Chapter 11
Once his parents had left the house for the morning, Takit frantically pawed through the drawer of his father's desk. After the Dai Li let him go yesterday, he had sprinted home and shoved the knife with the Truthspeaker symbol into the back of the drawer. He never wanted to see that knife, or any whalebone knife, ever again. He only wanted to bury his shame. No one could ever see it. No one could know that it even existed.
But he needed the knife for one last task. He had to remove the final traces of his shame. His groping fingers brushed against the smooth ivory handle, and he snatched up the knife. He dashed to the bathroom and pulled out his father's shaving mirror and propped it against the sink with shaking hands.
Then he grabbed the end of his wolf tail. He began to hack away with the knife. No more wolf tail. No more running from street gangs. No more jeers of "water peasant" or "blubber sucker."
Takit cried out as the knife slipped and sliced his thumb. With a violent jerk, he forced the knife through the rest of his wolf tail, eyes stinging with pain and tears as the hairs yanked free from his scalp. Once he had sheared through the last remaining strands, he flung the knife to the floor. The slate blade struck the stone tiles and snapped in two.
Breathing heavily, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His wolf tail was gone. The hair that remained was short and ragged and fell into a natural part to the side.
That night, Takit dreamed. He dreamed of Dai Li agents with eyes of solid jade, reaching into his mouth and pulling out his tongue like a ribbon until they pulled out the truth. He dreamed of bullies stabbing him with the dark blade of a whalebone knife, over and over and over. He dreamed of walls forming a rectangle of sky, people staring down at him from open windows, a silent audience to his torment.
As time dragged on, the bitter cold of the caverns penetrated the layers of Katara's parka despite the cloak of polar leopard fur draped around her shoulders. She stamped her feet, trying to work some feeling back into her toes. When her legs became stiff from standing for too long, she sat down next to Aang. Constantly splitting her attention between the passages and the walls and ceiling of the cave was exhausting. She needed a break.
Beside her, Aang sat with legs crossed in lotus pose and his staff on the ground before him, eyes closed and arrows shining. He was so still that he hardly seemed alive. Even his breathing was slow and shallow. The slight rise and fall of his monk's collar, its sun-gold edge emerging from the fur-trimmed neck of his own cloak, was the only indication that he was breathing at all.
He almost looked like he was meditating. But the difference, besides the luminescent arrows, was the expression on his face. When Aang meditated, he looked thoughtful, serene. At peace. His focus turned inward, like he was looking deep within himself. But when his spirit departed his body for the realm of the supernatural, his face was left completely blank, the emptiness of his expression reflecting the vacancy of his spirit.
This was the first time in months that Katara could just look at Aang, gaze at him freely without any awkwardness or guilt or jealousy. Awkwardness, because of how close they used to be and how distant they had now become. Guilt, because of how she craved that closeness again—how she wanted him, when wanting him would only put his life in danger. Jealousy, because of how anyone who was not Katara—the Air Acolytes, Takit, Sokka—could spend as much time as they wanted in Aang's company without any consequences.
And it was just her luck that her only opportunity to watch Aang was when the very essence that made him Aang was absent. She would have preferred to catch a long glimpse of him when he was doing something—showing off his airbending, for instance—so she could gaze at him while he was being himself, energetic and full of life.
But the glowing arrows reminded Katara that breaking off her relationship with Aang was about much more than keeping the boy she loved away from her, safe from her. Because he wasn't just Aang. He was also the Avatar.
Everything she did for Aang, she did for the Avatar, too. Living her life in the isolated southern pole of the world, keeping alive the hope that the Avatar would return someday. Supporting Aang in his journey to learn the elements. Teaching him to master the art of waterbending. Fighting alongside him against their enemies. Healing him, saving him, bringing him back to life. As long as the world still had the Avatar, there would be peace and hope. If the world lost the Avatar, especially in these fragile post-war years, there would be chaos and despair.
And Aang was the last airbender. If he died, the Air Nomads would truly become extinct, and the Avatar cycle would be irreparably broken.
No matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she wanted to be near him, Katara couldn't allow herself to put him in danger. What she wanted didn't matter. She would not be his stumbling block, the weight around his neck. She would not be the one to make him fall, even if it meant being separated from him. The world was not going to lose the Avatar or the Air Nomads again—and certainly not on account of a girl who was too selfish to stay away from him.
CRACK!
Katara whipped her head around and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes darted between the dark passageways. She jumped again when snow tumbled through the fissure in the ceiling, showering the floor in a cascade of powder and ice.
Just some snow and ice, she told herself as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. Probably broke loose from melting in the sun.
Still, she remained crouched in a waterbending stance, frantically scanning every surface of the cave for signs of suspicious activity.
But nothing emerged from the frozen walls or the shadowy passageways.
Katara's breathing began to steady, and she berated herself for letting her attention wander.
Ugh! I should be watching the cave, not watching Aang! How can I protect him if I let myself get distracted?
She cast a quick glance at Aang, who was still seated in lotus position, unmoving.
He deserves someone who can be his companion. His friend. Someone who won't drag him down with attachments. Someone who won't weaken him.
Someone…
who is not me.
Katara scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her mittened hand. The damp trails from her tears hardened into frozen streaks across her face.
I wish I had never fallen in love with him in the first place.
Why couldn't she have fallen for a nice boy from one of the Water Tribes? Or even someone from the Earth Kingdom? Why did she have to fall in love with the Avatar?
Because the Avatar was Aang.
And Aang knew Katara. He saw her like no one else ever had or ever will. They fit together the way the blade of a knife fit into the notch of the handle, each one carved and whittled until they joined together seamlessly. Aang was in every part of her life, in everything she did. By the time she laid eyes on his glowing form in the iceberg, he had already changed her life. He gave her hope. He gave her air to breathe.
Katara loved Aang. Not because he was the Avatar, but because he was Aang. And she knew that no matter what happened between them, she would love him for as long as she lived.
Unable to help herself, Katara glanced at Aang once more. His arrows still blazed with the light of his chi, brilliant stripes running over the crown of his head and across the backs of his fists. In the cold daylight diffusing through the caverns, he looked—
Wait a minute. Were his lips blue?
Katara quickly knelt in front of Aang, pushing his staff aside, and yanked off her mittens. When she put her palms to his face, she gasped. His skin was like ice.
She had touched skin this cold before—on people who had lost their way in the tundra, their legs too numbed and weakened by the frigid temperatures for them to find their way home. By the time they were discovered, it was usually too late.
No one could have skin that cold and still be alive.
But he has to be alive. He has to be! Katara frantically ran her bare hands over his cheeks, his forehead, his hands. Every part of Aang she touched was as cold as the frozen bodies she had helped drag back into the village. She could not detect the slightest trace of warmth.
Even though the cloak that Aang wore was the same as hers, he was dressed in only his winter Air Nomad garb underneath. As usual, he had declined to wear a parka when visiting the South Pole. As an airbender and a firebender, he'd once explained, he could heat the air currents around him to keep himself warm. Katara had felt the benefit of his bending when she would nestle into his arms, the two of them snug in a cozy oasis as icy winds gusted around them. But those were days gone by, memories of the past.
Neither of them had considered the possibility that when Aang's spirit left his body, his bending would cease as well. Without his bending, Aang had no protection against the cold. And without a parka, especially in the freezing temperatures of the caves, exposure to the cold meant certain death.
Katara took Aang's face between her hands, willing the warmth of her palms to penetrate his icy skin. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I be so stupid? Why didn't I think of having him wear a parka? Or at least bring one with me?
But she had no time to waste. She could chastise herself later. Aang was going to die from exposure unless she figured out how to warm him up.
She unhooked her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over Aang's own cloak. But that wasn't going to be enough. A double layer of cloaks was no substitute for a parka.
Then the solution hit her. The only way to warm up Aang was with Katara herself.
Katara cautiously moved Aang's fists apart, trying not to disturb his concentration. Or focus. Or whatever it was he needed to stay in the spirit world. When Zuko had kidnapped Aang from the Northern Water Tribe, his rough handling of his captive had not disrupted Aang's journey in the spirit world. Even so, Katara treated Aang with extra care. She didn't know what would happen if she did something to interrupt him in the spirit world. If he was in the middle of something, disturbing him might have unpleasant consequences.
