After her confrontation with Yon Rha, Katara vowed to never use Hama's perversion of waterbending again. The healing possibilities didn't even occur to her until the need was dire, when it became a matter of life and death. On that fateful day that marked the end of a century-long war and the beginning of a new era, Katara coaxed a lightening-stricken heart back from the brink of death. She did it without even thinking, only feeling—the push and pull, the strengthening pulse, another person's life flowing beneath her fingertips.
She did it for love, she told herself. She didn't even know she loved Zuko until that moment, when she couldn't imagine life without him. So she reconciled that as long as she only used her ability for healing purposes, the sheer power of it would be justified. But with each life-saving opportunity since then, the option to bloodbend came so naturally, too easily. It scared her—this newfound level of comfort with something she swore to loathe. She couldn't deny its usefulness, but feared her ability to harness control. She was stronger now and more adept than ever—she no longer needed the backing of the full moon's power. Hama couldn't even do that, and it horrified Katara beyond all measure that apprentice had now surpassed the master.
It was too much, she decided, this life giving blessing and terrifying curse. She hated it, but did she even have a choice? She couldn't just let Ursa die that day she found her in Dr. Jung's office. Sure, she'd healed Colonel Chang just to prove she could do it. But then she'd saved Zuko again and Uncle Iroh and now… her father.
Healing Hakoda was different, although Katara couldn't really say why. She loved him and would do anything to help him, of course. Perhaps there was something about a weakened parent before the eyes of his child, a vulnerability she never expected to witness from the man who'd raised her… at least until he left to fight in the war. Maybe that was part of it, too—she held her father's heart in her hands but didn't feel like she really knew him. And if Katara let herself linger on the thought too long, she would've given anything for a chance to heal her mother, too.
It took several sessions over the next two days for Katara to be satisfied with her dad's progress. The loss of blood posed the biggest challenge—she could encourage the body along in its own healing process, but she could not create blood itself. Hakoda wasn't the most cooperative patient, either. He was determined to resume his duties as chief even though he could barely speak a coherent sentence.
He made several premature attempts to stand on his injured leg which undermined Katara's work to keep his circulation regulated. Recalling a certain Fire Lord's inability to rest and relax, she laughed at how similar and frustratingly stubborn they both were.
The dragon and the wolf made an unlikely pair, but she was glad they got along so well. Her father retold stories of their recent hunts and ice dodging with such fondness that Katara couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She wanted to talk to him about Gran Gran's story, aspects of her family history she never knew until now. She also wanted to warn him about Malina. There was something off about that woman, and Katara didn't consider her as fit to be her father's girlfriend. But she could never find a way to work these things into their truncated conversations.
The constant interruptions didn't help. Sokka kept trying to force feed quail chicken soup to both of them on Gran Gran's orders. Malina visited frequently, insisting she could take over Koda's care from here. Even though Katara didn't voice her curt response aloud, Gran Gran had no qualms in saying what she thought about this. "Malina, you are not a healer. And besides, you're not even family."
Why couldn't Dad see? No one around here trusts Malina.
"She's so beautiful, yet fierce," Hakoda had mumbled that first night after the attack. "She doesn't belong here, though. The wolf… he didn't stand a chance."
Katara knew he was talking about the snow leopard and the encouter he'd witnessed in the tundra. But his words hung ominously in the air, as if he were actually talking about someone else.
"In the battle between wolf and snow leopard, the leopard will always win."
Katara feared that with those words, her father had sealed his own fate.