Chapter 6

The leader of the street gang pounded his fist into his palm and started to close in on the boy.

The boy's back was against the wall. He couldn't run. His eyes darted from one bully to the next. They were too close. He would never be able to run past them without one of them catching him.

So he pulled out his knife.

When he drew the blade from its leather sheath, the street toughs froze. The dark slate blade seemed to suck in the harsh sunlight beating down into the courtyard.

"Get away from me!" he said, his voice shaking. The hand with the knife trembled.

"Ya git yerself a knife, eh?" the leader said, narrowing his eyes. "Whatcha gonna do, blubber sucker? Ya think ya gonna cut us up?"

One of the bullies on the boy's left stepped forward. The boy jabbed the knife in the bully's direction, making the bully halt and eye the knife warily. The boy tightened his grip on the polished whalebone handle, which was growing slick with sweat. His thumb found purchase on a rough spot on the handle, where a crude square within a circle was carved into the ivory—the Earth Kingdom insignia, but with a thick line gouged through it.

"I said get away from me!" the boy yelled.

Another bully started forward, this time on the right. The boy whipped around to point his knife at this new threat, but that turned out to be a mistake. Now that the knife was trained on a new target, the bully on his left hurled himself into the boy's side and bowled him over.

The boy tried to push the bully away, but the others piled on top of him.

They all went down together in a tangle of thrashing arms and legs. A rough hand wrenched the knife out of the boy's fingers. The hard point of an elbow slammed the boy's face into the ground. Something warm and wet trickled out of his nose. His breath was squeezed out of him by the crushing weight of several people on his back.

He couldn't get enough air.


The night before the trade meeting

"I'm pretty sure it's this way," Sokka said.

With torch held high, Sokka led Aang and the three Air Acolytes through a compound of tents in the Southern Water Tribe. They had arrived an hour ago. All of them were bleary-eyed from a trip that had compressed four days of travel into three, and all Aang wanted was to get settled in his tent and sneak in a nap before rustling up a late dinner. Chief Hakoda and the village elders had received him with surprise—there had been no point in sending a hawk that would arrive at the same time Aang did—and had greeted him and briefed him on tomorrow's meeting. The rest of his evening, now, was free.

Aang hadn't seen Katara, though. He had been hoping to talk to her, or at least lay eyes on her. But maybe it was for the best. This way, he wouldn't be too distracted to get a good night's sleep before the big meeting tomorrow.

Hakoda had apologized for not having accommodations ready for Aang and the Air Acolytes, since no one had known to expect them. He'd mentioned that some sparsely-used tents on the outer edge of the village were sometimes loaned out to guests, but that the Avatar and his companions deserved to stay somewhere closer to the village center.

But Aang had declined Hakoda's efforts to find "suitable" lodging for his status and insisted that the tents on the village outskirts were perfect. A simple tent or two were more than enough for him and the Air Acolytes. Just as importantly, it would be easier to icebend a shelter for Appa outside the village than to find space for a ten-ton sky bison between the tents and igloos.

Sokka had snickered when Hakoda agreed to Aang's request. Aang had the sneaking suspicion that the Air Acolytes' disappointed expressions were the reason for Sokka's amusement.

"This was how the Air Nomads used to travel," Aang had explained to the Acolytes, hoping to lift their spirits. "When I was living in the Southern Air Temple, we came to the South Pole all the time. We would pick cloudberries and go penguin sledding. And the Southern Lights were beautiful at night."

"That sounds amazing, Aang," Hei-Won had said. "Do you think we can do all that while we're here?"

"Uh…" Aang had just listed the things he used to do with Katara, hadn't he? He really didn't want to share those experiences with anyone else. They belonged to him and Katara alone.

But he and Katara weren't together anymore. And he really couldn't say no. He had to give the Acolytes something to look forward to. "Of course we can," he had replied, with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

Once Aang and the Air Acolytes had said good night to Hakoda, Sokka led the way to their tents.

Or, at least, he tried to.

Aang cocked his head to the side and studied Sokka with a skeptical eye. "Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Of course I do!" Sokka said with a huff. "I spent my entire life here. Most of it, anyway. I know this village like the back of my hand."

Aang looked at the tents around them. He was pretty sure a few more had been added since the last time he had visited. Not only that, this entire complex hadn't even existed until after the war had ended. "But the village has changed so much over the last few years," he said to Sokka. "Even I can tell."

Sokka gave him a confident grin. "Trust me."