She tucked in his arms close to his chest. That should help him retain whatever heat was left in his core. Then she would have to wrap him in something warm—and that something was herself.
Katara moved her hands to Aang's knees. She hesitated. I'm doing this to keep him warm, she told herself. It doesn't mean anything more than that.
She tugged at his feet, straightening his legs so that they created a small diamond. Then she settled into that space and folded her legs around his hips.
After she unbuttoned her parka, Katara gathered Aang into her arms. She did her best to wrap both sides of her parka around him underneath the cloaks, trying to cover as much of his upper body as she could. Aang always had a slender build, but he had filled out quite a bit at fifteen, and her parka was only made for one person. The edges of her parka left a wide strip of his back exposed. She tried to make up for this gap by bridging it with her arms. At least with two cloaks hanging from his shoulders, his back was not completely uncovered. She grabbed the edges of the cloaks and flung them over each of her own shoulders, using them to create a small tent to trap what little warmth they had between them.
Katara clutched Aang close, her torso flush against his and her arms and legs wrapped around him. The icy chill of his body seeped into her heart and turned her cold with dread. The only other time he had felt cold like this was when she had held his lifeless body in her arms, his singed clothing smelling of smoke and burned flesh.
She buried her face in his neck and stifled a sob. His skin was still stiff and as cold as ice. This can't be happening, she thought as tears ran down her face. Not again.
I can't lose him again.
But there was nothing she could do, except to hold him. And wait.
As moments stretched into eternities, as she counted each breath he took, Katara realized something. The reality of her situation with Aang became clear to her like the rays of the sun dawning over the horizon.
I can't stay away from Aang.
When Katara ran into Aang two nights ago, she had literally fallen into his arms. Seeing him so suddenly, when she was frightened and vulnerable, had stripped away the walls she had put up between them. The temptation to kiss him then had been very, very strong.
But at the trade meeting yesterday, she had been able to reign in the urge to be near him. Keep her distance. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him, but she had been able to stay away from him.
She had been able to stay away from him, that is, until later that evening. Until he had offered to look at her wrist, cradled her arm between his hands. Until he had soothed away her pain with the heat of his bending. Until he had asked her to come with him to the ice caves, the dark intensity in his eyes drawing her in to him. And she hadn't been able to say no. She had been helpless to resist.
I can't stay away from Aang, even when I know I should.
Pakku should have come with Aang. Not Katara. Even though she had mentioned Pakku as a last-ditch suggestion, Pakku would have been the better choice. The old waterbending master may be cantankerous at times, but he was a hard-nosed pragmatist. A strict taskmaster, Pakku had always insisted on awareness and preparedness.
A waterbender must always be conscious of their environment, was the mantra he had drilled into his pupils. You should never rely completely on your bending. You can use your bending to shape your environment to your advantage, but even bending has limits. If you're not careful, your surroundings can turn against you.
Pakku would have made Aang wear a parka, airbending or no airbending, and Aang would not be freezing to death right now. The veteran waterbender would have trained his attention on the cave walls and passageways instead of being distracted by staring at Aang. Pakku was clearly the better choice.
But Aang had asked Katara to come with him instead, because of their history together. And possibly, quite possibly, because he still loved her.
She had agreed to come, because she couldn't resist the pull of him.
And because she still loved him.
No, she chided herself, coming with him doesn't mean I love him. It just means that I'm selfish. It means that I want to be close to Aang, even if renewing our attachment to each other is only going to hurt him.
If Katara truly loved Aang, she would make sure she stayed away from him no matter what.
And she had tried. She had tried to do everything she could to stay away.
But being around Aang again—even his very presence folded itself around her, embraced her—had tested her.
And she had failed.
As long as we're around each other, as long as we're still in each other's lives, I cannot stay away from him.
I cannot stay away from him, no matter how hard I try.
