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The Northern ice gates are a sight to behold, but Katara's excitement whirls within a snowstorm of dread. Sokka and Aang are gasping in delight, watching the waterbenders shift the ice to their whim as easily as fingers drag through water. She should be joining them. But she can see it in their faces as they spot the rare sight of watertribe southerners.
Right now, the South Pole is a blip of memory, a footnote to this wonderous experience. It will have to be Katara herself who breaks the news.
She does her best to enjoy the splendour. The city, for it can only be a city to Katara's wide, experienced eyes, is tiered so the palace looks out upon it's subjects like a ponderous snowbear owl watching over its brood. Unlike the South's rudimentary huts penned in by bone supported snow walls, the North is carved from the glaciers. No summer sun can melt these walls, no mad scrambling of the city inhabitants to work before morning turns the ground to slush.
Icediving didn't become extinct, the need for them became obsolete.
Faced with the majesty, the fortification and power, Katara misses her home, her ice and her Gran-Gran as acutely as ever.
The first Waterbending Master Katara meets has to be the only man not enjoying the celebrations.
Chief Arnook, bold in nature as ice under a warm sun, welcomes the delegation with a feast and an embrace for Katara and Sokka each. "Brother! Sister! My father and myself thought us orphaned up here for decades. I'm so sorry we didn't send aid sooner. The Northern watertribe has abstained from the war for so long, but that is because all we are fighting for is here."
"We regret our inability to send aid," the sour-faced older master with a grey goatee adds. Formality drips from him, coating him in a vastly different essence to the jubilation Arnook expresses. If he thinks just saying it is the same as meaning it, spitting the words out while barely looking at them, sets Katara on edge.
"No longer!" Arnook announced then as he announces now, seated before his people on the high frozen dais. Low braziers burn at the peak of every table, bathing his people in warm, waxy light. "Tonight, we celebrate not only the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe, but the south's resurrection. For so long we thought you lost, mourned our spirits being cleaved in half by this war. From the bottom of my heart I welcome you back from the dead." The man practically has tears in his eyes as he grips Sokka and Katara's forearms. "And they have brought with them, someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now... the Avatar!"
Aang waves cheerfully to the applauding crowd, and Katara is pleased to note he doesn't bask so readily this time in the attention like on Kyoshi Island. He's come a long way since they left the south pole. His summer was fruitful, and the world has indulged in a harvest of joy with the Avatar's return. But now the long winter is settling in.
"With the coming Ever Night, our reason to celebrate is high!" Arnook continues. As if waiting for the cue, a silver haired young woman placed farther down the table stands. "We also celebrate my daughter's eighteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!"
When the girl speaks, her voice tinkles like freshly fallen snow. "Thank you, Father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during the Ever Night."
"What are they talking about?" Aang whispers from her right. Unlike Sokka, he is not as distracted by Yue to lift his cup to the Princess' toast to winter.
"The Ever Night is a watertribe tradition. In the poles the sun disappears for all of winter. See." She points to the thin streams bisecting the grand hall, where pale luminescent fish bathe the revellers in silvery moonlike light. "They're already preparing the starlight koi. They'll be the main source of light until the skies thaw in spring."
Aang's grey eyes track the lazily swimming fish with wonder. "I never visited the poles in winter. Too cold." He flushes, avoiding her eyes. "Not that I don't like the cold, just that in summer I could watch the spirits dance and go penguin sledding, which I did with you too. But I'd come with you in winter too, or whenever, but I'd rather come with you. I mean…" He rubs the back of his neck, smiling and shy. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
"It hasn't started yet," she teases.
His cheeks are too pale to hide the deep pink hue. "Then thank you for the pre-present."
It's considerably smoother than Sokka is with the princess, who's laughing as her idiot older brother crashes and burns. But Yue favours her idiot brother in the sparse seconds he isn't fawning over her, fiddles with her braids and keeps from souring her breath with the garlic infused sea snails.
Theirs will be an awkward affair, one she will gleefully watch unfold into an awkward and, if she knows the man her brother is becoming, uncompromisingly adoring romance.
Given how her last dalliance into love ended, romance the last thing she wants to think about. So, she lets the students of master Pakku steal her attention for the rest of the night, practically bouncing in her seat as she thinks of what the next morning will bring for her. Finally, she'll have more than dusty scrolls and the raspy echoes of metal classroom lessons to bring her closer to her element.
