A/N: I fought demons untold to bring you this chapter. I did it for my love of the reviews, favorites, follows, and PM's. The multiple guest reviewers I cannot thank you personally, but you aren't nameless to me. Your words count, so multiple thank you's to you! Special shout out to ML8991, you have given me special glows of happiness with your passionate interest. The quickness of this chapter's release are primarily due to the magic conversations with ML8991 and also Neverlandarling who asked for a little pick-me-up (cough, cough, a while ago) and I couldn't seem to get that last chapter written. Neverlandarling, this is a belated get well gift to you. I would also like to thank Anita guest who helped me change up again my description. I think I might have gotten some more hits, so thanks to you.
Disclaimer: Too tired to fight against the tide, don't own rights to Avatar the Last Airbender.
Katara's screams are silenced with the din of thundering feet, the rampaging hysteria, and a hard blow to her face. The acrid taste of blood fills her mouth and trickles out of the corner of her lip. The burlap sack, a hood over Katara's eyes, hinders what the darkness and smoke have already cloaked. Thrown over her assailant's shoulder, he runs away from the chaos. His hard shoulder bone jars Katara's stomach with steady punches to her gut. A faint, pungent odor assails her senses. The smell quells her fears, along with the question of why she has been kidnapped. These are non-issues as her mind searches for ideas to aid in her escape.
Sokka held up his fists which were cushioned with leather, boxing gloves. He followed Katara circling movements. Her penetrating stare searched for the right moment to launch her attack. Sokka dropped his left glove slightly, leaving an opening for a lightning fast jab. Katara smiled and leaned in for the swing, but Sokka raised his glove quickly, simultaneously kicking snow into Katara's face. She sputtered as wet clumps slid down her face. She shook her head furiously to knock off the rest of the snow. Sokka laughed. "Baby sister, don't let anyone know what you are planning or that mistake will become their advantage."
The coarse rope cuts into her skin, as Katara slides her wrists back and forth. The rough bristles create lacerations on her skin. She repeats the motion in time with her assailant's steps, any subtle movement from Katara loosening the rope's knot is obscured by the kidnapper's running. Katara senses a slight slackening of the cordage. Closing her left hand so it is smaller, she twists her wrist, slowly inching her hand from out of the binding. The kidnapper jerks to stop; Katara immediately feigns inertness. Dropping Katara from his shoulder, she falls heavily onto the pavers. She rolls to lessen the impact but issues a groan to make it seem more realistic, wincing, mainly from the fact that her grunt sounds fake to her ears. To maintain a more convincing pretense, Katara draws her knees to her chest and whimpers with false terror.
Tearing off his gas mask, Yon Ra taunts, "That's right, cry, you frurocing curoxy!"
A slow smile pulls up the corner of Katara's mouth; the kidnapper believed her charade. With Yon Ra's voice no longer muffled, Katara recognizes him as the man who tried to accost her. If he has thrown off his mask, it means that they are away from the smoke bombs. There were only two potential avenues for escape in the courtyard Yon Ra had absconded her from, the other two potential exits had been blocked by vendors' carts. With the ensuing pandemonium, Katara knew those exits would have been completely closed off. The rally cry of propaganda and general discord caused by the smoke bombs can be heard in faint bursts, which means they were either close to the palace or in the exact opposite direction, but not far from where she had been originally taken. Regardless of their exact bearings, Katara has to be in a secluded alley to prevent interlopers from intruding upon Yon Ra's nefarious plan.
Katara pretends to scoot away in fear. This subtle act gives her the final opportunity to free her hand; her other one easily slips from out of the knot. She doesn't let the rope drop but clutches it tightly behind her as a flash of insight rises up in a wave.
Paku white eyebrow arched, "Study closely," he sneered, "girl." Raising his arms, the snow rose up with billowing liquid wings. Katara flew across the packed tundra; flipping up her hand, she generated an ice spear and sliced through Paku's water shield. Spinning around, Katara kicked up a circle of water, which Paku shoved back onto Katara, drenching her. Paku generated snow shackles, booting Katara's feet to the ground. He motioned at her with his wiggling fingers. Sealed in the snow boots, Katara is drawn closer to her master. She jerked her arms upwards. The snow melted in a flourish of steam. Using the cover, she moves sideways to punch Paku in the arm in hopes of breaking his bending. Her fist almost made contact, but a rolling wooden barrel from behind crashed into Katara, making her fly up into the air. She landed in a puddle of water which iced around her. Her body imprisoned in the crystalline shell, she protested in struggling vane, "No fair! This was supposed to be a water fight!" Paku leaned down and patted Katara's head affectionately, "Dear Girl, when fighting, everything is fair."