Aang shrugged, not bothering to argue the point. "Okay. If you say so."

After several turns, however, they seemed to be winding through the tents in an aimless fashion. Certainly not in the direction of the village outskirts.

Aang took one look at the glazed looks on the Air Acolytes' faces and decided that they couldn't go on like this. "Sokka," he said, pointing at the horizon. "Why don't we try to get to the edge of the village first? It'll be a lot easier to find our tents that way, instead of wandering around in here."

"It's not like we're lost or anything, but we could try your idea," Sokka replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

Aang fought back a smile as he passed his friend to take the lead. "If we keep going this way, we can make a right where the path branches, which should take us closer to—"

He never had the chance to finish his sentence. A figure in a blue parka suddenly hurtled around the bend and ran right into him.


Katara crashed into someone in a flurry of yellow and orange. The person she ran into threw their arms around her shoulders to keep her from falling. They staggered together for a few steps before she regained her balance.

When she raised her head, she looked into gray eyes that widened in astonishment. "Katara?"

"Aang?"

Katara couldn't stop staring at Aang. The arrow arching over his forehead. His warm eyes. The soft curve of his lips. His shoulders, shrouded in a carmine-red cape that flowed down his back. For over four months, she had thought about him, missed him, dreamed about him. She'd watched the village entrance, pointlessly hoping that she would see him standing there someday.

And now he was here. He was really here.

Katara expected him to drop his arms from around her shoulders, but he didn't. Maybe he'd seen the panic in her eyes. Or maybe it was the way she shrank into him when Amarak came barreling around the corner.

The big Water Tribe man pulled up short when he saw them. His eyes went from Aang to Katara and back again to Aang. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm the Avatar," Aang said in a steely tone. He tightened his arms around Katara, as if to keep her away from Amarak. "Who are you? Why are you chasing Katara?"

"We were having dinner together. She ran out on me," Amarak said, huffing from the effort of running. "Stuck me with the bill."

Aang gave Katara a questioning look.

She shook her head. "Don't listen to him, Aang. He's lying."

"I'm a liar now, am I?" Amarak raised his eyebrows. "And what about you? You're not seeing the Avatar anymore, are you? Or is that just something you're telling everyone?"

"I'm…"

She hesitated.

Amarak fixed her with a penetrating stare. "You're what?"

I'm not seeing Aang anymore, she told herself. I need to say it. Out loud.

But as she stood in the familiar warmth of Aang's arms with his cheek pressed against her forehead, the words wouldn't come.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," she said instead.

Amarak narrowed his eyes at Katara. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you're a sly little mink snake, aren't you?"

Aang's body went rigid with anger. "What did you call her?" he growled.

Amarak held up a hand to appease Aang and started to back away. The beaded strands of hair around his face swayed as he shook his head. "I'm not getting caught up in your games, Katara. Whatever it is you're up to, I won't have anything to do with it. You won't be making a fool out of me."

He looked straight at Aang. "She's all yours, Avatar."

Then he turned on his heel and stalked away.

Once Amarak was gone, Katara breathed a sigh of relief. The nagging voice in her head said that if she really loved Aang, she would stay far, far away from him.

But being close to Aang—his arms surrounding her, his head nestled against hers—felt so natural. It felt…

It felt right.

No! I can't think like that, Katara told herself. It's dangerous to think like that. She forced herself to lean back in his arms, create some space between them. He loosened his arms in response, but he didn't let go of her completely.

"Thanks…" she began, and stopped herself before she said sweetie. "…Aang."

Not knowing what to do with her hands, she smoothed out his cape over his shoulders. "I'm sorry about all that," she said. "Amarak is a creep and a total jerk."

Aang shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about." Then, in a low voice meant only for her, he said, "Are you okay?"

His tender concern unlocked something in Katara, and all the terror and anxiety and relief of that evening came crashing down on her. The sudden rush closed up her throat. Aang was still looking at her, waiting for her to say something. His gaze was a gentle caress upon her face.

The urge to kiss him was very, very strong.

"Who was that slimeball?"

Sokka's voice punctured the moment between her and Aang. Her brother shook his fist in the direction of Amarak's ungracious exit. "I'm going to teach him a lesson for bothering my little sister."

"That was Amarak," Takit offered helpfully. "Apparently he's a big shot in the village who wants to marry Katara."

"What?" Aang and Sokka exclaimed at the same time.

