A/N: Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! It really makes me feel less stupid about how bad my writing is – I try, but I'm rusty and I don't practice enough and it shows. Knowing some people don't completely hate it makes me feel a lot more motivated to work at it.
Um… so… yeah… romance and stuff. I can't remember ever writing straight romance before, just incidental stuff happening in the background while some other character is flailing around being funny. I feel like I didn't set the mood or tone well enough, but at this point I think the only way I could fix it is to leave it for several months and then come back to it with fresh eyes, so, here it is. The pacing especially feels off at the end, but I'm trying to set stuff up for the next chapter, and bleeeeh.
Okay, enough self-conscious self-critiquing, here's the next chapter!
Part III : Shyness
o
As Iroh said, that evening around dinnertime Katara was sent for.
She had spent her afternoon reading, the books Iroh left for her being more than enough to keep her attention. There were several firebending scrolls, a reprinting of the memoirs a 200-years dead woman who was apparently widely considered to be the greatest airbender in recorded history, and a particularly interesting book that looked at the four bending disciplines from an anthropological perspective. There was also an anthology of stories titled Tales from the Spirit World. A quick look showed Katara that the book held versions of several of her favorite stories from childhood, like "The Ocean's Youngest Daughter" and "The Good Pirate", along with many unfamiliar ones. A smile flitted across her lips as she remembered sitting around the fire on long winter nights, listening Gran Gran retelling local legends she had picked up on her journey across the world.
However Katara wasn't a child anymore, and after her initial perusal she put the book of spirit tales back on the shelf and selected instead anthropological bending study. She was sitting cross legged on the bed, the book laid out in front of her when a scratching sound at the door made her look up.
The scratch came again, this time accompanied by a little chitter. Katara closed the book and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She silently went to the door and pressed her ear against it. There was more chittering, along with several more rapid scratches punctuated by a tiny thud, all sounding as if they were coming from low to the ground. Cautiously, Katara opened the door a crack, looked down, and, seeing what it was, let the door open the rest of the way.
At her door was the most austere rabbit-squirrel she had even seen. The creature swiftly inclined its little grey head, eyed her again, and let out a short, meaningful chitter. Katara gaped.
"Uh… hi?"
The rabbit-squirrel glared – she thought it glared at least, though it seemed an odd thing for it do – and made an impatient motion with one of its forepaws, putting out the light the girls had been reading by, before chittering again. It then turned around and began scampering towards the stairs. For what felt like the tenth time that day Katara refrained from questioning it too much and simply followed.
The rabbit-squirrel led her out onto the deck where there was a table set with dinner for one. As she approached Katara spotted Iroh's candle floating beside it. The rabbit-squirrel scurried up the leg of the chair and unto the top of the headrest where it stood at attention.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Jee," came Iroh's voice. As if by magic a large leechee nut appeared in front of the rabbit-squirrel, who made more chattering sounds as if to say that the entire task had been far beneath him, but took the nut anyway and began the task of cracking the shell.
"Lieutenant Jee?" Katara said, approaching the chair. "That's a cute name."
She had been hoping to win the rabbit-squirrel's favor by complimenting him, but her comment seemed to have the opposite effect because Lieutenant Jee glared at her again before turning back to Iroh and chattering something.
"If you would go to my nephew and keep him company until I return, please, then you may be dismissed," Iroh answered. With a resigned little bow of the head the Lieutenant leaped to the ship's railing and ran off. "Now, Master Katara, please have a seat. I hope you enjoy your meal, though I am afraid you will be dining by yourself tonight."
"Oh," said Katara as she sat down, self-consciously fingering the blue leather bracelet she still wore from the village. "You won't be joining me?"
"No, I am sorry. I believe my nephew needs some… company tonight. And besides, I do not eat. Half in the world of spirits, half in the world of mortals, and I am afraid that my stomach is part of the half that is in the spirit world." He gave a jolly chuckle, his stomach's absence apparently not impairing his belly-laughing abilities.
Katara laughed along with Iroh at his joke, though inside she was thinking how hard it must be for him, having lived this strange half-life for so long. She found herself again wondering what had happened to him, and how it was he was related to the intimidating blue demon-spirit he seemed to so care for.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I must attend to my nephew," Iroh said. "Will you be able to find your way back to your room when you are finished or should I send Lieutenant Jee back to escort you?"
