"You must be hungry."
Food? Is there…food here? Doesn't look like there is…Well, wait just a minute there, Aang. Gyatso always said…never judge a flying lemur by its color.
He followed Katara, careful to keep perfectly in step with her and even going so far as to cover her tracks with his (he observed, with wounded pride, that they had fairly similar footprints) so he wouldn't get lost in this place they called a village. From all the ice and blue-tinged faces, Aang could've sworn he'd just step inside one of Gyatso's jasmine tea popsicles. He'd never liked the old monk's proudest creation, but had sucked on quite a few in his time just to appease his guardian as, after all, he'd practically raised Aang. Small sacrifices had to be made for the good of mankind or…in that case, choking down a poorly made ice treat for Monk Gyatso's sake.
Aang decided he'd use the same principle in this situation. He was cold and hungry and strangely tired, even after being stuck in the ice for what felt like days but was only a few hours, he was sure of that. But he was never one to have an unpleasant attitude about anything, at least not one that he has given voice to. Like any young man, his principles on optimism have given way to bad tempers and lapses into adolescent moodiness, but his habits were that of the typical monk – to love the world and anything in it, from the smallest grain of sand to the tallest mountain.
At first he admitted aloud that there was much to be said about a man who could love a mountain or a grain of sand, but being the smart boy he was, he figured out that it was an idea, metaphorical by nature and not to be taken literally.
Gyatso, as always, was the voice of reason in the midst of such youthful nonsense. Might I give an example, Aang, for your young mind to understand. A grain of sand is easy to pick up, easy to relate to as in essence, we too are small compared to the wonders of the world. We understand the grain of sand, as we are like it. But the mountain is the most sublime structure in all the world –a great leader, perhaps, or even the tyrant. We do not understand it, nor are we able to, but we accept and forgive it of its nature just the same.
You see, Aang…we are all a part of this universe and we, the grains of sand, must share it even as we live in the shadow of the mighty mountain.
Well, he was sure this wasn't a mountain. More like a snowy knoll. He could relate to it...his community was rather small, if he thought about it. But it was a lot warmer where he lived and all of the sudden the cruel blade of homesickness plunged into his heart...he wanted to go home. This place was cold and not familiar and there was probably no food (a wonder that the people survived!) and he wanted to see Gyatso. And when he saw him, he'd give him a hug, one that he would give a running start to, in order to build its momentum, and he'd knock the old man backwards from the force of it. He'd apologize for running off like he did because it wasn't fair, now that he thought about it-
"Excuse me…"
Aang whirled around, a ring of air emitting from around his body. It tensed for opposition as he was torn out of a very deep, thorough episode of deliberation, one which he had been very keen on continuing for a very, very long time (five minutes at the very least, if not more!). But as he looked around him, he found nothing – at least, nothing that could have spoken to him so that he could have heard it so clearly. Like a little bell, its echo trickled into his ears. He gave a small hmm…it certainly was a puzzle. He wasn't hearing voices, certainly not…or was he?
"Excuse me…"Came the little sound again.
Aang looked down and found the source of his alarm. A small boy, no older than three, which he could estimate by his size and the wide-eyed wonderful look on his face. He still had all of his baby teeth save for two, and they were comically missing from the front of his mouth…the first two steps into childhood. It was a vague memory, hazy like a morning fog that was just giving in to day, but Aang could remember when he lost his last tooth…but that was a long, long time ago. Almost much too long to recall…he was surprised at his ability to bring to mind such an old, dusty memoir of his ancient life.
It had been three long years before. Practically an age.
"Can I…" He looked around, for a woman with similar features to this little boy stomping an impatient foot with a very cross, dangerous look on her face as she looked at him. Or a group of children looking for their lost playmate in his general direction. But no one seemed to belong to him, or perhaps he didn't belong to them. Just maybe he was like Aang…an orphan. "help you...?"
He smiled, a toothless grin. "My name is Ooyu and I'm a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe!" The boy, Ooyu, made a snarling face and released what was supposed to be a terrifying war cry, but what only came across as humorous.
