"Master," Nukka breathed as her hands danced over the hairpin that Katara had placed in her grasp. It was in the shape of a flower she had never seen before, the petals enameled a vibrant orange, inlaid with amber and onyx. It was a heavy thing, made of solid gold, and Nukka's breath caught in her throat when the probable cost of such an object came to her.
"It is a Fire Lily," Katara explained softly, a slight smile resting upon her lips. "They only grow in the Fire nation," she added, reaching over and lightly stroking a petal, her eyes in a faraway place. "You'll see them in person one day, when you go to learn fire bending."
Nukka shivered in the ceremonial robes that Katara, Suki, and Keiki had embroidered for her, and slid her eyes up to meet Katara's. Her normally fearless face was filled with trepidation, and she fidgeted in her seat. "I'm afraid," she whispered softly, and then felt herself be drawn into Katara's warm embrace.
She had been orphaned when she was small; her father had died in the invasion of the Fire Nation, her mother of childbed fever. When the leaders of the Northern Water Tribe had discovered that she was the Avatar and had sent her to Southern, Katara had taken her in as one of her own, had become mother as well as master to her. Her heart ached to know that she wouldn't see this woman, the only mother she had ever known, again for several years.
"You are a daughter of water. You have nothing to fear." Nukka could hear the hidden amusement in her Master's voice as she said the words, and when she glanced up she could see the ghost of a fond memory in the woman's eyes. Nukka swallowed back the urge to ask what the saying reminded the woman of, and Katara smiled and continued as though she could see the question in the young Avatar's eyes.
"Water is adaptable, changeable; it always finds a way. It can wear down the oldest mountain, can smooth the edges of the sharpest glass. So you too will adapt to your environment, will find a way where others capitulate. It is natural to be frightened when you leave home, but you do not need to worry. You will succeed in all you do." The master waterbender leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Nukka's cheek, and the girl turned and buried her head in the crook of Katara's neck.
"Were you afraid?" she murmured against the wool of Katara's parka, and she could feel the woman stiffen beneath her. "When you left home for the first time?" she clarified, breaking the unspoken rules of the household by asking about Katara's past.
She could feel Katara swallow, felt her body shudder as she let out a heavy sigh. "Yes. I was terrified. Terrified and nervous and excited and depressed, and yet oh so happy… I was a little bit of everything. I'd never left Southern, you see, and when Aang came… it was a way out, a way to see the world, to help my father…" she trailed off and shook her head. "I was only fourteen when I left home. Young and naïve and so certain of everything."
Katara paused, and pushed Nukka back far enough so that she could cup her face in her calloused hands and look deep into her eyes. "I came back older than my years, my confidence shattered, my beliefs shaken to the core. But grown up, finally. For the first time in my life, I'd seen the world for what it truly was. But this is a different time, Nukka. We are no longer at war, and the avatar commands respect. You will not wind up like me. This journey will change you for the better."
Nukka stared into those sincere blue eyes, and wondered not for the first time what had happened to the beautiful, sad, compassionate woman who had raised her. Who Pakak's father was; if he had been the man that had cast a shadow over what had reportedly been such a bright spirit. "Thank you," she whispered softly, and was tugged into her master's embrace. Katara smelled of fur and ash and the faintest hint of tea… she smelled of home.
"Come, your Womanhood Ceremony is supposed to be a happy day," Katara murmured, drawing away from Nukka's suddenly desperate embrace and wiping tears from her eyes. "Here," she murmured, withdrawing the comb from Nukka's grasp and slipping it into the elegant chignon that Suki had spent over an hour braiding, twisting, and curling into perfection. "You look beautiful. Your mother would be so proud of you, if she could only see you," the older woman added, her voice soft, wistful, and Nukka wondered if Katara was thinking of her own mother, killed in a raid so many years ago.
"You're my mother now," Nukka whispered in turn, and saw Katara's eyes grow wet with unshed tears, felt the woman's trembling as Katara leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her brow.
"And you my daughter," she mumbled, her voice shaking with repressed emotion. She smoothed a calloused palm over Nukka's cheek and when she drew back her eyes were shadowed, haunted, full of both pain and pride. And Nukka wondered if Katara was thinking about the daughter she had once held in her arms, who had died before Pakak had known her. Wondered if Katara was imagining what it would have been like to prepare her own child for her womanhood ceremony; to kiss her daughter's cheek and hold her hands before the girl would have tumbled over the cusp of adolescence and into adulthood. The thought made Nukka's heart ache for the woman who had raised her.
Katara sniffed, blinked, and just like that her emotions were locked away, her face forced into a smiling mask although the pain lingered behind her blue, blue eyes. "Come," she said, rising and holding a hand out to Nukka, who grasped her mentor's palm and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. And then they walked out of the room and into the weak sunlight, were they were enveloped in a cloud of incense and welcomed by cheers. The joyful cries and tearful faces marked the end of her childhood; the last of her carefree days. Nukka's journey into womanhood had begun.