Katara winced. "No… no. I think I'll be able to find it myself, please don't bother the, uh, Lieutenant," she answered hastily.
"Very well then," he said. "Please, enjoy your meal. I will see you tomorrow when I bring you your breakfast."
Katara smiled in the general direction of Iroh's voice and thanked him before watching the candle disappear around the tower. She then at her meal in solitude, listening to the cicadas.
o
After being assured by Iroh that she was free to go wherever she liked as long as she stayed within the inlet, Katara spent most of the next day exploring the ship. She saw the water-logged galley (she had before taken an outer door into the tower) filled with flowers and frogs and large gold fish swimming around in the muddy water; she even saw a birds' nest up in the rafters. She went all the way up to the observation deck where she saw dozens of beautiful roses, the undamaged versions of the one Aang had picked for her and she had found in her brother's fist. She explored the other floors of the command tower, discovering a couple rooms that were locked and even more that were covered in dust and cobwebs, unvisited for years. The room she was staying in along with the one she had waited in yesterday – which, remembering the delicious tea and the book about tea and putting one and one together she assumed to be Iroh's – seemed to be the only ones habitable, save perhaps those that were locked.
After having explored everywhere above deck Katara started to go below, but didn't go farther than opening the door that led down. She didn't have a candle or torch with her, and, remembering that her only experience with the place had been far from a pleasant one, she decided not to bother to go in search of a means of light but to instead stay above, in the sun. She couldn't imagine there would be much down there save a rat infested engine room, cells, and dank bunks.
That night she again ate dinner alone, though Iroh kept her company and entertained with stories of his adventure pre-invisibility. Katara honestly didn't mind. Iroh, disconcerting lack of visibility aside, was very good company. And besides, barring surly rabbit-squirrels, she could only assume that the only other possible dinner guest would be the blue demon-spirit and she wasn't exactly keen on meeting him again.
When she returned to her room that night the fading flowers by her bed had been replaced with fresh ones. The next day she thanked Iroh, assuming her had been behind it. However, he seemed confused as to what she was talking about, and assured her that he had had nothing to do with it.
Katara ate dinner alone again that evening, and for every evening after. And every night when she went back to her room to sleep there was a fresh bouquet by her bed.
This didn't change until one night about a week into her strange captivity when Katara went out to the main deck around the usual time for dinner to see someone else at the table – someone very much not invisible, and much, much larger and bluer than a rabbit-squirrel.
Katara's heart dropped to her stomach – it was the demon spirit, who she had not seen since her first day aboard. His back was to her, and for a moment she considered turning tail and running back to her room, but what would be this use? She knew she wouldn't be lucky enough to live forever on his ship and never come in contact with him
Leaving without the spirit-demon's knowledge she was there was out of the question anyway, it would seem, because a second later he jerked his head in her direction as if having heard a sound. Seeming startled by her appearance he hastily stood up, knocking over his too small chair in the process.
"Master Katara," he said in his deep, raspy voice. This was followed by a stiff but practiced bow.
It took the waterbender a moment to realize that her mouth was open, and she quickly closed it. She swallowed thickly around the lump of apprehension in her throat and concentrated on keeping her breathing even.
"Hello," she said.
The spirit blinked at this, as if it wasn't what he was expecting. Katara blinked back, it having not been what she was expecting either. Just what she had expected herself to say though she didn't know; proper protocol when greeting your captor from another plane of existence hadn't been something she had ever expected to need to be familiar with. Maybe she should have taken a closer look at the spirit tales…
After several more silent heart beats passed, the spirit spoke again.
"Don't you want to eat?" he asked roughly, indicating with an impatient fling of his hand the table set for two. Annoyed, Katara opened her mouth to snap back that no, she didn't want to eat, that she had suddenly lost her appetite. However she quickly thought better of it, shut her mouth, walked to her place, and sat down primly in her chair.
