Darkness had long since claimed the icy terrain by the time Katara reached the outskirts of the village which was nothing more than a small encampment of sealskin tents and yak-hide huts illuminated by scattered campfires. Katara had known nothing of its existence until the previous summer when she visited here with her father. He told her that the group broke away from the main tribe during his father's rule. When he became chief, Hakoda would make periodic visits to assure them of his support. With the war's end and promise of progress and restoration, he had hoped they would rejoin the larger tribe in the more centralized city. Being closer to the harbor, connected to the outside world, would be advantageous, he had said.
Katara slowed her pace and took in the scene with a strange sense of fondness, almost a longing. It reminded her of the way things used to be—of home. She didn't blame them. She wouldn't want to leave, either. Besides, all the port ever brought them was pain—ships full of soldiers with fists of fire and smoke that poured down like rain.
Of course, all of that had changed. She had to believe it, too. Because now she was the one who arrived by ship. Fire and water, progress and restoration. Connected to the outside world.
Maybe none of this feels like home anymore because… it isn't.
She had stopped walking by this point, unsure of why she came here in the first place. A dull ache had settled behind her eyes, and a slight pounding in her ears kept her from hearing the approaching footsteps. But whoever gripped her wrists, pulled her arms behind her back, and placed cold metal to her throat would soon regret it. Because another sensation coursed through her blood.
The moon was full.
But before she could unleash an entire snowbank on her captor, a voice broke through her pulsing rage.
"Kian, let her go! That's the chief's daughter!"
Her release was immediate. Katara stumbled forward toward the speaker, then shot a glare back at the young man who held his guard, blue eyes and blade both flashing in the dark.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" She summoned some snow to soothe the sore spots on her wrists before they left a mark. She didn't want to have to explain bruises to Zuko.
A young woman's face came into view. "You're… a healer!"
Katara sighed. Now she remembered. "Y-y-yeah. That's why I'm here."
Dinner was all sorts of awkward without Katara. Zuko felt like he should say something to Hakoda after their conversation in the kitchen. Uhh, thank you? I'm sorry? I trust you, too… I think?
Except that the chief's edginess from earlier had sharpened significantly, although not directed at him, thankfully. There was definitely some tension between Hakoda and Kanna. Malina spoke in an unnatural sing-song tone about random unrelated topics which only added to the discomfort. And Pakku may be a seasoned warrior, but he was seemingly dead set on dodging domestic conflict at all costs.
Zuko understood, though. He'd seen his share of warfare on the homefront. Except this family fought differently. Less fiery, more cold. Less explosive, more cautious. And while Zuko did not like the idea of Agni Kais to settle an argument, he thought he might prefer quick and easy over the stewing and brewing.
Then again, he'd never been in an Agni Kai that was quick and easy. Nor did it settle anything for that matter. He reached up to touch his scar but quickly withdrew his hand when he saw Hakoda was watching.
After dinner, Pakku grabbed Zuko's elbow and led him a few paces away from the others. "Would you be up for a spar, Fire Lord? I haven't had a decent opponent in ages."
"Oh, uhh, sure. But what about Katara?"
"What about her?"
Where did she go? "She'd be a good opponent?"
"Well, I'm sure she can kick your ass. But she's predictable… especially since I taught her everything she knows," Pakku said with a smirk.
Oh, I seriously doubt that. "Sure. You're on."
Fighting Pakku was nothing like sparring with Katara. Because she's anything but predictable, combining traditional moves—much like the ones Pakku now executed flawlessly—with flowing motions punctuated by erratic bursts, almost like firebending. Pakku was clearly a master, though, strong and accurate and ultimately very predictable. Zuko was a little out of practice, but he was agile and fast.
The fight drew a small audience, and because of that, Zuko let Pakku win. He knew a way to do this without his opponent knowing. He'd often lose on purpose and early on when fighting Azula in their younger years because he'd learned the stakes would be much higher if he didn't. And he'd throw fights with Katara occasionally, too, but she absolutely couldn't know it. She wouldn't stand for it. But he could tell when she needed to dominate, to overpower him. There was some underlying symbolism there. They were equally matched now, but they hadn't always been.
This fight was symbolic, too, in a sense. That Water Tribe and Fire Nation were now equal on the global scene, but the pursuit of peace didn't erase all the pain and suffering from the past. By his own country's code of honor, Zuko couldn't surrender. But he could lose and acknowledge his worthy opponent. He knew a simple sparring victory wouldn't cover the gamut of grievances his nation caused at the South Pole, but he hoped it would demonstrate his humility and openness in coming here.
"Why did you come here?" The question came out like a hiss from across the hut. Kian, the tribe's guard, and his sister, Mika, exchanged nervous glances.
Katara shivered. Maybe it was her imagination, but the voice was eerily similar along with certain features silhouetted by smoke and shadows. "I—" she croaked.
"Speak up, girl! We don't take kindly to unannounced visitors after dark!" The woman had been introduced as one of the tribal elders, but Katara knew exactly who she was.