"Don't have anything to say now, do you?" Yon Ra spits into Katara's face. The burlap hood shields her from the spray of spittle. "You could have had a good time with me, but you were high and mighty. You, some Southern boat trash, thought you were too good for a pure blood Fire Nation man. You'll regret that, along with every day forward when you join the other unfortunate slaves. But not before, I have my fill of you." He squats down onto his haunches and runs a hand down Katara's chest, ripping open her shirt. The buttons fly off the material, multiple pings resound upon the cobbled stones. Yon Ra claws at her bindings until one nipple is revealed. The pink rosebud makes him visibly sigh. Leaning back onto his heels, Yon Ra reaches into his pants. A hand runs up and down along his shaft in swift movements. Katara feels herself wanting to recoil but stifles her instinct.
Katara was hidden beneath the layered pelts. The soft fur caressed her chubby cheeks, as she slowly slunk along in her camouflage of hides. Gran Gran used a wooden spatula to transfer hot toffee date bars from a metal pan onto a wooden platter. The rich, sweet perfume funneled through the small opening that allowed Katara to see as she quietly crossed from her napping pallet toward the platter of her favorite dessert. Her chubby toddler legs pushed her closer until she was right beside the kitchen counter. With Gran Gran's back still turned, Katara weaved her hand up through the pelts' hole to deftly snatch a bar. As her fingers wrapped around the toffee goody, the wooden spatula cracked down onto Katara's knuckles with a smacking chastisement, causing her to immediately release the treat. Crying out with pain, Katara reeled back; her pelt facade fell back. She shoved her sore little hand into her mouth; big tears ran down her cheeks. Gran Gran bent down and gently rubbed away her grand daughter's marks of pain and embarrassment at getting caught. "Next time, wait for the right moment, I was to exit the kitchen soon, being too eager or too cautious can ruin a pan of delights."
Yon Ra can feel a building as his hand moves faster along his member, but the crescendo won't release. Frustrated, he ogles the southern slut's brown aureole and pink nipple. He runs the tip of his tongue along his lips but the sight of Katara's exposed nipple doesn't prove successful in sending him over the edge. Glancing behind him, there is a bright flash of two headlights and the muffled rumble of truck wheels. Yon Ra won't have time to fully take this curoxy. He looks at her burlap mask in agitation and realizes that it impedes him from seeing her fear. The mere flash of potential dominance makes Yon Ra inch closer toward his climax. His hand quickens in response and eagerness with the notion of seeing the brown exotic's terror. Reaching behind Katara's head, Yon Ra tears her mask brusquely over her face, yanking out some of her hair in the process.
Katara blinks her eyes. The dim light gives her immediate assessment of the situation, from the man's greasy locks hanging and triumphant gleam to a blocked alley end and only one exit ahead. Most of the feces that had covered Yon Ra looked to have been washed off in sloppy strokes; what hadn't been removed, had dried, flaking off during the run. A dirty trail of lines and a faint smell were the only hallmarks of his previous scuffle with Sokka and Aang.
Katara seizes upon Yon Ra's moment of basking glory and his hand firmly entrenched in his pants to jump to her feet. She swings out the rope from behind her back with a decided crack. The quick motion slides the loose knot down the length and tightens it into a weighted end. Undulating her weapon back and forth, she advances upon her startled adversary.
Yon Ra falls back in surprise, sprawling across the pavers. His pants unzipped; his phallus spills out of the opening and dangles limply. His apprehension at the reversal of his fortunes reduces his erect phallus to a minuscule size. Scrambling back, he looks around and notices the lights of the truck beaming down the alleyway. Katara keeps her fluid motion of the rope, pushing him against the brick building. Hurling one end of the rope at Yon Ra, he catches it with both of his hands. The act and squeal of wheels combine.
"Gotcha!" Yon Ra says triumphantly with the tightened rope in his grip.
Katara whips the rope around both of Yon Ra's clasped hands; yanking hard, she causes him to fall forward onto the pavers. The combined brunt force breaks his nose, blood pools. Yon Ra's arms are held out tied in front of him. Katara continues to loop the rope with several passes around Yon Ra's wrists, before finally creating a tight bind.