"I've waited for this day my whole life. I finally get to learn from a real waterbending master!"
Aang can barely keep up with the bounce in Katara's step, but she can't slow down. She's dreamed of this day since she was a girl of the Southern Ice and, fed up with Sokka's teasing, froze his bath water around him. As their father chipped the wailing seven-year-old free, mother cried, scooped her into her arms. She said her daughter would be the south's most powerful bender one day. Katara was too young at the time to realise her mother's real meaning behind the sorrowful epigraph.
Aang doesn't realise it either, bounding ahead as they crest the snowy steps to come upon the massive, open ice dais. Pakku dominates the arena, possibly the only waterbender who naturally rises with the sun, peacefully working through his waterbending Kata's. Peacefully, until Aang makes their presence known the only way he knows how.
"Good morning, Master Pakku!"
The graceful, flowing steps screech to a halt. Pakku's so jarred he drops the water he was bending, sloshing across his slippers. "No, please, march right in. I'm not concentrating or anything," he gripes unpleasantly.
Fluent in sarcasm, Katara frowns at the unnecessary bite to the master's words. It deepens when he catches sight of her. Pale crystal eyes narrow. She hasn't said anything, how could she have possibly offended him this time?
Not so fluent, Aang bulls cheerily ahead. "This is my friend, Katara. The one I told you about?"
I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding," Pakku says without an ounce of apology in his shattered ice voice. "You didn't tell me your friend was a girl. In our tribe, it is forbidden for women to learn waterbending."
"Excuse me?" Katara barely manages to keep the bite from her words. Since she got here, she's been catching side eyes and disapproving looks from the man under his smear of a goatee. Underneath it, Pakku sneers. "I didn't travel halfway across the world so you could tell me no!"
"No."
His pleasure in aggravating her almost undoes her tenuous hold on her temper. "But there must be other female waterbenders in your tribe?" She won't say the word girl when he practically spits it at her.
"Here, the women learn from Yugoda to use their waterbending to heal." He notices her fingers clench and smirks. "I'm sure she would be happy to take you as her student, despite your bad attitude."
Aang saves her from taking an icicle to Pakku's smug, turned up nose, even if it wasn't his intention. No matter what, he must learn to waterbend, even at the cost of Katara's own fulfilment. She isn't so selfish as to put herself above Aang, above bringing the war to an end. Lot's of people go their whole lives without reaching their dreams. So, with a heavy heart, she drags herself to Yugoda's healing hut.
She gets nothing from the lesson. The hut of young girls don't know any better than to drink in Yugoda's teachings. It breaks Katara's heart to see all the potential wasted. No, she shouldn't think like that. Healing is as noble as fighting. Jeong Jeong taught her to respect everything her element could offer, to never seek destruction.
But she really wanted to expand her knowledge, and to show some Fire Nation scourges why they never should have messed with the Southern Watertribe. She can't help that she feels its her duty to show the world what the south could bring to this war. But, apparently, it's not her place.
Not her place up here, anyway. Once Aang learns and they can be on their way, she'll find a way to catch up.
Now, she feels like she needs to make up for all her moping, so she approaches Yugoda as the rest of the girls file out. "Thanks for the lesson. I only just found out I could heal. This really helped speed up my understanding of it."
It feels as insincere as it sounds. Luckily, Yugoda gets distracted. "Oh, who's the lucky boy?"
Katara blinks, before realising the woman is paying special attention to her neck. "Excuse me?" She seems to be saying that a lot today. These Northern Water tribespeople are cooky and not particularly good at getting their point across the first time.
"Your betrothal necklace. You're getting married, right?" Yugoda paces around her, fingers pinching the air either side of her neck. "Whoever puts the necklace on you, he is your betrothed."
Katara's jaw drops so fast she's surprised it doesn't cover the necklace. "Ah... No. I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
A self-satisfied slash of a smile appears in her peripheral vision. The memory rises against her will, a scarred cheek so close she can smell Zuko's woodsmoke scent as he pulls back to hold her necklace in front of her the way Yugoda mimes now. If the elderly healer knew a Fire Nation prince was the one to give it back, she'd probably faint.
"My grandmother gave my mother this necklace and my mother passed it down to me. Not once was I, uh, presented with it." Katara might have put a bit too much emphasis on that last part.
