Dawn in the North Pole was truly a sight to see. The early rays turning the icy water shades of pink and yellow, light chasing away the last strands of darkness that always seemed to linger, and the slight change in temperature that served as a reminder of the sun's power even here, one of the coldest places on the planet. In some parts of the world, such a sight would be revered by the people, gatherings centered around the rebirth of the sun after a night of darkness, but here, where the moon was the focus, and night seemed to be loved more than the day, few were awake to witness the sunrise, and hardly anyone appreciated its beauty.

A man stared solemnly at the sight, as was his custom, as he wondered why these people couldn't see the appeal of the sun. The members of the water tribe were the only people that he knew that did not give much thought to the sun; even the people of the earth kingdom recognized its life-giving qualities that warmed their crops, and he had heard rumors that the air-nomads had respected the sun just as much as they revered the air.

The man shifted from his place on the ice wall that surrounded the city, and adjusted his parka so that it better covered his form from the cold. He had always despised the cold, preferring the long summers that graced the shores of his homeland, but the cold was a necessary consequence that came with the place that had been his refuge for the last seven years, even if he sometimes yearned to return to the only place that he would refer to as home.

A soft, gloved hand on his back startled him out of his musings, and he tore his gaze from the icy waters towards his wife, who had evidently joined him sometime during sunrise.

"You miss it too, don't you?' She asked, the air making her breath come out in puffs.

"Of course," he answered, his eyes flicking over her form, recalling how she had looked during their time at their homeland, and couldn't help but compare how different she looked now.

Her once vibrant red robes had been replaced with a blue parka, which contrasted vividly with her pale skin, a feature they both shared, and what he was sure made them both stand out from the other members of the tribe.

The move had been hardest for her, he knew, coming from a nation where women were equal to a place where they were hardly thought of as more than slaves. He had had to carve her a necklace to 'claim' her as his wife, in accordance to the traditions of the tribe. He had thought the gift would have offended her when it was first presented, but to his surprise, she had been delighted with the handmade gift, something that his old self never would have thought to do. Indeed, he was much different than the man he used to be, so much so that he cringed at the thought of what he might have been like today if nothing would have changed...

"There is always hope we may return someday," she replied wistfully, staying the desire that they both knew would never come true. Even if they had the chance to leave this place and be safe, they knew they would never be able to return to their country after the manner they had left it, without being able to be drowned by their shame.

"Perhaps," he allowed, and glanced downwards suddenly as a low moan of an animal signaled its awakening, and the couple pushed aside past matters to sate the curiosity of the beast that had arrived on the shores just a few days prior.

"There's rumors that the young boy is the avatar." His wife commented, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she continued, "perhaps he'd like a master."

The man snorted, knowing that it was not a water bending teacher that she was referring to, but the unique gift that the two of them shared that was only known to few people in the tribe. "I'm sure he could use one," he muttered, recalling on how the nomad had only seemed to use his base element during his stay, "but I am unsure I would be willing to risk exposing my identify."

His wife rolled her eyes, and after a glance around to be sure they were alone, she leaned forward as she spoke, "and why would that be so strange, after all, there are plenty of fire-benders at the North Pole." In her hand, she held a small, conquered flame.

Hissing in surprise and alarm, the man grasped her hand with his (both hands of which, by now, had been disposed of their gloves), and glared at her in warning, "Careful 'Ursa, we are standing-"

"On a block of ice, I know," Ursa cut in, annoyed, "Fire makes ice melt, ice melts, Ursa and Oz fall into water, blah blah blah. Do you honestly think I have that little control on my bending?"

Her tone made Oz blush, ashamed. Although she had not demonstrated it much in their youth, Ursa was nearly as good as a bender as he was, and he had been at the master level when he last bended.

"I know, it's just..." he trailed off.

"Just nothing," Ursa finished, making the flame grow between their hands, "but doesn't it feel nice to feel some heat?"

It did, Oz admitted to himself, and withdrew his hand to produce a flame of his own. He hadn't blended much at all since the incident, and each time he did he would get a rush of euphoria for doing what his blood craved.

"You know," Oz said as he made his flame shrink into a soft glow that encompassed his hand, "you might be right about the boy needing training, if he really is the avatar," he added the last part as an after thought, since the tribesmen were horrible gossips and not everything they spoke could be truthful, "it might be useful to go see."

And with that statement, he offered his flame-warmed hand to his wife, and the two fire-benders walked off to find the avatar, their joined hands glowing softly as the only evidence was of their trade.