Author's note: I usually use author's notes for logistical and housekeeping stuff, but I'll address something here that a few people have brought up, because that probably means a lot of people are thinking about this, too. It may seem that the breakup could have been avoided if Katara had just talked to Aang about her concerns about his airbending (despite not being able to trust any reassuring answers he might give her). Rest assured, I would not be writing a long multi-chapter story if the plot truly hinged on a simple problem with a simple resolution! Also don't forget that Aang has been completely and permanently cut off from his culture, and a cultural disconnect like that has many ramifications.
Now, on to the story!
Chapter 5
"You can run, but ya can't hide," said the leader of the street punks.
Cold sweat poured down the boy's back. They were closing in. His eyes darted from one bully to the next, desperately searching for an opening but finding none.
"For someone who sucks on blubber all day, yer nothin' but skin and bones," the leader continued. The sneer he wore, along with his upturned nose, gave his face a permanently squashed look.
"I don't suck on blubber," the boy protested. "Blubber comes from seals. I haven't had seal for ages."
"'I haven't had seal for ages,'" the leader said in a singsong falsetto. "Then what do you suck on? What's that disgusting slurping sound when you water peasants eat?"
"I don't slurp! I drink soup. From my stew," the boy said. "That's how we eat soup. Sometimes we make noise when we eat. To show we like it."
The leader turned to the other bullies with outstretched arms. "The water peasant says he don't suck blubber. Do we believe him, boys?"
"He sucks blubber the way Little Gopher's sister sucks face with that goat dog boyfriend of hers."
"Shut yer hole! Don't you talk about my sister!"
"Nah, he sucks blubber the way he kisses his mama," another one drawled as he made obscene smooching noises that echoed against the dingy walls. The cruel laughter of the other bullies filled the boy's ears.
The leader smacked his fist into his palm as he took another step forward. And another. And another. "I think yer lyin'. Yer a blubber sucker. But yer not livin' up to yer name, with them bones stickin' out like that." His lips curled into an unpleasant smile, baring rows of crooked yellow teeth. "Maybe we oughta help ya out. Soften ya up a bit."
Four months after the breakup
A globe of water arced through the air, stretching into a teardrop shape and catching the sun before splashing back into the ocean. Katara swept her hands in a half-circle below her waist, moving from one side to the other, as she guided the globe through the larger mass of the ocean.
Push through the water, pull through the air. Push, pull. Push, pull. Over and over. The same waterbending exercise she had always done with Aang, only she no longer had a partner.
No, that wasn't true. She did have a partner. Gravity.
But gravity didn't stand across from her, knee-deep in the water, moving in a rhythm that only the two of them knew. Gravity didn't smile or smirk or gaze at her in a way that made her heart flutter. Or talk about serious things. Laugh about silly things. Tease her with sly banter. Or start a water fight that ended with them locking lips. Or snuggle with her under a towel as they dried off in the sun.
Every morning, Katara would push off in a canoe and paddle between the icebergs until she reached the open sea. There, she would waterbend. She would waterbend to find her center and start the day with peace and calm. Sometimes, she would practice different techniques or try out new methods she had invented. But mostly, she would waterbend to take her mind off of Aang. Even though much of the time, Aang was all she could think about.
Waterbending on her own was an escape for a different reason, as well. Katara was sixteen years old, and sixteen meant she was ripe for marriage. On top of that, she was the chieftain's daughter. From the moment she set foot—alone—in the South Pole four months ago, the older women of her village began to eye her as a prospective daughter-in-law. Everywhere she turned, auntie after officious auntie attempted to foist her son on Katara.
The eligible bachelors of the Southern Water Tribe ranged from Katara's age to more than a decade her senior. Some of them had left to fight in the war and had returned home in times of peace. Others were the sons of families who had fled to the Earth Kingdom or the North Pole and had come back to resettle in the South. Most of the men had no real interest in Katara and only suffered their mothers' efforts at matchmaking out of a sense of duty.
A few of the men, however, did havetheir eye on Katara. She was certain that none of them gave a flounder's fin about Katara herself. But they wouldn't leave her alone. The gangly Nanouk tripped over his own feet as he wooed her with strips of seal jerky or a newly carved whalebone knife. Yutu, an overly friendly warrior, pestered her with endless invitations to dinner. The cocky Amarak strutted in front of her, confident that his sophisticated Northern manners and his family's powerful status would win her over.