Luckily, Yugoda's finicky nature distracts her once again as she cups the glass bead in her wrinkled hands. "I recognize this carving! I don't know why I didn't realize sooner; you're the spitting image of Kanna!"
Zuko is abruptly shoved from Katara's mind. "Wait, how do you know my Gran-Gran's name?"
Yugoda smiles up at Katara as if she's seeing someone else. "When I was about your age, I was friends with Kanna. She was born here in the Northern Tribe."
"She never told me." Katara's finger traces the bead, a bead that must have travelled thousands of miles. And back again.
Yugoda's voice takes on a frailer affectation. "Your grandmother had an arranged marriage with a young waterbender. He carved that necklace for her."
"If Gran-Gran was engaged, why did she leave?"
"I don't know. That's always been a mystery to me." Head bowing, Yugoda shuffles over to begin clearing away the healing dummy. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it. "She left without saying goodbye."
She's so distracted by what in her Gran-Gran's life lead her to flee her home she doesn't realise she should have questioned her sanity when Sokka suggested a 'good idea' before it's too late. Master Pakku doesn't just catch them, he disowns Aang as a pupil and, if they don't fight for their right to stay, will have them banished from the Northern Watertribe come morning.
Luckily, Aang is the conflict resolution master and not her, and politely asks Arnook if Pakku will agree to a meeting in the morning. It starts about as well as she hoped and doesn't improve.
"You have disrespected me, my teachings, and my entire culture," Pakku sniffs from his high seat atop a long, frozen dais.
Katara bites off her reply about it not being that terrible a loss. Beside her, Aang bows in correct watertribe custom, keeping his head lowered so he addresses Pakku's folded legs in the correct show of subservience. "I am so sorry, Master. I should have been honoured, but instead I spurned your generosity."
"I break the traditions of our people and share Northern waterbending technique with an Air Nomad, and what do you do but go running off to share it with a Southerner. It's an insult I cannot abide." Aang lifts his head in confusion before quickly remembering to keep it bowed. But he couldn't have missed the disdain for which Pakku stares at Katara. To true outsides, maybe Katara could understand. He's old enough to have heard the horrors of what happened to the Southern Watertribe. But this… this prejudice against her is starting to border on ludicrous.
What happened to make the master waterbender hate women, hate the Southern Watertribe, so vehemently?
"What do you want me to do? Force Master Pakku to take Aang back as his student?" Arnook is equal parts confused and appropriately offended on behalf of his greatest bender. Doubtful he even knew women could be waterbenders outside of healing until this morning.
"Yes, please," Katara tacks on, doing her best to look appropriately apologetic in front of Pakku.
Arnook looks between the prostrate girl and his waterbending master. "I suspect he might change his mind if you swallow your pride and apologize to him."
She'd rather bite off her own tongue and spit it at him. Instead, she grits out a restrained, "Fine."
In the moment she takes to gather herself, Pakku sneers out an impatient, "I'm waiting, little girl."
She can take being mocked for wanting to fight. She can take swallowing her pride to better Aang's bending. She can take so much more than this smear of a man can throw at her and thinks it gets to her.
And then Pakku's cracked ice of a voice chuckles. "Of course, she doesn't know the meaning of deference. I doubt she's ever had the discipline of a proper man in her southern life."
Sokka's gasp chokes in his throat. Beside him, Aang's brows furrow together.
Silent and slow as the glacier, Katara's gaze lifts to meet Pakku's. "What did you say?"
If her venom surprises the old man, he doesn't show it past a lofty grey eyebrow going up. "You see how she speaks to me, Arnook? I swear it's that southern communalism. Raised by the tribe instead of a firm male figure, indeed. Look what it breeds. It's disgusting."
In her peripheral vision, Sokka grabs Aang's arm and takes a purposeful step back. Out of the danger zone.
Katara's voice may crackle like thin ice cracking under the overconfident steps of this presumptuous twit of a man, but she feels only cold. "You have a problem with the way my tribe raised me?"
Pakku opens his mouth, but Katara's rage ignites before he's finished his smug intake of breath.
"When my mother was murdered, the women of my tribe took me in. And not only the women. I was not left to wander the ice. My community raised me. My community gave me everything I hold dear. I was lucky to know many mothers. Many fathers. Many sisters and brothers. You see, Master," she mocks the word and feels satisfaction when it lands. Pakku's lip curls upward in a sneer. "I knew many role models, many male figures. Not one of them could bend, yet all were more of a man then you will ever be in the pitiful time you have left before Tui drags you to the bottom of her depths."