Staring at her the entire time as if he didn't trust the girl enough to take his eyes off her, as if she were dangerous, the spirit righted his chair and sat down across from her. Never one to be so frightened that she was willing to back down from a challenge, Katara met his stare with one of her own; out of the two of them she certainly had more reason to be wary, after all.
The spirit demon was the first to look away, clenching his fists where they rested on the table and blowing a short puff of steam from his nose. Katara chalked it up as a win and turned her attention to her dumplings, which were rapidly turning cold. As expected she had little appetite, not with the 7-foot demon spirit sitting feet away. She made a show of nibbling at her food anyway, though she mostly just pushed it around her plate.
Katara glanced up to see that the spirit was staring at her again. She scowled back down at her plate while taking a large bite. Too large, given how spicy tonight's meal happened to be. Her eyes began to water and she grabbed for the class of watering, quickly downing several large gulps. Once the crisis was averted she looked back up at the spirit, who was still staring at her with no discernible expression. He hadn't touched his food. Now that Katara thought about it, she didn't even know if demons ate, or if they did, if they ate the kind of food mortals ate.
She decided to find out.
"What's wrong? Don't you like spicy dumplings?"
He started at the unexpected question. He then looked down at his food and sniffed.
"It's been a while," he said in a low voice, pushing his plate away. "A while since I've had food… like this."
Katara decided to press her luck. "Food like what? This spicy? With rice? Cooked?"
The spirit spirit-demon blinked at her again before answering. "Yes."
Katara looked back at her own plate. She took a few more bites of rice before putting down her chopsticks and standing up from her chair.
"I think I'm ready to retire for the night," she began, but before she could say good night and take her leave the spirit had stood up as well, this time taking care not to knock over his chair.
"I'll walk you to your door." It wasn't an offer or a request or even a command, but simply a statement. The girl nodded stiffly, once again having to concentrate to keep her breathing even.
They walked to the command tower, Katara trying to keep her distance without making it too obvious that she was trying to keep her distance. Once they got to the stairs she fell back behind, since it wasn't wide enough to accommodate them both side by side, not with spirit-demon's size. He glanced back at her every now and again, lit by the dim glow of the fire he held in one his large paw like hand. The last time she went up these stairs with him he had been behind her, all but pushing her as they climbed.
At last they reached her room. Katara quickly said her goodnights, avoiding looking at the spirit-demon directly as the fire's glow traced eerie patterns on his already eerie face. She quickly opened the door to escape to her room.
"Wait," the spirit stopped her. One hand on the inside handle, half of her body shielded by the door, Katara turned and looked up at him. Blood hammered in her ears.
From seemingly nowhere he produced a bouquet in the hand not holding the fire. "Fresh flowers. For your room."
Katara stared dumbly at the flowers in his hand, and then looked up at his face. It was hard to tell in the light, but she could have sworn his cheeks looked like they had flushed purple.
She took the offered flowers and stared at them. After a long pause she blinked and shook away her shocked daze before breathing a thank you, but when she looked up the spirit had vanished.
o
The next night at dinner Katara felt strangely at ease, even with the hulking presence of the spirit. Something in the way he had looked as he handed her the flowers the night before made her think that he might be almost as afraid of her as she was of him, though it was hard to imagine why he would be. He was holding her prisoner, he was easily twice her size, he was a spirit demon with who knows what horrifying demon spirit powers. But for whatever reason he apparently felt the need to win her over, and this knowledge left her feeling relatively safe for the time being.
"So," she began between bites "I realized that I don't know what I should call you."
The spirit looked up from his plate where he had speared a piece of meat with one of his claws and grunted in confusion.
Katara pressed on. "What name would you like me to call you by?"
The spirit's brow knitted in consternation and he moved a hand his scratch his head before remember that meat was impaled on one of his digits. With a quick a motion he shook it back onto the plate and then rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.
The waterbender bit the insides of her cheek. She had thought, incorrectly apparently, that this would be the easiest way to start a conversation
"Do you have a name?" she asked
The spirit dropped his hands to his lap. "Not really… not anymore," he muttered to his hands. He looked defeated, the moonlight glinting silvery off of his white horns
"Oh," she said softly, taking in his defeated posture. "Well, I've been just calling you the Spirit when talking to your uncle. Is that okay?"