Katara began to shiver. With her parka open and partly wrapped around Aang, the frigid cold of the cave leached through the gaps and stole away her warmth. If his spirit didn't return soon, neither of them was going to last much longer.
"I'm sorry, Aang," she whispered, her lips moving against his ear. "I know I should stay away from you, but I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you down."
She tightened her arms around his lifeless body, holding him even closer. But that did nothing to quell the tremors that quaked through her chest, the desperate attempt of her body to generate the heat she needed to survive. "Please c-come b-back, Aang," she said in short gasps, her words broken by her body's uncontrollable shaking. "P-please c-come back."
Knowing she might never see him open his eyes again, knowing she might never get another chance, she gritted her chattering teeth to say one last thing:
"I love you, Aang."
After Katara declared her love to his unhearing ears, she untensed her body and gave in to the tremors, letting them overtake her completely. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his.
Please come back, she pleaded silently.
I need you to come back, Aang.
Please…
Please come back.
Aang's shoulders shuddered, and he gasped.
A cry of surprise escaped Katara's lips as his body began to stir against hers.
He's back! He came back!
Katara hardly dared to believe that he was back, but she couldn't keep her heart from leaping with joy.
With the return of his spirit, Aang's body seemed to remember that he had to stay alive. He started to shiver violently in her arms. "K-Ka-t-t-tara?"
But Katara trembled so hard from the cold and from overwhelming relief that she couldn't respond with anything but tears streaming down her face. A sudden current of air stirred her hair loops, and the bone-numbing cold of the cave was replaced with what felt like mid-summer heat to her frigid skin. She continued to shiver as her body slowly soaked up the warmth, holding onto Aang, clinging to him. She was afraid that if she loosened her grip, he might disappear for good.
After her shivering quieted to the occasional shudder, after Aang's own shivers calmed in her arms, Katara became aware of how close they were. More than just close—their limbs were entwined around each other like winding vines of jasmine. She was sitting in his lap with her arms and legs wrapped around him, a position more intimate than they had ever allowed themselves when they were still together. Aang's arms had dropped to her waist, his hands beneath her parka flat against the small of her back. They were pressed so close together that she could feel the beating of his heart through the folds of his robes. The heat that warmed her body came not just from airbending, but also, now, from Aang himself.
"Um…" she began, blood rushing to her cheeks. When she turned her head to look at him, he mirrored her movement. She found herself barely inches from his face, peering into cloud-gray eyes. Eyes that she had been terrified she would never see again.
But the relief flooding through her drowned out any embarrassment she might feel. "You're back," she whispered through her tears.
Aang nodded, gazing at her with both awe and more than a little confusion. "I came back because I couldn't find the spirit. There was no sign of it in the spirit world." Then he frowned. "Did something happen while I was gone? Did the spirit show up in the caves?"
"No, nothing happened. Not…not exactly," she stammered. "But when you went to the spirit world, you lost your bending. The air currents you used to keep yourself warm disappeared. Your cloak wasn't good enough against the cold, and..." She trailed off, the terror of almost losing Aang—again—locking her words in her throat.
"You had to keep me warm," he concluded.
Aang always seemed to know how difficult it was for Katara to talk about him getting hurt or injured. And he always seemed to know how to fill in the blanks of what she left unsaid.
"Yes," she said with a smile, genuinely smiling for the first time since she'd run into him in that dark maze of tents two nights ago. She missed the way they felt the beats of each other's thoughts and finished each other's sentences. She missed their closeness. And now they were close again, in body and in spirit. She drank him in like she was back in the Si Wong Desert, gulping down water to quench her parched throat.
"Thank you for keeping me warm," he said, his mouth quirking into a smile of his own.
Aang must have missed their closeness, too, because his hands slid across her back, holding her like they had never been apart. His breath feathered across her lips. The heat in his eyes melted away what little resolve she had left.
If he kissed her, she no longer possessed the will to stop him.
They were drawn to each other, the pull between them irresistible. Ever since the night Katara ran into Aang, every encounter she'd had with him was like treading the well-worn steps of a familiar path, a path that brought them closer and closer together. Now they had met on the path, and there was no longer any space between them.
