Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar.
Author's Notes: Another oneshot that's been bothering me. Don't worry; The Angel Experiment will be updated before Christmas… obviously… and I will also be posting a classic holiday-themed oneshot on Christmas Day exactly. Yay! :D So keep a lookout for both of those. And yes, this is a fic inspired by the song… but that doesn't mean I like who sings it!
Wide Open Spaces
Katara hummed as she did her work. Days at the icy South Pole were droll and boring, full of endless scrubbing that turned her fingers red and trudging through the snow that made her toes go numb. So she sang to make the work less boring and the snow less cold. But the main reason she did it was because she knew no different. The Water Tribe girl had been living like this her entire life; she knew nothing but the cold and the work and the thought of "Oh my god will we live through the winter?"
When her mother was alive, she did the same thing. Kaya had taught Katara to sing; and like most other instances, Katara had latched on to every word her mama had said and had taken it to heart. She treasured her mother's voice and tried to bring it back every way possible.
Her favorite things to sing were Water Tribe lullabies and ballads of beautiful princesses falling in love with fearsome yet kind warriors with blue eyes and soft hands.
But sometimes… occasionally… she would find herself humming along to dusty songs of the Air Nomads that hadn't been sung in nearly a century. Today was one of those days.
The edges of the metal pot felt heavy against her thin fingers as the giant, bulbous base thwacked against her knees with every step. Katara struggled to keep it under control but somehow managed nevertheless. At the moment, she was humming as she slowly made her way to her family's single tent.
"Hmm… hmm…" When she entered, Sokka was already there, bending over a wooden carving and meticulously slaving away at it. Katara set the pot down in the fire pit and kicked some furs out of the way. "A young girl's dream no longer hollow… it takes the shape of a place out West… But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed—"
And sometimes, the freedom and joy of the song made her want to stand up and dance. The people of the Water Tribes had much spirit in them, even if they were deprived and scrabbling along the edge of existence. So Katara danced and let the song burst from her lungs. "She needed, wide open spaces—room to make her big mistakes. And she needed, new faces… she knows the high stakes, she knows the high stakes—"
Sokka flinched. He hated it when she sang like that. "Spirits, Katara!" he burst out in a frustrated, growling tone. "If you're gonna sing like that, at least do it somewhere where I can't hear you." The teen's brow knit together in agitation as he returned to his work.
His sister blew a raspberry in his direction and curled her lip before stomping out of the tent.
Sokka snorted. At last. Slowly, he drew his knife along the cylindrical piece of wood, smiling in satisfaction as a thin curling of bark fell to the ground. He coughed slightly… then felt a humming in his head. He discreetly looked around for Katara (no sign of her) before letting it out. "Hmm…" A little variation. "Hmm hmm…"
The tone was tiny and nearly silent, but Sokka couldn't stop it from sneaking past his lips. "He needs, wide open spaces—room to make his big mistakes. He needs, new faces… he knows the high stakes, knows the high stakes…" And with that, he smiled just a little bit.
'Cause everybody needed just a little bit of room to grow. Even those people who didn't believe it in the first place.