But none of them were Aang. There would never be anyone like Aang. Nights in the South Pole had always been cold, but now they also left her heart empty. All the evenings that had been filled with Aang's laughter and warmth—and there had been so many—were nothing more than memories. These were the memories that kept Katara company as she curled into a ball in her bed, falling asleep only when the tears on her face cooled in the chill air. In the mornings, she would wrap her blankets around herself, pretending that Aang was holding her. She missed him so much that her hands would ache.
And then the letters came. Four in total, written in Sokka's hand. The letters had almost broken her and sent her running onto the deck of the next ship sailing for the Earth Kingdom.
Aang won't come out of his room. He just sleeps all day, read the first one, which arrived shortly after she had left Ba Sing Se. I've been leaving meals outside his door, but he hasn't touched anything on the plate, read another. Then the worst one of all: Aang still won't open the door. I hear him moving around sometimes, but not as much as before. He won't talk to me or anyone else. It's like he's given up.
When Katara had said goodbye to Aang on the docks of Hai Bian, she had been ruthlessly blunt. She had told him that they never should have been together, even as part of her—the part that cherished their love—died inside of her. But she did it because she had to. She had to make sure any hope he might have left for them was extinguished. She had said those things because their separation had to be final. Irredeemable.
And she had said those things because they were true. The pain of knowing that she would be his downfall one day played no small part in spurring those words. As did the pain of watching him set her ribbon on fire.
But seeing Aang's spirit crumble in front of her had almost devastated Katara. Forcing herself to turn away from him and walk up the gangplank, her feet dragging like leaden weights, was one of the hardest things she had ever done. It had taken everything she had to make herself stay in her cabin until the ship had cast out to sea.
After leaving Ba Sing Se, Katara had worried about how Aang was getting on. Even though he had let go of her—the flames consuming her ribbon burned a hole in her heart—that didn't mean he wasn't suffering. For Katara, letting go of Aang had torn her spirit in a way that may never be repaired. If he was as heartbroken as she was, he couldn't be doing well.
So when Sokka's letters came, her heart cracked under the weight of her brother's words. Reality was crueler than she had imagined.
Katara was torn between flying aboard the next Earth Kingdom ship or staying firmly put in the village. I can't go back, she tried to tell herself. Going back will put him in danger. I'll only hurt him by going back.
But her absence seemed to be hurting him more.
The next merchant ship headed for the Earth Kingdom wasn't due in for another week. Katara packed her bags and calculated the route over sea and land that would bring her back to Aang in the shortest amount of time possible. Then came reports of rough seas, and the ship was late. She paced restlessly and snapped at everyone around her and hiked to the harbor several times a day.
While she was waiting for the ship, the fourth and final letter arrived. It was from Sokka again. She wished that Aang was the one writing her instead, but she knew better than to expect that. The letter said that Toph had broken Aang out of his room, and he was performing his Avatar duties again. Apparently, Aang could get on without Katara after all.
Even though she was relieved, the letter pierced her like an arrow. Aang was starting to move on. She needed to find a way to move on, too.
But moving on was easier said than done. She caught herself glancing at the village entrance, as if she might glimpse Aang standing there like he had three years ago, staff in hand, a ray of sunshine in the snow. She would remember how he had left her life just as suddenly as he'd entered it, and how her heart had broken for this stranger she'd known for barely two days. He had come back, of course. Aang always came back.
But Aang wasn't coming back this time. Though Katara stood and stared at the horizon where the ocean met the sky, she knew he wasn't coming back. It's for the best, she told herself. He'll be safe from me.
Aang was free from her. Free from his attachment to her, the attachment that dragged him down. Now that they were apart, she would no longer be the reason why he lost his airbending. She would not be the reason why his gale winds dwindled to a useless breeze, or why he could no longer glide through the sky. She would not be the reason why his enemies struck him down because he could only summon a whisper, when he used to command the wind.
Airbending was in everything he did, the air gracing his every step, his every move. Airbending was not just a part of Aang. Airbending was Aang.
Katara would not be the reason why Aang lost his most powerful element. She would not be the reason why he lost first himself, and then his life.
If he wanted to marry someone else, there was nothing she could do to stop him. But she would not be the one to marry him. She would not be the one to make him fall.