"Is that a threat, girl?" Pakku spits.
"A promise. A prophecy. It might not be me, though believe me I am close, but one day a woman of this tribe is going to have enough of your backwards, oppressive traditions. And I guarantee, she won't be alone."
"You think you can intimidate me? You're a little girl."
Katara squares her shoulders and for the first time in months, in her life she realises, proudly announces her claim. Not a claim to her bending. She was born with that. But the claim she scraped her way through tunnels, snow banks, and out the belly of a metal Fire Nation prison to earn. "I am the Ice Carver… The Icediver of the Southern Watertribe!"
Disgust twists Pakku's face. "They let their women Icedive in the south?"
Farther down the council seats, Yue stops pretending this embarrassment isn't happening. No longer does she wither. No longer does she sneak her glances at this sideshow. Now, Katara has her uncompromising, rapt attention.
Her father notices as well and clears his throat. "Young lady, this is highly irregular."
"With all do respect, Chief Arnook, this does not concern you." Pakku's declaration is cold. Yue feels his chill, and slumps back in her seat. No. She can't give up. Not just when Katara's getting through. As if feeling the tide, shifting against him, Pakku turns his decrepit head to the corner of the room. "You there, warrior of the south."
Sokka straightens when all the eyes of the room turn to him. "Yes, sir?"
Pakku smiles. "Ah, it is good to see discipline was not totally wiped out in your tribe, unlike most of your customs it seems." He shoots a pointed glare at Katara. "Would you allow such impertinence in your ranks?"
Katara looks desperately over to her brother. He can't have forgotten Suki already. He must remember the fierceness of the women, even with Yue's huge, crystalline eyes imploring him over her father's shoulder.
Sokka meets them, glances nervously around at the men of the room. Her heart sinks. He won't sacrifice his standing. Here he's 'prince' Sokka. He has a standing, a chance with a beautiful woman whose father will respect a strong man with strong beliefs in his-
"I grew up surrounded by the men of my tribe," Sokka starts in a firm, if slightly timid, voice. "I trained the boys to take their places when they went off to war. I, regretfully, was too young…"
Here it comes. Katara braces herself.
"But if even one of those boys displays half the courage, fortitude, and strength of will my sister, my friends across this world I have travelled, continues to amaze me with, I can rest easy knowing my tribe is safe in my absence."
Katara stares at her brother, and she's not the only one. Yue's eyes behold him, wonderous, enthralled by the conviction with which he openly defies her people's customs. Not with defilement or degradation to their oppressive ways. He gives his respect equally, fairly, and to everyone.
Pakku sours, dismissing her brother with an indifferent wave of his hand. "Strength of will and strength of body is a difference I would have thought a warrior would know. Though I suppose you're more a warrior in theory than execution."
Sokka's moment in the sun extinguishes under the cruel dismissal of his accomplishments. He kept his tribe safe, but Pakku's only interested in proving his point, shattering through Sokka's will to make sure it lands.
"That is an unfair claim, master." Twinkling as always, Yue is soft spoken yet heard by everyone in the chamber. Especially Sokka, who she favours with a kind smile. "I, for one, think our sisters to the South are fortunate to have a warrior such as Sokka usher in their next wave of protec-"
"I will hear your opinion when I ask for it," Pakku snaps, practically taking the princesses head off with it.
"Hey!" Sokka takes step towards the dais, and only Yue waving him back as she meets the masters eye stays the hand reaching back for his boomerang.
"If the south needs their women to help fight and their women waterbenders to Icedive, no wonder they were so easily exterminated. Your disrespect for tradition murdered your tribe, just like it murdered my Ka-" He cuts himself off, gritting his teeth in a moment of genuine, startling anguish. Katara's storm almost calms in the wake of Pakku's despair, until the man freezes her compassion and stomps it to splinters under his old boot heel. "A hot tempered, impetuous wench like you is no better than the erratic Firebending scum which desecrate this world. You're a disgrace to your bending."