The truck screeches into the alley, as Katara finishes completing her knot. The vehicle skids around Katara. As it passes, she throws out the weighted rope end. It loops around the bumper, jerking Yon Ra forward and dragging him helplessly after the truck. The slamming of breaks makes the truck come to an abrupt stop. Yon Ra bounces along the cobbled pavers and then smashes against the truck's bumper and back wheels. He moans through his bloodied face, writhing in pain.
Two men fling open the truck's doors, scrambling out in disbelief. Katara doesn't wait to glimpse their identities. She spins on her heels and begins to dash down the alley. Her escape is impeded when a figure suddenly drops down in front of her. She glances up and only sees the surrounding rooftops as an explanation of his appearance. As Katara renews her fighting stance, she notices with blessed relief that the apparition is wearing the blue and white grinning mask, protruding incisors, and pointy horns.
"Sokka!" Katara exhales with explosive relief. She throws her arms around her brother. It is in that moment, the fear she had squashed down bubbles up into a choking sob. "Thank Yue!" She can hear a quick hitch of breath, as she squeezes him. Sokka's arms don't wrap around her in an answering hug. She drops her arms and examines him, punching his black clad shoulder playfully. "You could have saved time on playing dress-up and gotten here sooner." Backing up, the toothy-grinned mask moves up and down in review of his attire, closely fitted dark clothing and a sword diagonally strapped to his back. Katara whips around with fists raised. The odds of two skilled fighters are stacked heavily in their favor, she doesn't want to escape now but deal out a heavy dose of payback. "With you here, these cretins will seriously regret taking me."
The men run to the truck's bumper and take in the state of Yon Ra beneath the wheels, who is whimpering in his own pool of blood.
A skinny man in a light green tunic cracks out his disbelief at what was supposed to be an easy shipment retrieval. "What kind of crazy curoxy did Yon Ra get us?" A man with bulging muscles in a torn shirt and red scarf shrugs his agreeing confusion.
A feathered lizard flies out from the truck's cabin; flapping around the vehicle, it parrots back in a sing-song caw, "Crazy curoxy, crazy curoxy!"
"Pirates!" Katara cautions grimly, "Watch for their hidden bag of tricks." She holds out her fists, waiting for a standard Sokka wisecrack, like Aye, aye, matey or something along those eye-rolling lines, but none is forthcoming. Glancing over, Katara sees the Blue Spirit is slowly pulling out his sword. "Sokka, take off that dumb mask. You'll fight better if you can see." Ignoring her request, she irritatingly moves in front of him to flip off his disguise. Instantly a black gloved hand snakes out to grab Katara's wrist, preventing her removal action. The Blue Spirit mask whips around, staring pointedly at her with its mocking grin. Katara looks to her tightly held hand and knows Sokka would have made some ridiculous quip by now. This demon isn't her brother.
The skinny pirate with a wide-toothed smile that stretched from ear to ear cackles in glee, "Thanks, Blue Spirit for helping to trap this exotic curoxy. Yon Ra is right. She will fetch a pretty penny in the Earth kingdom."
Katara lashes out her other hand, placing it on top of the Blue Spirits' grip. She tweaks his wrist with a sharp flip, and the Blue Spirits' knees quickly buckle. She spins away. With a flying kick to Blue Spirit's gut, it shoves him away from her.
Distracted by her new opponent, the two pirates look to each other and shrug. They bellow out a call of "attack!" and jump onto Katara's turned back. She stumbles forward, but rolls off their advances with a drop forward, causing both men to fly over her in a heap.
The parrot's head bobs in time to its mimic, "attack the curoxy, attack the curoxy!" The lizard bird's taunting cry circles above the Blue Spirit.
The Blue Spirit looks above with a disgruntled shake of his mask. He reaches for his broad sword and makes wide sweeping gestures at the scraggly animal. The blade finally nips at a wing. The lizard bird yelps indignantly, while flapping up to the nearest building's roof for safety, "Crazy Blue Spirit, crazy Blue Spirit!"