So Katara's days were plagued by unwanted suitors and thoughts about Aang. She became very good at keeping busy. Chores around the village were suddenly engrossing, and she found reasons to use waterbending to help people with even the most mundane tasks. She attended meetings with her father that she would have gladly skipped over in the past. If there was any chance she might be chieftain someday, she had reasoned, then she'd better start learning. Besides, the chieftain's daughter was too busy for trivial matters like courtship when there was a village to run.
And, as always, she had waterbending. Her favorite waterbending spot could only be reached by sled. Every morning, she would climb aboard her sled and bend her way over the snow fields west of the village. She would glide over the previous day's tracks until she reached the edge of the field, which ended in a sharp dropoff—at least a two hours' hike by snowshoe. There, she would bend a slope in the cliff down to the icy shore, where she had hidden her canoe. This part of the coast was protected by towering ice cliffs, completely inaccessible to anyone who wasn't a waterbender. No one in the village knew where she disappeared to, and no one could follow her if they tried.
As Katara launched another water globe into the air, a deep horn blast resonated over the ice floes. In the distance, the hulking shape of a large ship coasted toward the village harbor. She let the globe splash back into the ocean, picked up her paddle, and rowed back toward land. A special visitor was here, and he had been the talk of the village for the last few weeks. The villagers weren't the only ones excited to see him. She'd been looking forward to seeing him, too.
Katara had just finished dragging her canoe ashore when she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She squinted in the direction where she thought it had come from. All she saw was several ice formations like stout pillars in the distance, scattered along the coast. Probably just koala otters scurrying over the snow, she thought as she bent a dome of ice to hide her canoe from view.
She settled atop on her sled, belly-down, and was about to push off when she raised her head for one last look.
Good thing she did, too. A flurry of ice daggers shot out from behind one of the ice columns. This time, she knew she wasn't imagining things.
A waterbender!
Katara crouched low and bent the ice beneath her sled, flying across the coast toward the pillars. She leaped off the sled just before one of the ice formations and dashed to the spot where the ice daggers had come from.
No one was there.
Instead, she found several round depressions—small craters about the size of her palm—sunken into the snow. The hollow of each depression was perfectly smooth, so they couldn't have been made by the feet of humans or animals. Even more curious, they formed rows of eight craters each.
Several boot prints tracked around and through the rows of craters. The boot prints veered away from the craters and suddenly ended. But the place where they ended was where a pair of long streaks indented into the snow began. The streaks ran parallel to each other, interrupted at regular intervals by slanted skid marks, almost as if—
As if someone was skiing.
Whoever was here must have skied away when they saw me coming.
Katara bent down to examine the ski tracks. The gouges ran through the snow and into the ice underneath, and the angled skid marks were much shorter than those made by any ski she'd ever seen. Whoever had been here must have skied away on just their boots.
Definitely a waterbender, then.
Besides Katara, the only other waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe was Pakku. But Pakku practiced his waterbending forms on the coast north of the village, just outside the village walls. He had no reason to waterbend in secret, either.
But if the waterbender wasn't Pakku, then who was it? Why were they keeping their identity hidden?
And why did they run away?
Luckily for Katara, they had left her tracks to follow.
She hopped back on the sled and sped over the icy shore, the ski marks guiding her to the bottom of a sheer cliff. Undeterred, she bent a steep slope into the cliffside and, riding her sled, icebent her way to the top. Once there, she found herself in the snow fields, where she continued to follow the tracks.
Not surprisingly, the trail eventually led back to the village.
Once Katara reached the outer ring of igloos and tents, she dragged the sled behind her as she made her way to the village square. The main paths were deserted, and even the older folk who gutted fish and tanned hides between the tents were nowhere in sight.
When she reached the village square, she propped the sled against a rack of hunting spears and squeezed her way through the crowd. The people of the village had gathered around her father and the elders and two figures in knee-length green coats. One was a short Earth Kingdom woman with a proud face, deep in conversation with the village elders. The other was a Water Tribe boy who wore a dazed expression.
"Katara! There you are," her father said, waving for her to join them. "Professor Song Ming, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Katara."
The professor broke away from her discussion with the elders and studied Katara from under an elegant fur-lined cap. She bowed with a gloved fist pressed to her palm. Katara bowed back, returning the Earth Kingdom salutation.
Hakoda turned to the Water Tribe boy, who was a jarring anomaly in his green fox-antelope coat amidst a sea of blue sealskin parkas. Like his professor, he also wore a fur-trimmed cap. He did not have to remove his cap for Katara to know that underneath lay not a wolf tail, but a full head of short, dark hair neatly parted to the side.