The demon looked up slightly and nodded.
"Alright then," she said, with a reassuring smile. "Spirit."
The Spirit did his best to return the smile, and Katara to her credit only found the fangy grimace a little frightening.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Katara was out on the deck bending one afternoon a couple of days later. She had been displaying one of the newer Southern techniques for Iroh before he had taken his leave, explaining cryptically that he needed to go check on something.
With no one around to impress, she sat back and entertained herself by playing with a thin stream of water, writing words and drawing pictures in the air. A circle, a heart, a five point star. An arrow and Sokka's boomerang. She wrote the characters for her name, Kah-Tar-Rah. Then Sokka's and then Aang's, carefully forming every stroke before it disappeared as the water moved to form the next.
She wiped at the tears forming in her eyes, letting the water drop in a puddle. She sniffed and looked behind her where she sat against the ships railing, towards the spot far in the distance where she last saw Sokka. It was only a couple of weeks ago, but it felt like so much longer. Where were they? Has Aang found an earthbending teacher? Was he still practicing his waterbending?
Would she ever see them again?
Katara turned her attention back to the water, picking it up again. She had never been very good at the more artistic side of bending, having been far more keen on fighting and other more practical techniques, but she tried now to form a miniature Appa out of the globe of water she held in the air. After some effort she succeeded in producing something with six-ish legs and a tail that looked vaguely bison-like and, satisfied with her creation, she set about making it fly about. Sticking her tongue out in concentration, she tried for a loop de loop and managed to do it without letting the water lose its form on the first try.
She laughed out loud at her success and looked around to see if Iroh had come back and saw, or maybe even that stuffy rabbit-squirrel. What she saw instead was the Spirit, watching quietly at some distance. Katara quickly streamed the water back into her pouch; Iroh had given her permission to bend, but she didn't know how the Spirit felt about her practicing a martial art when she was technically a prisoner.
The Spirit looked down at his feet and shuffled them as if he was the one who had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "You don't have to stop," was all he said before quickly disappearing below deck.
Katara sat in silence for a moment, feeling a breeze signaling the eminent arrival of the mild fall characteristic of the part of the Earth Kingdom, before picking up her water again.
o
Dinner that night was mostly a silent affair, as it usually was. By this time the Spirit was actually eating the meal before him, partly with his chopsticks and partly with his fingers. If Katara was honest with herself it was actually kind of endearing, though she would never say so aloud. She was sure if the Spirit would take as much offense to being implied to be 'cute' as Lieutenant Jee did.
After having looked at Katara through most of dinner as if trying to decide whether or not to say something, the Spirit spoke.
"Earlier today, when you were bending, what was it you were trying to make?"
The girl blushed. "Oh, that. It was, well… it was supposed to be a flying bison. I'm not very good at that kind of thing…"
"No," he rushed. "No, it… it looked like a bison. I thought it was probably a bison, I just wasn't sure."
Another wave of silence washed over them. Katara thought she heard a frog croak in the distance, followed by the hoot of some type of owl.
The Spirit cleared his throat. "Would you like to see something? Some firebending, I mean?"
Katara raised her eyebrows at the offer. Even though she had witnessed him manipulate flame, it had never occurred to her that this technically made him a firebender. Such descriptors didn't seem to apply to spirits or demons the way they did to humans.
Just a little hesitantly, she nodded. "Yes, I would."
The Spirit scooted his chair back and turned a little away from the table but remained sitting. He glanced at Katara out of the corner of his eye, seeming a little nervous, before concentrating on the large blue hands he held out before him, tilted slightly towards each other. A tiny flame appeared floating between them and slowly it grew upwards, a thin tendril of fire.
Katara leaned forward and, almost like she was seeing time sped up, she watched the birth of a flower bud that slowly grew and bloomed to reveal a rose like those that grew in the observation deck. She was entranced by the dancing fire petals, ever moving and changing but always keeping to the form of a flower. A quickly stolen glance at the Spirit revealed that he was in deep concentration, the strain of the effort it took to coax the flames into cooperation obvious on his face.