"I am the only waterbender of the south!" Katara fingers clench. The pots either side of the council dais spiderweb with cracks and shatter. When she points at Pakku, the old man's flinch is involuntary and just the spark she needs. "I'll meet you under the ice, beneath Tui and La, or outside. If you're man enough to face me."
She won't win. She doesn't need Sokka to remind her. Or call her crazy. "I don't care." Descending the steps with purpose, she strips off her parka.
"You don't have to do this for me. I can find another teacher," Aang begs, because even when she's in the right, the monk cannot stand a fight if words can fix the situation.
And that's where he's wrong. "I'm not doing it for you! Someone needs to slap some sense into that guy!"
Pakku descends the steps behind them and before the crowd gathered at the zenith. But he doesn't stop at the bottom, walking past Katara without even sparing her a glance.
"Aren't you going to fight?"
"Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong." Pakku waves a hand to punctuate the dismissal. She whips the back with a shred of water before he finishes lowering. He gasps, cradling his hand where a red welt begins to rise on his dark skin.
"Might need someone to take a look at that." Water curls and slithers between her fingers, all with the intent to cause damage instead of healing it.
Pakku's pinched, condescending face narrows into a look of pure loathing. "Fine. You want to learn to fight so bad? Study closely!"
Streams of water burst from the nearby pools. Directing them both towards her, Katara falls back on instinct. Pakku presses, joining the streams together, encircling them in a forceful ring instead of hitting her head on. "You'd think I'd hurt a defenceless child?"
That's almost his biggest insult. Charged with rage, Katara sweeps his water ring away. Sokka's cry from behind cannot break her focus as she charges Pakku's ice wall, sliding up before leaping back, landing atop the nearby post to stare down at the momentarily disoriented master. Those seconds save her. Two moves ahead in the battle, she sets her feet as Pakku melts his walls, directing the full blast of stinging cold water at her.
And she takes it. "You can't knock me down!"
Pakku blinks at the ice bolting her from ankle to knee to the pedestal. Waterbenders flow and move with their element. They do not lock themselves down. He can't fathom it. Can't guess where she's going to go next when she's robbed herself of her element's biggest strength.
She bears down on that surprise by shifting his paradigm a third time, throwing up a flimsy wall of water that brings Pakku back to what he knows. He freezes it, cries out as Katara melts it in the same instant and leaps through the swell to strike physically with her fists. He's old. She's a woman. She'd say it's a fair match up. But he's unfortunately fast as well, ducking them all before whipping up her forgotten puddle and throwing her into a nearby pool.
He resists her attempts to drag their element out of the frozen wasteland of Northern Tradition. So, she'll take that water and drown him in his stubborn ways.
Willing the water into a waist high pillar of ice, she slices a barrage of deadly missiles right for Pakku's head. He breaks the first, second, slips the third when it comes too fast, and she aims the fourth with deadly intent. He's able to swerve just as it slices the air in front of his face, shearing the tip off his right, lank moustache tip.
When he frowns it lifts the left comically high, made even better when he notices and lifts it higher when he sneers.
His counter is brutal. The blast of water is chilling and unrelenting. Water forces its way down her throat, up her nose. Wind howls in her memory. The ice beneath her feet takes on a strange, metal aspect until he she can get her breathing back under control. She banishes the memory of the ship deck before it can consume her. Rage takes its place. She will not be made afraid again.
Snow bursts up from the ground around Pakku, two towering pillars bearing down on the master. But rage is not what the element of water knows, and Pakku turns the snow to mist.
"Well, I'm impressed," he concedes, if not begrudgingly. "You are an excellent waterbender."
She's under no hopeful illusions. "But you still won't teach me, will you?"
He's the one in control as Katara pants. "No."
She snaps a wave towards Pakku. An effortless rise upon an ice pillar sweeps him high above her. She's momentarily caught off guard and he uses it, liquifying the pillar, charging straight towards her now. Seems an old Polarbear Dog can learn new tricks, and she reacts on instinct with the most powerful stream of water her tired, battered body can conjure. Not powerful enough. Pakku freezes her stream mid-attack, then doubles his assault, sliding down the thin stream to land a heavy retaliating strike.
Her knees fail her. She can't see Pakku anymore, but before she can struggle back onto her feet, daggers of ice stab into the ground around her. As long as her body, thick as her legs. The slide deftly between her arms and legs, in front of her shoulder and behind her thigh. Across her chest. Strapped to her back. Locking her in place.