"I believe the two of you have already met," Hakoda said, nodding at Takit.
Katara extended her hand, unsure if Takit would reciprocate, or if he would bow like he had when they'd first met in Ba Sing Se. But they were in the Southern Water Tribe now. Just as Katara had gone back to wearing her hair in a braid, Takit would be expected to greet another Water Triber with a handshake. "I'm glad you could make it, Takit."
She was gratified when Takit reached out his hand and gripped her elbow in a firm handshake. "Glad to be here, Katara."
"Welcome home, Takit," Hakoda said, giving the boy a hearty clap on the back. "I'm sorry your parents couldn't make the journey. We were hoping to see them, too. They'd been away for almost fifteen years."
"My father had business that he couldn't leave behind," Takit said with an awkward chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair. "You know how that is."
"Yes, of course," her father replied, but his smile didn't mask his disappointment. Then he spotted someone in the crowd and waved, his face brightening. "Ah! Sakari! We've been looking for you."
The person he was waving to was a girl about Katara's age with hair loops braided in the typical Southern fashion and glossy twin braids worn over the shoulders. She had just joined the ranks of the villagers milling around Song Ming and Takit. She tried to push through the crowd, but she was too timid to make much headway. Fortunately, the villagers saw that she was being summoned by Hakoda and moved aside for her.
Once the girl emerged from the crowd, Hakoda introduced her as Sakari, and Katara and Takit each greeted her with a handshake.
"Thank you for coming all this way, Takit," Sakari said. "I hope the journey wasn't too difficult."
"I hear there's been some trouble with pirates, but Chief Hakoda sent an escort to meet us. So the trip went as smoothly as I could hope for." Then Takit gave her a warm smile. "Thank you for inviting us here. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."
Sakari looked down and fiddled with the end of one of her braids. "Oh, uh, it was nothing. I just thought you would be the best person to study the caves," she mumbled. "You and the professor, I mean."
"And we are grateful that you thought of us," Takit replied. "This really is a wonderful opportunity."
About three months ago, a group of children playing in the snow fields chased a snow rat into a hollow in a mound of ice not far from the village. The hollow turned out to be a cave, and the cave was part of a network of caverns that seemed to extend—for miles, perhaps—below the surface of the massive ice sheet underlying the snow fields. Further exploration of the caves revealed walls covered with etchings that resembled drawings and symbols. Sakari, who had moved back to the village with her mother last year, was the one who had suggested inviting Takit and Professor Song Ming to investigate the caves.
Sakari had grown up in Ba Sing Se and she'd heard that Takit was studying lost cultures at the University under a professor of anthropology. Everyone in the small Water Tribe community in the City of Walls seemed to know each other—or, at least, of each other. The war had driven many families away from the South Pole in search of a life far from the endless Fire Nation raids. Now that the war was over, some of them had returned from overseas. The influx of people moving back to the South had filled the Tribe with a sense of hope and triumph. Families that had split apart were whole again. Friendships that had been broken were renewed. And now, the people of the Southern Water Tribe were overjoyed that one of their own was coming back to help them make sense of the mysterious ice caves.
"All right," Hakoda said. "Now that we've all been introduced, why don't you show Takit where he's staying, Katara?"
"Sure thing, dad."
"We normally house special guests in my family's compound, but our guest lodgings are reserved for the government officials attending the trade conference next week. It's a…delicate situation," Hakoda explained to Takit. "So we're setting up you and the professor with Tapeesa's family. Tapeesa is famous for being an attentive host. I hope that arrangement is acceptable to you."
"Of course, Chief Hakoda! I completely understand," Takit replied.
Katara beckoned for Takit to follow her. "I'll take you to Tapeesa's igloo so you can drop your things off. Then I can give you a tour of the village."
She started to lead Takit away from the crowd, but she halted at the edge of the square before entering the village proper. "Listen," she said, turning to face him. "I'm really sorry about how last time went. The last time I saw you, I mean. At the teahouse in Ba Sing Se."
Takit just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."
Katara felt like she had to explain, even a little, her strange behavior that day. He deserved that much for putting up with her. "There were some things I needed to know. And, um…"
But she didn't really want to talk about it, either. "Anyway, thanks for answering my questions," she ended up saying. "And I'm sorry I was so rude."