"Katara and I were having dinner when—"

"Takit?" Aang said, his eyebrows knit together in confusion, as if seeing Takit for the first time. "You're here, too?"

Oh, right. Katara had completely forgotten about Takit. That was when she noticed several other people in orange and gold robes shivering behind Aang.

"You guys know each other?" Sokka said as his gaze went from Takit to Aang. "Can someone please fill me in on what's going on?"

Katara stepped away from Aang to introduce Takit to the rest of the group. As she explained the reason why Takit was in the South Pole and why Amarak was pursuing her, she felt Aang's eyes on her the entire time.

When it was Aang's turn to give introductions and tell the story behind his journey, a wave of dread washed over Katara. She was going to be in trade meetings with him all day for the next two days. They would probably end up taking a few meals together, too.

How was she supposed to stay away from Aang when they were about to spend most of their waking hours together over the next few days? She had to speak to him if she was going to participate in the trade discussions. Eating with him would be unavoidable, too. She hadn't seen Sokka in months and wanted to spend some time with him before he left. Who knew when she would see him again? But that meant Sokka's traveling companions—specifically, Aang—would join them, as well.

Though if Katara was honest with herself, she wanted to spend time with Aang, too.

And she hated herself for wanting that.

As much as she had tried to push Aang away, as hard as he had tried to let her go—she almost flinched at the memory of her ribbon going up in flames—the attraction between them was too strong. They were two magnets, drawn together by forces they couldn't resist.

But they couldn't be together.

"What happens when Air Nomads lose their spirituality?" she had asked Takit in the tea house in Ba Sing Se.

"Their airbending abilities would weaken," he had answered.

Katara had watched Aang die once already. The lightning that ripped through his body had almost torn her apart, too. She remembered how his hands, warm at first, had grown cold by the time she reached Appa. His face, frozen like a wax cast. The blank half-moons of his eyes showing through the gap between his eyelids. His mouth open, his lips pulled back from his teeth. He had been surprised when he died. And in excruciating pain.

She had seen the mask of death only one other time in her life—on her mother.

Katara had brought Aang back to life, but she knew full well that he would die—again—someday.

But she vowed that she would not be the reason for him to die a second time.

I can't drag him down, she told herself. I cannot. I will not.

She had to stand firm. She had to fight the urge to be near him. She had to make sure that when Aang left the South Pole, she didn't find herself jumping into Appa's saddle and flying away with him.

Katara knew what she had to do. But knowing was a lot easier than doing.


Aang tossed his satchel into the corner of the tent and dropped onto the low bed with a groan. He buried his face in his hands, his mind swirling with confusion.

He had quite literally run into Katara. Or, rather, she had run into him. Why had he been so surprised? The Southern Water Tribe was her home, after all. He was going to see her sooner or later.

But he hadn't expected to see her only an hour after his arrival, and certainly not while she was fleeing from a man who was pursuing her. Aang had hung on to her and held her close before he fully realized that it was Katara who had collided with him. Almost as if he had known it was her by instinct.

When she had lifted her head, when he had glimpsed her face, all he saw was Katara. Nothing else existed but her. Her bright blue eyes, wide with fear. Her body, leaning into him as if she knew his arms would keep her safe. His hands had clasped her back over the thick braid that reined in the mane of her hair. He hadn't touched her hair in so long.

The Katara who had run into him tonight was very different from the Katara who had avoided him in Ba Sing Se. That Katara had refused to look at him, left the room when he showed up, and acted like he didn't exist. And then, in Hai Bian, she had said the words that finally shattered his heart:

"I wish I had never followed you out to the balcony that day."

The happiness and wonder of their love in the early days, the depth and passion that their love had grown into in later months—she'd told him that she wished none of that had ever happened. She could not have made herself more clear.

But this Katara, the Katara in the Southern Water Tribe, was an entirely different person. This Katara had clung to him while he held her in his arms. He could have sworn that she was going to kiss him—she'd had that soft look in her eyes that she reserved only for him. Against his better judgment, he had almost kissed her. He would have, too, if Sokka hadn't interrupted them.

When Aang and Katara were still together, Sokka would sometimes barge in on them or trample their moments together. Those times had been accidental—for the most part. But Aang suspected that Sokka's comment tonight had been a well-timed intervention.

For once, Aang was grateful for his friend's interruption. What would have happened if he had kissed Katara? Would she have kissed him back? Or would she have pushed him away?

And if she had kissed him back, then what? Would they have gone back to the way they were, before she'd locked him out of her room six months ago? Or would kissing her have tangled them up in that murky area that blurred the line between friends and lovers?