The waterbender looked back to the flower and watched as it finished blooming until one by one flaming petals began to detach themselves and die out as the fell away. Eventually only the center of the rose was left. Starting at the bottom the stem began to disappear, travelling up into the center until again all that was left was a tiny little flame. This the Spirit gently closed his large hands around, snuffing it out.
Katara grinned and clapped her hands while the Spirit breathed heavily with the exertion such intricate bending had taken. She had never seen firebending like that, and with the volatile nature of the element she hadn't known that it was even possible to coax such fine shapes from it.
"How did you learn how to do that?" she asked, forgetting for a moment who, or, what she was talking to. It didn't matter, though, because he didn't seem to think it strange or forward for a human to be asking for a spirit to reveal his secrets.
"Observation, practice," he answered, seeming pleased with her reaction to his display. "My mother always liked the more artistic side of firebending, and I've had little else to do over the past few years."
His mention of his mother surprised her. Though Katara knew the Spirit had an uncle, or at least someone who claimed to be his uncle, she had for some reason never thought that he might have parents as well. She studied him in the moonlight; she studied the lines of his face and the gold of his eyes, momentarily lost in the mystery.
"Well," she said at last with a smile, "I bet she's very impressed – that was amazing."
To her dismay the Spirit's face fell. "I haven't seen my mother in a very long time, and I don't think I ever will again," he said quietly.
The girl wanted to reach out touch him. "I'm so sorry."
The Spirit shook his head. "It's okay. She disappeared so long ago; it was in another life time."
Another long moment passed. Barely thinking about what she was doing, Katara stood up and moved her chair so she was sitting beside him.
"Do you think you could show me something else?" she asked, looking up into face.
The Spirit smiled softly, and this time Katara didn't find it frightening at all.
o
The Spirit began to show himself more often during the day after that.
One morning after breakfast Iroh offered to teach Katara how to play Pai Sho. She agreed and began to follow his candle upstairs where he had left his board and tiles the last time he tried to convince his nephew to play.
"He is actually a very good player when he puts his mind to it," Iroh claimed as they left the hallway. "He can just be so impatient sometimes, but he is learning."
An image of the Spirit hunched over a Pai Sho bored, a tile between his massive fingers, deep in thought over his next move flashed through Katara's mind and she bit back a laugh.
Iroh paused when he got to the next level. "Now let me think," he said much too loudly, his voice bouncing off of the metal walls and ceiling. "In which room did I leave it?"
A door swung open. "Uncle! What did I say about bothering me when I'm…?" He trailed off when he saw Katara
"Oh, hello, Nephew. I did not know you were up here," Iroh lied smoothly. "I was going to teach Master Katara here how to play the fine game of Pai Sho. But, oh dear, it seems I have just remembered something very important I must attend to. I am so sorry Katara." The girl raised her eyebrow at this.
"But here is an idea!" the invisible uncle went on, "Nephew, why don't you play with her? I am sure she would not mind the substitution, would you, my dear?"
Katara smiled in amusement and shook her head. "No, I wouldn't mind."
"Then it is settled. I have also just remembered that my Pai Sho board and tiles are actually in my room, silly me. In my old age my memory must be going. You remember where I keep them, do you not Nephew?"
The Spirit nodded.
"Splendid!" Iroh said, moving towards the stairs. Katara stepped aside and watched the candle float by. "I will see you later this evening – enjoy your game."
When he had gone Katara looked at the Spirit with a smile and shrugged, before starting down the stairs. The Spirit, with a huff, shut the door to the room he was in and followed. Once in Iroh's room he looked around for the Pai Sho board, grumbling the entire time about something that had to do with meddling old men, before locating it in a trunk packed neatly at the top. Katara couldn't repress a giggle at how out of the place the hulking presence of the Spirit looked in an old man's room, clutching a bag of game tiles.
"I was just remembering a funny joke I heard once," she lied when the he looked at her.
They went out onto the deck to play, finding a card table and two chairs waiting for them. Though the Spirit stumbled over his words and frequently backtracked, having forgot to mention an exception to a rule or a special kind of jump, it didn't take long for the girl to understand the game, and soon they were playing.
Katara was staring intently at the board, chin resting on her fist, carefully considering her next move, when the Spirit abruptly spoke.