"Hey. Like I said, it's all right." Takit tapped a gloved hand nervously against his coat and seemed eager to change the subject. Katara didn't blame him for feeling uncomfortable. She was sure he had made the connection between her questions about attachments and airbending and her breakup with Aang.
Takit surveyed the village, which was coming alive again—children running between tents while villagers returned to repairing canoes and smoking fish over fire pits. "All of this is really bringing back memories. I never thought I would see this village again."
"Then let's get you settled, and I'll take you to my favorite place for pickled fish," Katara said, taking his arm and starting down the main path. "You're in for a treat. The Earth Kingdom doesn't know how to do pickled fish the Water Tribe way."
"Maybe not, but the Water Tribers in Ba Sing Se have figured out how to ferment fish in a place that isn't cold all year long," Takit replied smugly. "My mom is famous for her pickled fish, and the aunties are always after her for her technique. She's happy to show them, but she doesn't give away all her secrets. No one can get that briny flavor quite like she does."
"That's amazing, Takit!" Katara said. "I'd love to try your mom's pickled fish…" She trailed off as she caught herself about to say when I go back to Ba Sing Se.
But I'm not going back to Ba Sing Se.
She saw Aang in her mind's eye, and the familiar ache in her heart returned.
Not for a long, long time.
"…someday," she finished lamely.
At the thought of Aang, Katara turned to look over her shoulder—not at the village square, but at the village entrance, as if merely thinking about Aang would make him reappear like he had three years ago. Yearning for Aang was a habit she could not stamp out no matter how hard she tried.
But as her eyes traveled across the village square, she saw something that piqued her curiosity.
"Hey Takit, did you and Sakari know each other in Ba Sing Se?" she asked.
Takit shook his head. "No. I've heard her name before, but we haven't actually met until today."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Why do you ask?"
"Because she's just standing there in the village square, staring at us."
The night before the trade meeting
Katara observed the other diners in the eatery as she and Takit slurped down bowls of sea prune stew. The village elders had monopolized Takit's attention during the first few days of his arrival. After they were done discussing plans for him and the professor to explore the caves, Katara had somehow landed the role of acting as his guide for the past week. But she didn't mind. Even though she barely knew Takit, the fact that she had already met him in Ba Sing Se made her feel a special kind of connection to him.
The large tent that housed the eatery was packed with people, from mothers corralling young children to old men huddled around steaming bowls of stew. She knew everyone there, or at least their stories. Many of the younger women had stayed in the village during the war to raise their children. The men with wind-weathered faces had battled Fire Nation forces on distant shores, and most had taken part in the invasion on the day of the eclipse.
Katara saw newer faces, too—families with teenagers around her age. These were the people who had left the village during the war to escape the constant threat of raiders and moved back after the war was over. Many of them had found refuge in the Earth Kingdom. A small minority had sought shelter with their sister tribe in the North Pole. But not everyone who had left chose to come back. Most of the Water Tribers who had escaped to another land had been unwilling—or unable—to leave the new life they'd created for themselves.
There was something different about these families who had resettled in the South Pole. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what, though. Something about the expressions on their faces, or their manner of carrying themselves. Even their hairstyles. The clumsy way some of them moved in their parkas screamed Earth Kingdom. They were still Water Tribe, but living in a foreign culture for many years had molded them into a different shape.
Katara's mind was occupied with these families—the ones who had returned to their homeland after more than a decade—and thoughts of ice daggers and craters in the snow.
Any of them could be the waterbender.
Katara chewed on a sea prune, using her teeth to scrape off bits of fruit from the pit as she pondered the identity of the mystery waterbender. She had already ruled out Pakku. The waterbender couldn't be anyone who had stayed in the village during the war, either, since her mother had died to protect the last remaining waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe—which was Katara herself.
What if the waterbender was someone who had immigrated to another land, where the Fire Nation could not hunt them down? Nothing could provide better protection for a waterbender than living in anonymity.
But the war had ended two years ago, and the Avatar had returned. There was no reason to fear Fire Nation raids anymore. Why, then, would the waterbender want to keep their talent hidden?
Maybe for the same reason why Mom lied to save me. So they wouldn't be discovered by people who could hurt them. Maybe old habits die hard.