She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. My name is Katara. I met Siku and Sura today at waterbending school. They said you were sick, and I'm a healer, so I thought I could—"
"The Northern style of healing focuses on chi flow, girl. I assure you my problem has nothing to do with my chi."
She was right. By encouraging enhanced chi flow, a waterbending healer actually helps the body heal itself. Everyone has the power within to overcome and recover. It's tapping that power that presents a challenge for most people.
But Katara didn't plan to access the woman's chi flow. She had a different method in mind and even the full moon to aid her. She just couldn't tell this woman what she was doing, of course.
"Well, actually, I've trained in medicine all over the world. I can… use your chi to assess your problem and maybe suggest a treatment you haven't tried, yet?" She'd also learned a little about auras, the outward expression of one's chi energy. This woman's contributed to the darkness she was shrouded in—hopelessness.
"Don't you think I've tried everything!?" the elder snapped. "It is not a problem. It is a curse."
Katara realized she'd seen this type of negative energy before with Zuko. When he thought he was doomed to become his father, forced to live that legacy, and carry on that curse. He had even called it a sickness at one point. So how did he overcome?
The first time Katara sensed that Zuko had found hope was when he met Lee. Because it was the first time he considered the possibility of a future untouched by Ozai's influence. When he discovered he had a choice... and a responsibility. Hmm. It's worth a shot.
"Siku and Sura are very talented," she started. "You must be very proud."
There was a hitch in the woman's breath at this unexpected turn in the conversation.
"I think… as the last few Southern waterbenders, we have an important choice to make," Katara continued. "We can be strong and courageous and carry on our tradition. Or we can remain victims to our history of fear and weakness. I know what future I want for myself and the tribe. What do you want for your children?"
There was a rustle of fabric as the feeble woman pushed herself to a seated position. "How dare you speak as if you know me. As if you know what my family has been through. Of course the girls are talented. They do not come from a history of weakness as you suggest."
Right. Their history is one of great power. Horrible, unspeakable, unlimited power.
Katara thought better than to mention that she did, in fact, know something about their family—or someone, rather. "I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to help. I shouldn't have come here."
Tears stung her eyes and wind whipped at her cheeks as she brushed past curious villagers in her haste to leave. She made it to the outer ring of tents before she felt a soft grip on her shoulder.
"Katara?"
It was Mika with Kian standing just behind her, both wearing grim expressions.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"There are others," Mika interjected. "Who are sick. Hanna said to kill her if the curse spread to others… and to kill the girls, too. So, we haven't told her."
Hanna? Of course her name would even sound the same. Katara shuddered, her vision now blurring with the emotion she was trying to hold back.
"Siku and Sura's father took them to the city for their own safety. The waterbending lessons are just a cover, actually," Mika explained.
Kian stepped forward. "Do you really think it's a curse?" he asked.
"No. I don't." Katara said. But it could be contagious.
"Would you come take a look at our father, then?"
"Do you always invite your opponent to tea after you defeat them?" Zuko eyed Pakku over the rim of his cup as he slowly sipped the steaming drink. It was nothing like the brews his uncle made, but he liked its herbal flavor.
"You know what they say, when you can't beat them, poison them," Pakku said with a sly smile.
Zuko coughed and pounded a fist to his chest where the tea's warmth had just settled. "B-b-but you beat me, sir?"
"Did I?" Pakku raised an eyebrow and lifted his own teacup.
Oh shit. He knows.
"Tell me, Fire Lord. Had we finished the fight properly, who do you think would have really won?"
Zuko swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I-I don't know. Probably you. It's been a long day, and I'm tired, so—"
"That's not the reason you threw the fight. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was to protect an old's man pride or maybe even get in good with your girlfriend's family, but that's not it, either. It was a diplomatic move, and well played, I might add." Pakku's gray-blue eyes softened, and the hue reminded Zuko of misty mornings at sea.
"Uhh, yes sir. Thanks."
"So, answer my question truthfully. Who do you think would have won in the end?" The waterbender paused to stroke his beard. "We can go fight again and find out."
"No, no. That won't be necessary." I really am tired. "Uhh... I still think it would have been you, sir."
"And why is that?"
"Because we're in your territory. You have all this water and ice at your command. My only source is my inner fire."
"Ahh, but we supposedly had home advantage when the Fire Nation attacked us. What happened then?"
Zuko shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Uhh... you were outnumbered, sir."
"Ahh, I see. So what you're saying is that people do best when they are in their element, so to speak. And that strength comes in numbers, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And alone, you are only as strong as your inner fire, as you put it."
"Right."
"So let this be a lesson in Water Tribe culture, Fire Lord. We are a communal people. No man stands alone. Even fire needs air and fuel to burn."
"Oh-okay."
Pakku leaned in close enough for Zuko to smell the herbs on his breath. "My point is, it is OK to need people. A solo ship is lost at sea, but a fleet has purpose."
Zuko allowed himself to breathe and nodded in response. He knew what it meant to sail solo for a purpose, even if it was a lost cause. He'd never really had a fleet—a family, until now.
Then the old waterbender set down his cup with a surprising clank. "But there IS such a thing as Water Tribe pride. Don't EVER pull a stunt like that again. Next time we fight to the end."