Aang really couldn't help himself from laughing, though he tried for Ooyu's sake, and the boy's brow narrowed in confusion. "It's scarier when Sokka does it. I promise. I really do."
"I believe you." Aang nodded, although he wasn't sure who Sokka was. It sure sounded familiar though…for some strange reason that he couldn't place into the current situation.
"What's your name?" Ooyu asked, swinging back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"My name is Aang."
"That's a funny name."
"You've got a funny name." Aang retorted pointedly.
"I guess so…" Ooyu thought very hard about this for a moment, then his eyes lit up as a new thought occurred to him. "Aang! I've gotta go to the bathroom! I've gotta go really bad!" He began jumping up and down, squeezing his legs together, emphasizing his point.
Aang's face fell as realization hit him at full speed, like a rogue airball. "Well that makes two of us!"
The little boy tugged on Aang's tunic. "But I gotta go bad and Sokka won't let me!"
"Sokka?" Again, Aang looked around for a guilty party. He scratched his head, hoping if he itched enough sense into himself and repeated the name over and over and over...well, then, maybe it would spontaneously occur to him without warning. That would've been convenient. "Who is Sokka? I remember a Sokka but I don't know why. Can you tell me who Sokka is Ooyu?"
"Katara's mean brother," he replied. "He's mean. He doesn't let us go to the bathroom when we have to during warrior practice and he's…he's…" Stumped, the little boy paused to find a suitable word to describe Sokka fully. He looked up at Aang, his bright, big blue eyes seeming to take up the entirety of his face. "He's very very…mean."
"All teenagers are mean," Aang shrugged. "I think it's a sickness. Once you get it, it takes years to get rid of. In the meantime, let's find us a bathroom."
Little Ooyu nodded happily and began to sing as he toddled off in front of his new companion while Aang whistled along to the tune. But no sooner had Ooyu begun to wander off in a somewhat useful direction, he stopped and turned on Aang like an angry puppy – not very intimidating, but there was still a shock of witnessing such a grown-up emotion from such a little boy.
"Hey! That's my song," he admonished, wagging his finger in the same fashion of a reprimanding mother. "No stealing it cause it's mine and my village's and you can't have it!"
"Well, I'm sorry…" Aang backed away slowly and put his hands up. He never liked conflict…not even with toddlers. It made him feel queasy and light-headed and it was not something he wanted to face, no matter how small. He just…didn't. "Can't we share it? I like to sing too. I'll let you have one of my songs and then we'll be friends. Okay?"
"No! My song, not yours!" He shouted, his little voice echoing across the snowy yard. "Cause you're not from here!"
"How do you know that?"
This switch of subject matter seemed to deter the toddler's misplaced fury and he directed his focus elsewhere. "Cause you dress funny. And you have no hair. That's funny . And you have funny drawings on your head. And…and…you're just funny."
Aang could deal with this. He'd been told he was funny before…it was a compliment! He always loved compliments, although he was sure that everyone loved them. It was a universal fondness that he could share even with this Water Tribe boy who, at the moment, didn't' seem to like him very much…at all.
"I have been told that I have a good sense of humor…hey! Wanna hear a funny joke? It goes like this…so a sky bison and a flying lemur-"
"Not good funny!" Ooyu insisted. "The bad funny."
Aang inclined his head, one brow wrinkled inquiringly."There's a bad funny? Well that doesn't make any sense…I always thought funny was supposed to be a good thing."
"There sure is! My daddy said so. He said that the Fire Nation is the bad funny," Ooyu's voice lowered. "I don't like the Fire Nation. They took my daddy away."
"The Fire Nation? They did what now? When did this happen?"
The Fire Nation was always a tense society, filled with frustration and suffocated arrogance that they fought hard to control in an era of peace, but never one that had resorted to cruelty…unless the boy was mistaken. Perhaps his father had gone away on a diplomatic mission of some sort or the other. Aang was sure he would come back.
Still, his stomach had just begun to lurch back and forth sickeningly, like he was on a boat situated in a particular rough patch of restless sea. He had a bad sinking feeling about all this talk of Fire Nation and missing parents.
"Sshh!" The little boy pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm not allowed to tell you."
"Why not?"