Ever since Katara had first spotted the ice daggers thrown by the mystery waterbender, she had tried to catch them in the act. She kept a sharp eye out for anything unusual during her morning waterbending sessions. But the waterbender must have known they'd been discovered, because she didn't see any signs of waterbending again. So she changed her tactics. At random points in the day, she would sled along the ice cliffs, scanning the shore below for any evidence of waterbending. She even checked stretches of coast that she hadn't visited before. But she came up with nothing.
She supposed she could ask around in case anyone saw anything or knew anything. But the better part of wisdom kept her quiet. If the waterbender was going to such lengths to conceal their identity, openly trying to discover who they were could be dangerous or drive them deeper into hiding.
Frustrated with both the waterbender mystery and the stubborn bits of fruit clinging to the pit, Katara spat the remains of the sea prune into her spoon and dumped it into the growing pile of pits on her plate. Takit was lost in his own thoughts, delicately sipping broth from the bowl of his spoon.
"You know," she said with an amused smile, "it's okay to slurp your stew. We're not in the Earth Kingdom anymore. No one will think it's rude."
"Oh!" he said, startled. "It's, uh…I'm used to eating like this now. I don't slurp anymore. You could say it got…beaten out of me."
Katara's eyes widened. "Tui and La, Takit—"
"Oh no, no, no," he interjected, waving her concern away. "Not literally. I got teased a lot for slurping when I eat, that's all. And smelling like pickled fish. And my hair. And…a lot of other things."
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice softening with sympathy. "I know that growing up in Ba Sing Se must have been hard for you. I didn't realize how hard."
He chuckled awkwardly and raked his fingers through his hair. "It's no big deal. Just kids being stupid. You know how that is."
Katara suspected that the kids who had teased Takit had been more cruel than stupid. But he had dropped back into a brooding silence, so she let the matter drop.
"So, the trade conference is tomorrow," she said, trying to revive the conversation. "I'll be in meetings all day for the next couple of days, but I can still get dinner with you."
His face lit up at her suggestion. "That sounds great! I'll have plenty to keep me busy anyway. The Professor and I still have a good stretch of cave to explore, and there are still so many carvings to copy down. I can't wait to get back to Ba Sing Se to see if any of the carvings are related to the cave drawings of the ancient Gulow people of the Fire Nation. Did you know that the Fire Nation continent used to be part of the same land mass as the South Water Tribe?"
Katara smiled as Takit chattered on about people and cultures from eras that had long been forgotten. She didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about, but she would rather have him talk her ear off than see him ruminate on what were clearly bad memories.
As he rambled on, Katara's thoughts drifted to the upcoming trade conference. The ministers of commerce from the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation had arrived yesterday in a huff of pomp and circumstance. The next two days would hold tense discussions—heated disputes, probably—about "Water Tribe" pirates attacking merchant ships.
As the Hundred Year War dragged on, trade between the Southern Water Tribe and the rest of the world had dwindled until it was nonexistent. Now that the war was over, demand for resources from the South Pole had exploded. Only the South Pole was home to non-hybrid seals and whales, which provided fur for Earth Kingdom winters, blubber and oil for novel fuel-efficient machines, and whalebone for the hairpieces of Ba Sing Se socialites and Fire Nation elites.
Merchants from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation eagerly jumped on these lucrative markets. But in recent months, pirates had begun attacking merchant ships traveling through the South Sea, which bordered the northern shores of the South Pole. Curiously, Water Tribe ships had been spared. To protect themselves, Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation merchants traveled to the South Pole escorted by an armed fleet. When they tried to enter the South Sea, Katara's father sent Water Tribe warships to meet them and ordered them to leave.
Chief Hakoda then decreed that no armed vessel, aside from the merchant ships themselves, were permitted to enter the South Sea. The scars inflicted by Fire Nation raids ran too deep. Instead, he offered to provide Water Tribe warships as an escort for merchant ships traveling through the South Sea.
Deeply offended, the Earth and Fire nations accused the Southern Water Tribe of harboring pirates. The trade ministers from those nations prohibited their merchant ships from entering Tribe waters without an armed escort—for their own protection, of course—and they turned away Water Tribe ships from their ports.
When trade with the Southern Water Tribe ground to a halt, each of the three nations insisted on holding negotiations on their own soil. But Chief Hakoda refused to meet anywhere except in the South Pole. And since the Southern Water Tribe controlled the rare and valuable resources in question, the other nations had no choice but to agree to his conditions.