The two pirates corner Katara, each one trying to make a grab at her. With the solid building behind her, Katara knows her back is protected from potential offensives. She begins to alternate back and forth between the men. The skinny one with a hanging earring is lithe and quick. She copies his movements with blocking parries. The broader pirate is heavier with his attacks; Katara avoids his pummels with dodging techniques. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the Blue Spirit run sideways along the wall. In a concurrent register of impressive shock and weighted dispirit that she has now three combatants to ward off, Katara hears an old echo of a paternal rebuke, "Katara, it is never cowardice to know you are outnumbered, escape, so you can rise stronger." She wants to knock some sense into her thick skull that she should have escaped when she had the chance, even when she thought the Blue Spirit was Sokka; but all her energy which should be directed to proper beratement must be channeled to avoid the real attacks, not metaphorical ones.
Landing open legged crouch in front of Katara, the Blue Spirit holds out his sword and arm as a shield. Confused by his vulnerable stance and simultaneous bearing of protection, Katara doesn't allow herself time to decipher this demon's motives. She grabs his free arm to swing him out of her way. With a yank, the Blue Spirit lurches Katara forward, making a wide arc kick straight into the skinny Pirate's jaw, who manages to yell testily before contact, "No fair, two against two."
The skinny pirate barely finishes his words, before the wide side of Katara's heavy boot makes contact with his long, angular jaw. As his face follows her blow's trajectory, a gold tooth flies out of pirate's mouth, bouncing across the pavers. The pirate falls to the ground, clamoring after his precious golden molar.
The other pirate roars with anger and charges at Katara and the Blue Spirit. The blue and white grinning mask and a girl with a black and blue cheek and dried blood next to her mouth nod at each other. They both stand ready as the irate pirate barrels forward with his head down as a battering ram.
The Blue Spirit flies effortlessly up into the air and alights onto pirate's back. The confused man stands, trying to throw the Blue Spirit off. This action makes the pirate's face level to receive the brunt force of Katara's roundhouse kick. Two front teeth are knocked out and blood gushes from pirate's nose.
The skinny pirate manages to locate his gold tooth a short distance away from Yon Ra, who begs, "help me!"
"Help you?" The skinny pirate protests in anger, while shoving his gold tooth back into his mouth. "You tricked us!" Seeing his comrade's state, he yanks out a knife from his boot and cuts the rope free from the truck's bumper. Yon Ra rolls away with relief. "You better hide under the nearest rock, Yon Ra, we're coming for you!" Calling out an indistinct signal, the skinny pirate runs to the front of the truck and clamors inside. The other pirate blindingly staggers after his leader, getting into the passenger's side.
Katara and the Blue Spirit watch the scene unfold, both readied. They follow the men as they enter the truck and slam the doors. The engine revs and swerves away. Gunning, the truck faces the Blue Spirit and Katara, gunning it speeds toward the both of them. The Blue Spirit seizes Katara's arm and leaps upwards, clutching onto a raised metal staircase. As the truck passes, a silver flash of knife whizzes out from the passing driver's window into the leg of the Blue Spirit. Crying out, he lets go of Katara who clatters to the ground. Her head and body hit the pavers with a thud. Blurrily, she tries rising but collapses unconscious.
Katara groans. Her head throbs and body aches. She starts with the last memory of battle and pushes to sitting. The motion makes her dizzy; her stomach lurches in protest at the sudden movement. She swallows down the rise of bile that coats the inside of her mouth. Lowering slowly, her cheek rests against something soft and warm. She runs her hand over it and dips and ebbs with the motion. She opens her eyes and sees blue satin.
Gingerly rolling to her side, Katara dimly makes out blue patterned saxifrage wallpaper which reaches up to the crown moldings. As she rotates onto her back, a chandelier tinkles from the breezes whisking through the balcony's open doors. Miraculously, Katara is back in her temporary bedroom.
Everything aches, but knowing she must assess the damage and heal it before Hakoda's knowing eyes detect something amiss, forces Katara from the fluffy bed's comforter. Sliding off the mattress, she tentatively places pressure on her feet to ensure proper stability. Satisfied, she stands. The bathroom is located only steps away, but it seems like an ocean league for the amount of piercing pain she endures walking there. Katara manages to reach the cold tile, ignoring the magic light switch. The only thing she trusts is her element.
The taps of the bath gush with water, pouring into the deep tub. Katara's body tingles with relief as she slips beneath the soothing, warm liquid. It slides and coats her body. Leaning back, she shuts her eyes and the water begins to glow blue. She must have dozed off and only sputters awake after sliding beneath the water. The bath overflows with the combination of her sinking further down into the tub and taps still rushing with fresh water. She quickly sits up and twirls the golden knobs, shutting off the flow of water. Inspecting herself, she runs hands along her skin to check for broken bones or needed spots to heal. When she darts over her nipples, she pauses as the memory of Yon Ra stroking himself folds into focus. She shakes off her remembered revulsion and finishes the small areas left to heal on her face and head. Leaning over, she pulls out the plug and throws it over the side of the tub. As she stands up, Sokka bursts into the bathroom.
