared back.
"…How are you?" Katara asked. "That's it, Katara. Good. Good job." She thought, congratulating herself for her brilliance in keeping the conversation going.
"Good, alright." Aang nodded casually before falling back into silence. Katara steeled herself for another lengthy silence, but instead Aang spoke again. "Your necklace."
Great. He was bringing up his betrothal necklace again. "No, Aang, please, understand me. It's just that I want to get to know you a little more before I commit to anything like that. I mean, I know I don't have much choice, but—"
"Whoa, whoa." Aang held up his hands. "I wasn't talking about mine. I meant the one you always wear."
Katara's hand instinctively traveled up to where the necklace was normally secured, but instead held bare skin under her fingertips. Her stomach boiled in sudden panic as she raced to the bathroom and stared hard in the mirror.
The necklace was gone.
Her nails dug into the skin around her neck, searching for it in the folds of her collar, but nothing was there. She ran into her room and ripped up the bed, tossing sheets and pillows behind her. She made small frantic gasps and hope welled inside of her with each shift of the fabric, only to fall back in a crash of disappointed worry when it failed to reveal itself.
Perhaps it was in her parka? No.
Perhaps it fell off when she tripped in the snow? She knew she had put it on this morning.
Sickening worry flooded her. It was gone. The one thing tangibly left from her mother was gone. How could she not have noticed it wasn't around her neck when she was looking in the mirror? Maybe because it had become so naturally associated with her facial features that it seemed like it was a part of her.
"It's ok. We'll find it." Aang's voice surprised her for the second time that day. Katara looked up at him, the tears she had forced down earlier springing back up. Genuine concern glinted in his eyes and he placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I promise."
Katara nodded and hung her head.
Aang soon departed and she was left alone once again in the unearthly silence of the house. Hakoda and Sokka would return from the meeting in a little while and the sounds of the scuffling feet would once again fill the quiet, but none of it seemed to matter anymore. The one part of her mother she could touch and hold was gone.
Katara flopped onto her side on her bed and stared at the floor. Moisture filled her line of vision and soon all she could see were fuzzy outlines of her room. Her resolve broke and she released the tears. They ran unceasingly until she fell asleep.
Katara felt a hand on her cheek and slowly stirred from her slumber. Her dad's face came into view through her half-lidded eyes. Her vision was hazy from her abrupt consciousness, but she could tell from the way the room was invaded with darkness that it was late.
"Katara, honey, I'll be back in a little while, ok? Something has come up with the council and I need to meet with them." His deep voice invaded her mind and she slowly processed what he was saying. She managed a tiny smile and nodded before he kissed her forehead and headed out the door. She liked how he let her know what he was doing, even if it meant being woken up. In a way, it was like a reminder that he cared enough about her to let her known where he was going and when.
She swung her legs over the side of her bed and groggily stumbled to the bathroom. Maybe a nice quick bath would calm her nerves. She plugged the tub and began pulling water up out from the pipes that connected to their hot water supply below their igloo. Hot water began streaming into the tub. As it filled, Katara stripped off her clothes and went to unclip her necklace before the realization sunk into her stomach.
Oh. Right.
Katara glumly stepped into the tub and let the hot water sooth away her stress. These days were never easy, but this might have been the hardest one yet. She waterbended the steaming liquid around to distract her. The steam fogged up the mirror and made small beads of sweat dot her forehead.
After her soak, she dried herself off (with the help of her waterbending) and slipped into her pajamas. Now comfy and relatively peaceful, she glided herself under the covers of her bed.
The wind had stopped blowing and now a soft snow fell quietly outside. The creamy moon perched overhead guarded the village protectively, encouraging all the sleep soundly. The silence, before heartbreaking, made Katara sigh. A good night's rest would do her good.
Creek.
Katara's eyes snapped open. The sound came from the living room. She slowly shifted upward, resting on her elbows. She listened intently and was rewarded with eerie quiet. Was she imagining things again?
Katara snuggled back under her blankets when another creek was heard. Then a soft thud, followed by another, and yet another. Footsteps.
Katara slowly stood from the bed, careful not to make any noise. She tiptoed to the wall connecting her room and the living room. She kept her back to the wall and soundlessly bent a stream of water from the basin she kept on her nightstand into her hand.
Katara took a breath, and then quickly rounded the corner of the wall.
Nothing but darkness greeted her, softened by the lift of a candle flickering on the counter.
She sighed and turned and her eyes met a tall body. Her eyes widened as it took in a blue mask in the shape of a disfigured monster. She figure knocked her to the ground and towered over her.
"Who are you?!" Katara breathed, terrified.
"Someone you owe." The figure growled, raising a club. "Greatly."
All fell black.
Welcome to Book Two. Zutara stuff actually happens in this book. So what do you guys think? Are you happy I'm starting up again? XD Thank Agni for summer!
~Keep Calm, Leaf On