This was the exact type of situation that Aang would normally get involved in. But no one had mentioned anything about expecting his presence, and he hadn't sent word that he was coming—to Katara's relief. She knew she couldn't avoid Aang forever, though. He was the Avatar, so he was bound to show up in the Southern Water Tribe sooner or later. But if he ever came to the South Pole on Avatar business, she would probably have at least some advance warning. That would give her time to arrange a convenient trip to visit Toph or enjoy a solo vacation on the beaches of Ember Island.
The trade conference would also be Katara's first major political event as the chieftain's daughter. In the four months since she'd returned home, she had mediated disputes between her fellow villagers, which sometimes made crossing paths with the people involved uncomfortable for a while. But navigating tense international relationships was completely different. This was usually Aang's job, and she didn't envy him one bit.
"You look like you could use some company."
The deep voice that interrupted Katara's thoughts instantly made her cringe.
Amarak.
The broad-shouldered man towered over the table she shared with Takit. Strands of hair adorned with blue and ivory beads framed a face that most women found ruggedly handsome. But not Katara. His insistence on only wearing clothes in the square-cut Northern style was pretentious. And the way he acted like Katara owed him her attention made her skin crawl.
He swaggered over to her side of the table and settled into the chair next to her. "I hope you don't mind if I join you for a bite," he said, winding his arm around the back of her chair.
"I do mind, actually," Katara said stiffly. "You're also interrupting the dinner I'm enjoying with my friend."
Amarak looked down his nose at Takit. "Who, this guy?"
Takit's mouth twitched into an uncertain smile. "Um. Hello," he said, clearly confused by this new development.
But Amarak ignored him. "Two seaweed noodles and a plate of seal jerky, Silla," he called, waving down a man in a blue smock who was balancing an armful of empty bowls.
"You know what, we were just leaving." Katara snatched up her parka and hauled a wide-eyed Takit to his feet. She glared at Amarak. "Enjoy your seaweed noodles."
Takit reluctantly followed Katara as she dragged him toward the exit. "Don't we have to pay?" he said in a nervous whisper.
"Don't worry. I come here all the time, and Meriwa knows I always pay. I'll find her later. She'll understand. Besides," she said with a smirk, "maybe she'll make Amarak pay for everything."
Then they were through the tent flaps and on the snow-covered path. The sun had almost set, and dusk had turned the bright white of the snow into a deep blue. Torches had been lit to fend off the dark, their flames creating pools of light along the village paths.
Katara pulled on her parka, jamming her arms into the sleeves. "That Amarak! He's such a jerk! Ugh!"
"Does he…do this a lot?"
She scowled. "He acts like he's the hottest catch of the village, and he thinks he can convince me to marry him."
Takit blinked. "Oh…okay."
"But the problem is, I don't want to marry anybody. And I definitely don't want to marry him." She thrust her hands into her mittens. "But he won't take a hint, even if it slaps him in the face."
"I see…"
"Who does he think he is, anyway? He thinks he's so great, growing up in the Northern Water Tribe. Somehow that makes him better than the rest of us backwater nobodies."
"Um, Katara…"
"After he and his family moved back to the South Pole, he's been acting like he's Tui's gift to the village. He expects me to fall all over him every time he flexes his biceps."
"Katara—"
"What?" she snapped, annoyed at Takit's persistent interruptions.
Takit was peering through a slit between the tent flaps. "I think Amarak is coming after us."
"Oh, monkeyfeathers."
"Monkeyfeathers?"
"It's something Aang used to—" Katara cut off as a flood of memories she'd shared with Aang came rushing back.
"Never mind," she said, pushing away thoughts of Aang. "Let's get out of here."
She grabbed Takit's arm and began to march away from the eatery when Amarak burst through the tent door.
"Hey! Katara!" the big man yelled. "You can't just leave and stick me with the bill!"
"Oh yes I can," she muttered under her breath as she rounded a bend with Takit in tow.
The crunch of footsteps in the snow behind them picked up speed, prompting Katara to walk faster. "This way," she whispered as they entered a maze-like cluster of tents. "We can lose him in here."
"Katara!"
Amarak's voice sounded too close for comfort, and her fears were confirmed when he appeared behind them at the far end of the path.
"You think you can get away with anything because you're the chieftain's daughter," he said, advancing on her and Takit. "I'm about to show you that you're wrong."
"Come on, let's go," she hissed, tugging on Takit's arm.
But Takit stood rooted to the spot, staring at the large man bearing down on them.