The door strikes against the wall, Sokka breathes frantically inside the inner room. His fear and guilt at persuading his sister to leave the safety of the palace are assuaged at the sight of her. "Katara, Thank Yue!" Noticing his standing sister, glistening from the water and fully naked, he scrambles backward in alarm. His feet shuffle quickly in the pooling water which spilled from the tub. His feet slide out from beneath him. He screams, "My eyes!" With a hand shielding his eyes, Sokka attempts to get up and flea, but only manages to tumble into the puddle of water again. "My eyes are burning, naked baby sister, naked baby sister!"
Katara is elated, then beyond irritated at her brother's antics. For goodness sakes, they were bathed together as children. It's not like he hadn't seen her naked before. She angrily throws the nearest item to her, which is a towel. "Sokka, you came into my bathroom, remember."
The fleecy cloth whirls around Sokka's head in a flourish. He whips it off and tosses it back at his sister. Katara catches it, holding the towel in front of her. Sokka carefully turns away to stand, only to have Hakoda barrels into the room, knocking Sokka back into the puddle.
Whipping out a dagger, Hakoda frantically searches the bathroom, poised to attack.
"Dad, it's only us!" Sokka folds his hands over his head.
"Katara, Sokka, are you alright?" Hakoda bleary-eyed takes in the setting of his daughter in a towel and Sokka cowering on the floor. He moves into the interior that has only one entrance and scans the area with his dagger poised.
Katara is flustered that her bathroom has become the reunion juncture for her family. "Dad, I'm fine." She adds dryly, "Sokka may not be that fine, but we technically we're all fine."
Sokka declares, "Of course, I'm not fine! I'm scarred for life."
Hakoda lowers his blade and sheaths it back in his belt, where it is always kept safe and readied for a potential invasion. He rarely sleeps well and had taken a small dreamless draught before bed that evening. It had been debated, but the weight of tiredness which could dampen his daylight instincts proved convincing enough that he should take the sleeping aid. He dragged from a blissful sleep, with the panicked wailing of his son. Hakoda almost levitated in bed from the sound.
Hakoda glares disgruntled at Sokka. "Shut it, son, you do not get to be righteous after bursting in on your sister while she is taking a bath."
While her father rightfully reprimanded Sokka, Katara steps from the tub and secures the towel around her body. "Dad, it's fine. Everyone is jumpy since arriving here at the palace."
Sokka stands up and dusts off his soaking clothes with contrived nonchalance. "Exactly, how you cannot be jittery with this snake-pit of a royal family ready to strike at any minute. Makes perfect sense, thanks, Katara." He glances over surreptitiously at his sister, who is now concealed behind a giant towel. "I'm sorry, I startled you."
Katara smiles lovingly. Her irritation is overridden by seeing her brother safe and unharmed. "That's alright, Sokka. Thanks for worrying about me."
Sokka shakes his head, almost with panicked recollection. "You don't know how very sorry I am to have seen you. Like way," he stretches out the last part with extra emphasis until he finally has no breath left to speak. Inhaling, he gasps out, "way disgusting to see you."
"I said," Katara adds sharply, "It's alright, Sokka." She hugs her body tightly. He didn't have to react like she was some hideous vulture-weasel.
Hakoda perceptively scrutinizes both of his children. He knew their propensity for mischief. Either the effects of the draught still lingered or his exhaustion from the trip and impending days clouded his better judgment, but Hakoda didn't feel like slogging through his children's mixture of lies and truth that they deftly intertwined. Wearily, he turns around. "The moon has almost gone to sleep. If we want to survive the royal pomp and circumstance, we all should retire to our beds."
Sokka moves over to his sister. He quickly tries mouthing his cavalcade of questions. Katara's lips quietly fire out her own queries. Hakoda clears his throat. "I believe I was clear, to bed!"