Another shiver seized her body, the sudden intensity of it making her gasp.
"Are you still cold?" Aang asked, his eyes widening with concern.
"Y-yes," Katara stuttered out as another shudder spasmed through her body. Now that she was no longer on the verge of freezing to death, the air that Aang had woven around them felt only lukewarm. His airbending and firebending might be enough to keep himself warm, but it wasn't enough for them both.
"I…I need to button up my parka," she said. She disentangled her arms and legs from around Aang and pushed herself out of his lap.
As Katara threaded the spindle-shaped ivory buttons through their small leather loops—first up one side to fasten the inner panel of the parka, then up the other side to close the outer panel—her fingers trembled. It sometimes took her more than one try to hook the button through its loop.
Aang had been on the brink of death. All because he had asked her, instead of Pakku, to come with him. And because she had agreed to come.
Whatever it was they still felt for each other had clouded both of their judgment. The attraction between them had almost gotten him killed.
I have to find a way to stay away from Aang, she thought to herself as she pushed another button through a stiff leather loop. If I really love him, I will stay away from him.
Katara had broken up her relationship with Aang so his attachment to her wouldn't cause him to lose his airbending. And today, she had witnessed firsthand what could happen if his airbending had actually disappeared.
But that wasn't even the worst of it. Even after he had already released his attachment to her, he had made choices involving Katara that put his life in danger. Or had he released his attachment to her, after all? Maybe he hadn't. How did that even work?
Like meditation, the subject of attachments was something that she and Aang hadn't often talked about. There really had been no reason to. Even though Katara loved everything about Aang, that didn't mean she needed to understand every aspect of his culture. Some parts of his culture, like his spirituality, had only sparked in her a passing interest. She had been content to watch him practice his spirituality without always understanding it, simply relishing the fact that he was a part of her life.
Or had been. He wasn't a part of her life any longer. She had thought that when she locked him out, and then when he burned her ribbon, that he had let go of his attachment to her. The realization that he may not have actually let her go sank in her stomach like a heavy weight. Or maybe he had let her go, but being so close to her these last few days had renewed his feelings—and his attachment—for her.
In either case, whether he had let go of her or not, one thing was clear.
Getting too close to Aang puts him in danger.
Once Katara finished buttoning up her parka, she raised her head to find Aang watching her. The expression on his face was thoughtful. Maybe even pensive. After a moment, he shrugged off the extra cloak she had draped around his shoulders.
I have to find a way to stay away from him.
"Here, you can have your cloak back. I think you need it more than I do," he said, holding out the fur-lined garment. But even though his manner was friendly, he quickly drew back his hands after she took the cloak, as if he was the one trying to stay away from her.
Because if I don't stay away…
As she swung the cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasp around her neck, Aang said, "You should probably warm up some more before we head back to the village. And I know just the thing."
…I'm going to be the death of him someday.
He stretched out his hand. Just above his cupped palm, a small fire flared into life. As the flame flickered and grew, Katara could almost see the curled length of her ribbon in his hand, writhing and twisting as it burned. Like a snake consumed by the flames, a viper that lanced through her heart.
Claws of ice seized her chest, and bile rose up in her throat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see anything except the memory of Aang torching his love for her, incinerating the tie that bound them to each other until it was nothing but ash.
Six months ago, Katara had tried to break the connection between them, but she couldn't bring herself to cut things off completely. Now, faced with the violent reminder that Aang was the one who had severed their attachment, she knew that all the tender moments they had shared in the last few days meant nothing. Those moments had only been echoes of the past. The reality was that Aang had let go of her when he burned her ribbon, and she had let go of him when she boarded the ship in Hai Bian.
And nothing in the world was going to change that.
She couldn't scramble away from Aang fast enough. The air around her was heavy and suffocating. She had to get outside. She had to breathe.
Until now, Katara had thought that staying away from Aang would be one of the hardest things she would ever have to do. But as her feet pounded over the ice-strewn ground of the cave, the memory of her burning ribbon strangling her heart, she discovered that nothing could be easier.
Author's note: If you liked this chapter, please leave some love ❤️ See you in two weeks!
