"Zuko—no!"
It was a plea, a desperate beg as she called out to the firebender. Her back slammed against the wall, Katara looked up, her ajar lips caked in a stinging blood (a nasty blow from a nasty fall). Zuko stopped and stared at her, halting to a slow mid stop before he ran off.
"W-Where are you going?" A pause, another drop of blood, "Are you leaving me?"
This was the final day, the day where there was no second chances, no room for mistakes or wasted moments. But he paused, and held his breath, if just for a moment.
"They need me over there, to fight in the west wing. The comet will be here any second. I'm a firebender, remember?"
And I'm a waterbender…
He saw her face tense, her eyebrows furrow and a frown across her red cherry lips. She was cracking under his eyes, afraid and alone, and lost like her big blue eyes in this dreaded battle. This was Katara, the most powerful waterbender, a strong warrior, a fighter, and yet. She was afraid of being alone among the war filled air.
And this was they were fighting.
For the people, whether strong or not, who were afraid.
If Katara was afraid, the mighty mother of all, then what hope was left?
"Wait—"
Zuko slipped his hand with hers, tangling their fleshy digits and holding on tightly to whatever was left of them. Just as the walls began to crumble, and the sound of marching feet came, he pulled her behind him, keeping her close. Hand in hand, he whispered to the waterbender with a whisper as hoarse their tired hearts.
"You're coming with me, Katara. We fight together."
Together, there was less to be afraid of, and more to trust in.