Katara held her face in her hands.

Or, she sort of stared at her blue, water covered hands,

And anyone would swear she was actually shoving her nose into her palms.

She could have healed the old man, true, but Zuko, that stubborn prince, had refused.

The old man was probably dead...it was a pity. She remembered the old man from the North Pole, for his knowledge and wisdom had touched her heart. Not many Fire Nation men were like that- not many men in any Nation were like that.

What disturbed Katara most was that she felt awful for the Prince.

Why was he so keen to regain his honor? Weren't Fire people all about honor? And a prince, of all people, had to have lots of honor. Why did that girl- Akukla? Ashula? Why did she look like Zuko? Was she his cousin? His sister?

Katara was so confused. That poor, beautiful boy. Could it be that Katara was only truly seeing Zuko now? Was he just sad?

And, suddenly, Katara's face was cold, out of her fingers. Her soaked hands lost their glow.

She slapped her face, her pride attempting to shake the thought from her brain and from her heart.

The worst part of all was that she would go to bed that night, shaken from her musings and hating Zuko more than ever.

She would hate him...

But she would have been right.

She was truly seeing him for the first time, and she was afraid that she liked what she saw.