They could fly farther. They're only an hour from camp, and neither he nor Appa needs the rest.
But Katara hasn't moved, hasn't spoken since they left that coward quivering in the rain. She sits curled into a ball, eyes unfocused, unblinking.
It doesn't matter if Zuko is ready to go back. Only Katara matters now.
Before he can dismount, Katara latches onto his arm, nails biting into his skin.
"Why are we stopped?"
He eases her grip and looks deep into her eyes. "Are you ready to see everyone?"
She pauses, shakes her head.
"Then we'll stay here tonight."
"Sokka doesn't remember what she looked like."
She isn't certain why she's telling him this. He's been quiet, setting up camp on his own all evening, just waiting. The words come on their own, and she can sense him listening.
"I just realized that I can't picture her either." Her voice wavers. "Except for—after."
Golden eyes watch her. Katara's throat tightens. That day is burned into her memory forever. She wonders when she lost the rest of them.
Zuko's hand brushes her shoulder. "Katara—"
She shatters. But he catches her broken pieces and holds them together.
She feels safe.