"Sokka…he says…he says," he took a big breath, as if summoning up all of his courage. "He says you're a Fire Nation spy. Sent to destroy us allll! Moo Hahahah!" he paused for effect, looking up at him with the most severe countenance that Aang had ever seen on a boy his age. "That's how Sokka said it. So I said it like that too."
"I'm not Fire Nation," Aang laughed. Funny that someone should mistake him for a firebender…he certainly didn't look like one. "I'm an Air Nomad."
"What's an…Air Nomad?" Ooyu inclined is head.
And Aang's heart felt as if it had leapt into his throat. "What do you mean?"
He was spared the explanation when a figure came marching toward them, from behind Ooyu. He looked rather cross, the same expression Aang had been looking for on a mother not five minutes before. Time seemed to always fly by when talking to little kids…they spoke so fast and had so much to say that topics changed as easily as the weather. One moment, it's a fine, light conversation about bathrooms and things of the like…the next, the storm clouds move in and big, sloppy drops filled with confusion and dread are raining down on unsuspecting heads…and already cold, uncomfortable ones at that.
Aang wanted to freeze into an airbender popsicle right on the spot.
It was that boy from before…the one that had not wanted him to come back with them, but his sister, whom Aang remembered was called Katara (mostly because she was pretty and spirited and very hard to ignore).
Once again, he looked quite unhappy about the situation. And once again, Aang was left uncertain as to why. Perhaps, he mused to himself as Sokka arrived on the scene, his breathing coming in thick huffs of air that reminded Aang of smoke, his face just always looked like that. It was possible, though unfortunate.
"What are you doing out here? You know, you're lucky I let you come along. I'm the leader of this tribe! I keep things in order. I'm the order-keeping man around here and you are definitely messing it up just by standing in that very spot so if I were you I'd be…" He paused and looked up. Aang peeked over his shoulder – the pretty girl was standing at the door again, looking very put out.
"Oh! Katara! There you are. I was just telling this…yeah…that if he's gonna be here he's gotta bundle up. Let me tell you, kid…frostbite is no walk in the snow, if you know what I mean?" Sokka gave Aang what was supposed to be a manly shoulder bump, but Aang lost his balance and nearly toppled over. He saved himself from the frozen ground just in time with a puff of air that kept him on his feet.
"Oh…this is just great…as if my life wasn't weird enough having a water witch as a sister…"Sokka grumbled and pushed Ooyu along, who had begun to excitedly jump and point at Aang.
"I heard that you big-eared jerk!" Katara shouted from her position at what Aang thought to be a hut, but looked more like an igloo-fashioned tent. "That's right. Keep walking!"
"My ears are not big!" Sokka retorted as he walked quickly away. "They are manly. There's a difference!"
Katara sighed as she crossed the snow-riddled distance that separated her from Aang. He turned to look at her and blushed when they locked eyes. He'd been doing that a lot…but he never really remembered seeing such a pretty girl before and actually reacting the way he did to Katara the first time he saw her so maybe, just maybe he was normal...
He told himself to shut up inwardly and put on as big a smile as he could manage with his cheeks and lips beginning to freeze. "Uh…" he scratched the back of his neck, which was also starting to feel numb from the immense cold. "Hi."
"Hi," she said, and chuckled, making his body feel warm again. As if he had not embarrassed himself enough in the past hour…
"Well, I've made some broth for you, if you were hungry," she offered, and shrugged a little. "It's nice in there, not cold at all…and I have blankets to keep you warm too if you need them. You know...just in case."
"That'd be great," Aang smiled cheerfully in return, the thought of warm soup and warm blankets and warm everything the best offer he'd received all day. Not that he'd had that many, but still. "Thanks."
"It's no problem, you are our guests." She replied as he followed her back to the tent.
"No offense or anything but…"He shrugged offhandedly. "I don't get the feeling that I'm really considered a guest to Sokka. More like a threat."
"Ignore Sokka. He thinks he's the village warrior and that he's suppose to protect us from harm with his so called 'instincts'." She wrapped the last in air quotations, her voice lowering into a sarcastic mockery of what Sokka sounded like on a daily basis. Aang couldn't help but laugh at the likeness of her imitation. "He couldn't tell a threat from a tiger seal, in my opinion. Here, let me fill a bowl for you…there's blankets over there on the mat if you need them..."