"This fight… is over," Pakku does his best to show how little the fight affected him. His lopsided moustache ruins the façade.
Katara thrashes. She may be locked down, but her rage still burns. "Come back here! I'm not finished yet!"
"Yes, you are." Pakku turns all his disdain on her. He's beaten her, now he twists the knife just for the pleasure of it. "I took one look at you and knew your lack of respect and knowledge for your element would be your weakness. Know what it means to embrace the torrent instead of your petty, hurt feelings."
His foot shifts the snow their battle disturbed, unearthing a dark blue anomaly which catches the pale, sparkling sun. Pakku notices and, to Katara's unending fury, bends to pick up her necklace. "Don't touch that!"
He doesn't seem to hear her, staring dumbly at the bead he holds between the torn ribbon. "My necklace…"
"No, it's not! It's mine!" She thrashes all over again against her bonds. "Give it back!"
She's ready to scream herself hoarse, until a tortured, quiet sob wrenches from Pakku's throat. Before her stunned eyes, the ice-cold master cradles her necklace to his chest as he crumples in on himself. "I carved this sixty years ago for the love of my life… for Kanna."
"You?" Shock obliterates her hate. It was growing impossible to hold onto as the wretched man cries, uncaring of the crowd, of the sudden pity from his adversary.
And, in letting go, something in her soul opens. She feels the push of the ice against her and pulls back with her bending. The ice locking her in place melts on the spot and, carefully, wary of Pakku, she approaches. "My Gran-Gran was supposed to marry you?"
The stubby tip of Pakku's moustache quibbles with his sobs. His icy eyes take her in, and she's sure she doesn't look much better than him. Her hairs been knocked from its braids. Her skin stings in places from his relentless barrage of water, eyes no doubt red and blotchy. But she's imploring and curious, and this man, onerous and haughty though he is, is above all else, a teacher.
"I carved this necklace for your grandmother when we got engaged. I thought we would have a long, happy life together… I loved her."
"But she didn't love you, did she?" Katara guesses, and Pakku flinches. "It was an arranged marriage. Gran-Gran wouldn't let your tribe's stupid customs run her life. That's why she left. It must have taken a lot of courage."
The master's eyes turn rancid. "Courage? Is that what you call it? I call it selfishness!" His fist tightens around the necklace. For a moment Katara fears his grip might shatter the bead. "I offer her my life, my love, and she chooses to run straight into the Fire Nation's Southern Massacre! She left a life with me to die!"
The instinct to rush to her grandmother's defence burns hot. Her mouth is open, ready to render this vile man to cinders. But his rage is shrivelling back in on itself before her eyes, enough remaining to rise to her next stand. And they'll keep going, back and forth. Push and Pull. No winner, no loser. Only two hurt waterbenders.
So, when he pushes, Katara embraces Pakku's torrent, pulls it towards her, and extends her hand for her necklace.
She's been so blinded by her frustration, by her dream shattering around her, to see it sooner. It's in his unrelenting prejudice to the south, and now his hesitation to give her necklace back, to relinquish the last part of the Southern Watertribe, of the women who ran towards death rather than be with him. A woman who's spitting image stands before him now with her hand open, and he still holds onto his last shred of hate.
"Kanna survived the raids."
Pakku's broken eyes snap wide, then narrow warily. Afraid she'll hurt him, as if Katara could. "Wh-what?"
"My Gran-Gran is alive and well in the South as we speak. The Fire Nation failed to exterminate the tribe. Sokka and I are proof of that."
Pakku searches her face for hint of a lie. "I couldn't let myself hope… She's alive?" At her nod, he looks down at the necklace in his palm one last time, before placing the glass bead back in her hand.
He looks back up and, for the first time since Katara came to the North, smiles.
Pretty please let me know your thoughts and feedback because I would love to know if I'm doing a good job! It only takes a second and it would be greatly appreciated! Reading all your wonderful comments keeps me writing as I plough on for Book Two.
Not going to lie guys, this one probably tested me the most. It's the one where I probably stick closest to the episode, which is boring for me because you guys know I thrive when I get to do my own original stuff. I've got my own canon sprinkled in and it's Katara being her most badass. I was legally obliged as an Avatar lover to write it XD
Kudos always welcome, likes, dislikes, comments and complaints. Let me know what you guys think because I love reading them and finding out about you guys!