It was during a chaotic blizzard in the South Pole and with miniscule surprise did Zuko find himself beside a failing Katara.
One out of the circle and into the middle.
Her body was getting colder, and no amount of firebending ingenuity could reverse it. Sokka was holding her hand, tears cascading painfully from his spirit, and saying something that was only a silent procession to his frosted ears.
He couldn't recall how long it had been since the first time he felt this sensation.
How long—seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years—How long?
He supposed it didn't matter, he would remember soon enough.
He needed to concentrate. She was talking.
"Do you think he's out there somewhere, Sokka? He has to be. It's better this way. I don't want to meet the new one. It won't be him," she murmured, the first bit of heat he saw in her.
"I refuse to see it. It's not him. It's a lie. But don't worry. I'll find him. He's out there somewhere, and I'll be the one to find him. I was the one who did. I'm the only one who can. The world can take their lie and live happily ever after. I don't care, because I'll find the real him…"
He didn't know why he was nodding to her every word.
Doesn't matter. He'll remember soon enough.
She breathed out winter and her skin became snow.
Her glazed ocean eyes met his.
"I'll find him………won't I?"
"You will," he lied, and placed his hand on hers.
"Tell him I said 'hello'," he requested truthfully.
She beamed warmly. "Don't worry, I will………I promise you."
Her eyes closed.
They say one should never fall asleep during a blizzard in the South Pole.
The sun rose.
She never woke up.
…eternal frozen smile.