"Your hair looks pretty today," he said quickly.
Taken aback, Katara completely lost her concentration. She felt at the back of her head and ran her hand down the simple braid she wore. "Really?" she said, scrunching her nose, holding the tail of her braid over her shoulder. "This is how I always wear my hair.
The Spirit flushed purple. "Well, it always does, I mean. Looks pretty. Your hair, that is." Katara smiled a little, tilting her head and raising and eyebrow; the Spirit rushed on. "Not that the rest of you doesn't – it does! All of you is pretty all of the time!"
"Thank you," Katara quickly interrupted before the poor thing could continue and embarrass himself further. "I really appreciate the complement." She smiled brightly at him before going back to contemplating the board.
The Spirit relaxed slightly, relieved. "You're welcome."
o
Katara sat outside on the deck, enjoying the cool weather. She had been trying to read Tales of the Spirit World, but she had long past forgotten it and was instead absently playing with her water as she took in the scenery.
It was strange; though she could see that up out of what was once an inlet the leaves on the deciduous trees were beginning to yellow, everything around the ship was as green as ever. The wisteria lilies in the galley continued to bloom, though it was far past their season, and the birds that made their nests near or on the ship didn't leave with all the other birds. Katara could only assume that it was somehow related to the ship's magic, the same magic that made Iroh invisible and kept her fed and clothed. She sometimes felt an eerie, untouched stillness on afternoons like this when she was usually left to her own devices until her nightly dinner with the Spirit.
The waterbender sighed, a familiar ache pricking at her chest. "I miss you guys," she said aloud.
Struck with an idea she got out of her chair and sat cross legged on the ground, streaming more water from a nearby pitcher. She froze the water into an oblong lump in front her and set to work, unfreezing then moving then refreezing parts, trying to get the ice to look like what she had in her mind.
It wasn't working, at least not as well as she wanted it to.
Frustrated, Katara turned the entire thing into snow and crushed it with her bare hand. It shouldn't be this difficult!
She heard someone behind her and twisted around to see who it was. It was the Spirit, shyly stepping forward.
"You should try making something you can see," he suggested.
Katara cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"
Without saying a word the Spirit walked away and disappeared into the galley, returning a few minutes later holding a singly wisteria lily blossom. He strode over and sat across from her, managing to get his large legs into a cross legged position after some effort. Even sitting he loomed over her, so the Spirit stooped over as he offered her the flower.
"Try sculpting this," he said in his soft, deep rasp. "It's easier if you can see it. It takes me a lot of practice, a lot of time just looking at something, before I get it right."
Katara took the flower from his hand before looking up into his gold eyes. "I guess that makes sense," she said, and looked back down and started observing the flower from different angles. "Do you think you can hold it for me while I try?"
The Spirit nodded and she handed the flower back to him. After some time and three proclamations that she was giving up Katara finally ended up with and almost perfect duplicate of the flower in ice. The waterbender crowed in victory before challenging the Spirit to make one as good. He accepted the challenge and created one out of fire with Katara admitted was very good, but she insisted that her ice flower was closer to the original. The Spirit protested, saying that it isn't fair to compare the two because they were working with different materials, and it's more difficult with fire because it's a living element, to which Katara countered that water was just as alive as fire and that he was just making up excuses. This devolved into a game of bending HORSE, each challenging the other in turn to duplicate a trick using the opposing element.
This lasted until nightfall when they grudgingly called it a tie and abandoned their game for dinner.
o
"Katara," the Spirit said the next day towards the end of the evening. "A messenger hawk came with this a few days ago." He had been oddly preoccupied all night and now looked strangely guilty as he handed her a scroll.
Breathlessly Katara unrolled it, revealing a letter in her brother's familiar chicken scratch. She almost cried at the sight, unable to get past "Dear Katara" before the ink began to blur as her eyes welled up.
The next thing the Spirit knew Katara had flown out of her seat and was hugging him. "Thank you," she said, clutching the letter to her chest as she pulled away.
The Spirit shook his head. "No," he said, unable to look her in the eye. "I should have given it to you as soon as it came. I'm sorry."