They had entered the tent and just as Aang looked away from Katara, to take in his surroundings like any naturally curious boy his age would, he let out a stifled cry of disgust and leapt back into the flap of the tent. It was all out of astonishment, really. He would've died before harboring any real intent to insult his hostess, but there was just…so many of them…so many dead animals surrounding him that he just couldn't not react to the unholy sight of their soulless eyes staring up at him, almost pleadingly...help us, Aang! Help us! Deliver us from slavery and free our souls from the grave!
As if it would happen, but nonetheless, the concept of their strangled voices in his head made him want to throw up everywhere and that wouldn't have been a good idea either. He tried to look at Katara, but she was quite alarmed and not the most comfortable of last resorts in the world. Not much to his surprise, really.
"Are you all right?" She cried, looking around aimlessly, trying to find the source of his revulsion. "What's wrong?"
"What?" He squeaked, trying to regain some of his composure and failing miserably as he tripped over a wrinkle in the pelt and gave another unmanly, pathetic little yelp. "No! I didn't see any dead animals…" He slapped his hand over his mouth as he realized what he had said." NO! That's not what I meant, please don't take it that way because that's really…I mean, I meant to say something completely different…and not about all the…dead polar bear dog staring up at me from the floor?"
Katara giggled quietly to herself, trying to spare him the pain of wounded masculinity, but he could tell that she simply couldn't help it. Just as he couldn't help not reacting to the skins.
"You guys killed all of these animals just for their coats?" Aang asked, sadness seeping into his voice.
"Well, no, we eat them too…we make sure not to kill any animals without knowing we'll need all of what they have to offer…we use their skin for clothes and warmth and their meat for food. Nothing goes to waste, not even their bones…they're used to make weapons and jewelry," she replied gently, trying to explain the situation to him as best he could. He was assured a little by it, but his lifestyle was so completely different that it would take some getting used to. Nothing he couldn't…handle.
He gulped and sat down, taking one of the blankets made out of thinner material. It would be impossible, he knew, to use one of the pelts.
"This is just seaweed broth…no meat, I'm afraid," she said sheepishly as she handed him the bowl. He bowed before taking it and she smiled a little at the custom, one she almost never came across. "Sokka and I usually hunt since most of the inhabitants of this village are younger than eight or older than sixty, so it's our job to get food. We've been...failing at our job recently. It was what we were doing when we found you. Looking for tiger seals."
"That's all right, I don't eat meat anyway," he replied, sipping at the broth. It didn't taste half as bad as he thought it would and he took another, just to make sure his tongue wasn't numb. "But I am sorry…that you guys are having trouble finding food, I mean. Maybe, when Sokka is done with his lesson, we can go back out and find some. I could help just…don't make me watch. Or listen…" he paused to think for a moment. "Maybe you should just let me run a few miles away before you...end its life. Just to make sure, all right?"
"All right," she laughed. "That sounds like a good plan to me."
"My name is Aang, by the way," he blurted out, and he blushed at the sudden rush of audacity. Where that had come from, he would never know. He never was good with talking to girls, but this one felt…different somehow. Maybe that was why. Maybe she was different…that was all. "So uh…what's your name?"
"I'm Katara," she replied. "Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Aang."
He smiled in return, feeling something warm and soft, like silk, pooling in his stomach that he knew for certain wasn't the broth.
Her eyes met his again, their sea-stone color like polished fragments of sky set in a beautiful russet-colored face; yeah, definitely not the broth.
Author's Note: Moment two...not really a Katara/Aang moment until the end of the chapter, as you witnessed for yourself. Hopefully Aang and Sokka's characters are written correctly. I'm attempting to incorporate a little of each into them - more cartoon, though, and less movie, because technically this is based off the movie. I do hope you enjoy this installment. Thank you for reading it.
Disclaimer - I don't own Sokka, Katara or Aang. They belong to their creators.
Proofread and edited on July 11, 2010 at 3:38 am.