But not kissing hadn't stopped them from entering the gray zone of being friends-but-not-just-friends. The way she had looked at him. Burrowed deeper into his arms. Ran her hands over his shoulders. Aang had been in the gray zone enough times before to know what it felt like.

And then there was the way she had answered Amarak's question.

"What about you? You're not seeing the Avatar anymore, are you? Or is that just something you're telling everyone?" the big Water Tribe man had demanded.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Katara had replied.

What she hadn't said struck him more than what she had said. In fact, she had dodged Amarak's question altogether.

So what did it mean? Did she still love him, after all? Did seeing him, being so close to him, stir up old feelings?

Something Amarak had said bothered him, though.

"I'm not getting caught up in your games, Katara."

Aang knew better than to put much stock in the words of a bully lashing out at being rejected. But he couldn't help feeling that Katara was…well, not playing games, exactly. More like carrying a tempest of confused emotions inside of her, and he was caught up in her storm.

After all, she was the one who had told him that they never should have been together in the first place.

Katara's words—I wish I had never followed you out to the balcony that day—rang in his mind like a terrible echo. Her words still had the power to cripple his heart, if he let himself hear them too clearly. On bad days, they haunted his waking hours and followed him into his dreams. Whenever he was seized by the urge to write to her or pay a visit to the South Pole, he would remember what she had said, and the idea would die like a blossom wilting in the summer heat.

"I wish we had been friends from the beginning. Nothing more."

Those were the words of someone who didn't want anything to do with him. Not anymore.

Aang didn't doubt that she had meant what she'd said in Hai Bian, the day she had left him for good. Katara was not one to do things halfway. But she did not change her mind easily, either.

So when she ran into him tonight, why hadn't she pulled away once it was clear she was safe from Amarak? Why had she acted like she still felt something for him?

"Whatever it is you're up to, I won't have anything to do with it. You won't be making a fool out of me," Amarak had said.

None of this made any sense. His heart was being pulled in opposite directions. If the pull became too strong, his heart would tear apart. Again.

And Katara, of course, was at the center of it all.

But he was drawn to her. He couldn't help it.

Like a spiderfly to a flame.

And yet…

He wanted to see her again.

Aang sighed. Amarak is a smarter man than I am, he thought. Because I'm a fool. A heartsick fool.

He rubbed his hands over his face and finally opened his eyes. His eyes had been closed for so long that even the soft light from the whale oil lamp made him squint.

Aang heaved himself to his feet and cracked open his tent flap. The inward rush of frigid air made him blink a few times. The moon, with its belly growing rounder every night, had moved from the apex of the sky to just above the horizon, a glowing lantern hanging over the dark water. It was getting late, and he needed to go to bed.

He closed the tent flap and picked up his satchel and set it down by the bed. After pulling out his sleep robes, he rummaged around until his fingers hooked around a loop of cloth. He drew out the cloth strip and held its length between his hands. His thumb rubbed the pattern of interlocking black triangles, the stitching smooth and supple from years of handling.

Aang always meditated before going to bed. Meditating before bed used to calm his troubled thoughts and fill him with peace. Not so much anymore. But he still kept it up. He could no more stop meditating than he could stop breathing.

But it had been months since he had meditated while holding Katara's ribbon. Four and a half months, to be exact. After she had left Ba Sing Se, he had stuffed her ribbon deep inside a drawer of blankets that he never used—the same spot where he used to keep a cloth soiled with the stain of his guilt, a cloth that was now burned into ash. It would seem he had no shortage of mementos to hide.

Even though her ribbon was out of sight, the drawer had drawn his eye whenever he was in his room. Maybe that was why letting go of Katara had been so difficult. Letting go was impossible when he still held on to a piece of her.

When Aang had received Zuko's request to mediate the trade meeting in the Southern Water Tribe, he had dug out the black-and-white ribbon from the drawer and stuffed it in his bag. He didn't really know why he had brought it with him. For some reason, he had thought he might need it.

And it turned out he did need Katara's ribbon. He had much to meditate on tonight. Lowering himself to the tent floor, Aang wrapped the length of cloth around his hands, crossed his legs over his knees, and closed his eyes.


Author's note: Life is still crazy for me and I have almost no time for writing, so the next chapter will come in two weeks or possibly longer. If I don't update in two weeks, I will aim to post on a Thursday whenever I eventually get to update. Thanks for reading!