Katara bit her lip and looked at him for a moment. She then set the scroll down on the table and took one of his blue hands in both of her brown ones, it dwarfing them. "Even still, thank you," she said softly, tilting her head to meet his eyes.
Gently, the Spirit brought his other hand up and cupped her two tiny ones in his. He was in awe.
o
The next morning after she had finished breakfast Katara was surprised with a knock on her door, one that was hurried and excited, very different from the soft little raps characteristic of Iroh.
She opened the door and was even more surprised to see the large blue figure of the Spirit standing in her doorway, one arm held behind his back.
"Would you like to write back to your brother?" he said without prompting.
It took Katara a moment to recover enough from the improbability of his appearance to process and respond to his statement.
"Yes, of course, I'd love to write back to him," she said, dazed, "But, even if the messenger hawk that brought the letter is still here, or if there was another one sitting around, I'd have no idea where to send it. I don't know where they are now, or for how long or where they'll be going."
Katara was even further surprised to see the Spirit smile widely, fangs gleaming.
"I have something for you." He took his arm from behind his back and held out his hand. Katara took a step forward to get a closer look; lying in his cupped hand was a ball of fluff about the size of her fist. She looked up at the Spirit, one eyebrow raised, and he nodded at her in her encouragement. Skeptically, Katara took one finger and poked gently at the fluff ball; it was warm and breathing, and the fluff was actually feathers. Curiosity roused, she stroked the feathers with her fingers. Awoken from its slumber, the creature uncurled itself, opening and stretching its wings and yawning big with its little beak before curling back up and going back to sleep.
Katara looked back up at the Spirit. "What is it?" she asked in a half-whisper, not wanting to disturb it again.
"A catowl," the Spirit also whispered. "She's from a litter that was found below the ship. My uncle says they're touched by the spirit world and if they're loyal to you they'll take a letter to anyone anywhere, even if you don't know where the person is."
Katara's face lit with understanding and she gently scooped the animal out of his hand, holding it to her chest with both hands. The little thing didn't even open its eyes, but just curled right back up with a soft coo.
The Spirit went on. "She's still a little too young to make any deliveries, but in about a month she should be old enough."
The girl pursed her lips. A month? She'd have to watch herself or then her letter would be too heavy the catowl to carry.
o
Katara needn't have worried, because the catowl grew rapidly, and by the end of that month she had grown three times her original size.
Over that time Katara continued to have dinner every night with the Spirit. Sometimes in the day they played Pai Sho, and he would even join her and Iroh for tea every so often. She continued to practice making tiny ice sculptures, graduating to more complicated flowers and then to animals like mocking frogs and rabbit-squirrels. She even made a duplicate of the catowl, which she hd named Kala. It was so realistic that Kala puffed out her feathers and hissed in alarm when she first saw it.
The waterbender almost began to feel at home on the ship, but as kind as Iroh was and as different from her original impression of him the Spirit turned out to be, she couldn't forget that she was a prisoner here, even if all that held her was her word and knowledge of the consequences that often came from breaking one's word to spirits.
At long last a month passed, and the catowl was old enough to deliver Katara's letter.
"This is for Sokka and Aang," she said, tying the scroll to one of Kala's talons. "You can give it to either one of them." It was nearly winter now and Katara felt the nip of cold through her long sleeves as evening fell and the first stars began to appear.
"You'll be able to find them, won't you?" she asked the catowl worriedly. "I've told you all about them. Sokka looks a lot like me, with brown skin and blue eyes, and Aang is bald with a blue arrow on his head, and they travel with this big white bison named Appa…"
Kala ruffled her feathers and hooted, as if to say don't worry, I can find them. Katara took a bit of cloth from her pocket and unwrapped a strip of meat, which she fed to the catowl.
"Alright, Kala, off you go then. Be safe."
Kala ate the strip in a single gulp before taking off, quickly disappearing in the fading light.
o
A/N: I have this painting that sort of accompanies the story that I was hoping to have done by the time I posted this chapter, but my cat stepped on my computer and I lost a bunch of work on it and I haven't felt like working on it since then. Hopefully by the next chapter I'll have finished it.
I hope you enjoyed it!