Both children file out of the room past their father. As Sokka passes, Hakoda squeezes his son's upper arm with love and nods his appreciation for watching out for his sister. Sokka's chest puffs out with pride, and he almost struts to his own bedroom. As Katara slips by, Hakoda pulls her to him. He hugs her close. Katara sags against her father's solid and protective chest. She wants to blurt out the evening escapades, crying about the fear from being taken, the shame at her violation, and pride at managing to defend herself. She keeps the truth locked away. For no matter how much she longed to tell him, all the evenings' happenings would pale compared to the pressing sadness she would sustain for seeing her father's disappointment that she broke his edict to not leave the palace.
Hakoda rests his cheek against his daughter's wet hair. The smell of spring on the tundra always seems to float around Katara. The worry that he might have faltered in his paternal duty by bringing Katara to a palace, which is built upon blocks of treachery encroaches upon him. Yet, he had learned by early as a Chief of their dwindling village, the bitter price of hard choices, and so must his daughter and soon-to-be sole heir, learn the high cost of responsibility. "Katara, promise me, you'll always stay true to yourself and the Southern Tribe's values."
Katara whispers, "By the moon, father, I promise."
Hakoda follows suit in a low voice as if in a prayer, "By the moon."
After Hakoda closes Katara's bedroom door, she drops her towel. She searches through her drawers and locates a night dress and places it over her body. Katara wearily climbs into her bed, pulling the thick comforters to her chin. At last, a deep sleep claims her and she descends into the dream world. Katara isn't a stranger to dreams. They frequent her nights, especially long, cold winters on the tundra slopes of her homeland.
Sensuous warm water covers her. The sensation of luxury was the first thing she feels before the images appear from the blackness of her mind. She basks in its heady vibrations, which tingle her and fondle her skin in light touches. Her arms began to glide through the liquid with fluid strokes.
Turning over and over, the pleasure of embracing her element consumes her. A distant humming travels through the waters and up her body. It thrums deliciously, pulling her seductively towards the origin. She swims closer and three black chords appear from the void. Snaking nearer to Katara, the black ropes dance in a hypnotic carnal manner, guiding her ever closer to its waiting embrace. A feeling of peace descends as she lets herself be navigated. Abruptly, her body becomes rigid. She raises her drooping head as if it an awakening daze.
The black snakes snap in fury. They move in tighter mesmerizing circles entrancing Katara with their writhing motions. She finds herself drifting nearer. The black ropes resume their coaxing formation. As Katara's gets closer, her body stiffens and seems to recoil upon itself. The black tar-like ropes divide in rage, multiplying exponentially. The clear water churns into a black ooze. Rope-like extensions begin to shoot towards her.
Katara shudders with absolute fright. She finds herself clawing through the water with arduous effort. Her breathing is frantic and quick as she desperately tries to get away from the gathering black ooze. She carves through the thickened liquid, getting weaker with each labored effort. With a wrathful screech, the ooze sends out a long tendril of black. The oozing fingers grab hold of her leg, coiling upwards. She glances back and the eerie grin of the Blue Spirit and its jutting incisors smile back as it pulls Katara towards its opening mouth.
"Wake up!" Screams through her whole being with piercing cadence.
Katara bolts up in bed, breathing heavily. She looks around frantically and takes in the items of her bedroom. The balcony curtains billow, revealing the first fingers of the sun stretching beyond the horizon. Her blankets are twisted and she is damp with sweat, but everything is the same.
It's only a dream, Katara repeats in a calming mantra. Leaning down, she begins to straighten the covers. Throwing back the comforter and sheets, she reveals her legs. A black braid winds up her leg, ending at the crest of inner thigh of an impression clawing fingers.
The tiredness and confusion are eradicated with the mounting apprehension over the mark. Katara tries rubbing at it, but it feels sticky and tar-like to touch. She panics and races into the bathroom. She scratches at the blackened imprint with her fingernails, but it won't come off. The more she scrubs, the more it remains. Her skin soon looks raw and starts to bleed. She finally resolves to turn on the water, ignoring her fear at her dream. She sits on the edge of the tub, sticking her leg underneath the rushing water. Holding her hand next to her leg, it glows blue. Slowly the blackness ebbs away. The sun has fully yawned awake before Katara has managed to successfully remove all traces of the black circuitous line. The mark may be gone, but Katara can still feel it upon her, embedded beneath her skin.
A/N: I tried to make this extra long. I put in my favorite, Blue Spirit and pirates! Warning about updates, school is beginning. I will be swamped with projects and other writing. It may be a while before I can get out another chapter. That said, I will do my very best. I admit, I got things done in record speed because of your reviews, so keep them coming, dear reading public. Cheers!