"Let's go." Katara yanked Takit's arm and hurried down a branch in the path. Takit tripped over his feet and almost fell, but at least he had snapped out of his trance and started moving.
"You can't run, Katara." They were out of Amarak's sight, but his voice carried between the tents. "This village is only so big."
"He—He's still following us," Takit stammered.
"I know," she said through gritted teeth.
"Can't you do something?" He flapped a mittened hand back and forth. "You know…with waterbending?"
She stepped through a narrow space between two tents and onto another path, and Takit followed her through.
"His family has important connections to the Northern Water Tribe. We're rebuilding our tribe here in the South, and we depend on resources from the North to do that," she explained. "So I can't do anything aggressive, or things could get complicated."
Amarak's father, Ivuluk, was one of Chief Arnook's most trusted friends. The Northern Water Tribe had been generous in sharing its resources, but since they held the pursestrings, they also held the power to reshape the South—into the Northern tribe's image. But Ivuluk had been vital in making sure the South's interests and needs were not drowned out by the overbearing dominance of the North. His influence has also helped the South obtain more resources from the North than they would have otherwise.
All this, unfortunately, meant that Katara had to be careful not to offend Ivuluk's family—including his son, Amarak.
"Uh…aggressive isn't really what I had in mind," Takit said nervously.
Katara tapped a finger against her chin. "I should be able to slow him down, though. We could lose him that way."
She raised walls of ice from the ground to block off the entrances to the tent area. "That should do it," she said. "Let's go."
Waving for Takit to follow her, she turned left at a tent that sat by several racks of fish hanging out to dry. Two more turns up ahead, and they would reach the edge of the village. Once there, she could bend a sled out of the ice. I'll take Takit to my waterbending spot. Amarak can't follow us if he tried.
"There you are."
Katara gasped when Amarak emerged onto the path up ahead. "How did you…?"
"Didn't I tell you? You can't run from me," he said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her and Takit.
There's no way Amarak got around my ice walls.
Unless…
Unless he's the waterbender.
Amarak's family had fled to the North Pole during the war when he was a young boy. He could very well be a waterbender, with waterbending masters to teach him from childhood. And if he was a waterbender, he was probably a master himself, with many more years to hone his skills than Katara had.
But if he was the mystery waterbender, why was he practicing in secret? Why would he and his family keep his ability hidden from everyone else?
And Pakku hadn't mentioned anything about waterbenders among the people who had moved back from the North Pole. That would mean Amarak had learned waterbending in secret, as well. But why?
Whatever the answers to her questions were, they couldn't be good.
Katara didn't want to stick around to find out. Not like this, alone and lost in a deserted maze of tents in the dark-blue twilight. Well, not alone, exactly—she did have Takit. But he was just one more person to protect.
And her hands were tied by the politics between her family and Amarak's family. She couldn't touch Amarak, and he knew it.
Amarak was moving down the path and closing in on them. She whirled and grabbed Takit's arm and started to run back the way they had come.
Katara hated feeling powerless. She was used to being strong, through bending or the force of her will. She was proud of being strong. But she had to swallow her pride and her strength for the sake of her tribe. Because not only were her tribe her people, but their fate was also her fate.
As she and Takit pounded around a bend in the path, the icy fingers of fear began to creep into her heart. She was no stranger to fear. The fear that came with battling her enemies—heart pounding, stomach clenched, balancing on a knife's edge between the thrill of the fight and the utter dread of losing a limb, her life, or someone she loved. The fear that came with not knowing if someone she cared about—usually Aang—was safe. But the fear that came with being helpless, powerless to do anything to defend herself, was a different kind of fear.
And it was terrifying.
Her feet couldn't move fast enough. Katara didn't know where she was going, other than away from Amarak. She had to get back to the safety of the village proper. She didn't know what Amarak wanted with her, but he wouldn't dare try anything in front of the other villagers.
She took a turn at random, and another, and another. Every turn she made took her and Takit farther from the edge of the village. Some paths between the tents were dimly lit, with torches few and far between. Other stretches, with no torches at all, were almost completely immersed in darkness.
But Amarak was fast, and soon he was only a few armlengths away. Desperate, Katara made a sharp turn at the next branch in the path, where she stumbled straight into Aang.
Author's note: I know that was quite the cliffhanger, so I'll post the next chapter one week from now so you're not left hanging for too long!
