Zutara Month looks almost over, and wow, thanks a LOT for all of these fabulous reviews, especially Different Child and Kimberly T. Arc Two for this particular AU will be short, thanks to my superb planning, but I have an idea of making this a separate fic to expand it after Zuatara Month.

27. Similarity

Katara swam underwater for a good part of the day, thanks to her water-bubble technique, and finally decided to get onto land before it got dark. She had three gold coins in a leather pouch on her belt that she suspected was Zuko's doing, but she knew a decent inn would cost perhaps five silver, a hot meal ten coppers. Gold coins would cause her trouble, and she didn't need that. Katara sighed as she climbed carefully from the shore, Waterbended herself dry from behind a bush, and strode to the nearest town, where she saw lanterns glowing. She felt free, walking in the air and moonlight and wind, hair loose around her face.

The woman, an elderly crone with white hair, gave her a small room key, then clucked at her appearance. "My dear girl, why are you traveling alone? And in those clothes?"

Katara remembered that she was still wearing Zuko's robe set—it was a man's, and even though it was fine silk, they were loose around her body and looked as if they were about to fall off; the robe had to be wrapped three times around her slender, undernourished form. She did not have her topknot on (since the hairpiece had the school's emblem on it), and his shoes were much too big for her, but she wore them because, well, they were sturdy.

"I, I am visiting my aunt in the Earth Kingdom colonies," she quicky lied. "She has, has a dreadful fever, and I must see her. These are my brother's clothes; my own were...stolen."

The woman gave her a once-over, and Katara gulped. She narrowed her eyes. "Girl, look at me."

Katara did. Were there wanted posters of her somewhere? Should she risk Waterbending this woman and run? There were some tall vases filled with fire lilies and water nearby...

The woman suddenly smiled brightly, with slightly yellowed teeth, her grayish eyes shining in the dim candlelight. "Why don't you settle in, and I'll prepare a meal for you?"

Katara's eyes darted to the vases. "Uh, I thank you kindly, ma'am, but I, uh, already ate before I came here."

Her stomach growled, remembering the uneaten taro roll and egg custard tart. She cursed inwardly.

The old woman kept smiling. "Nonsense, it would be no trouble. Call me Hama."

Katara didn't really have any things to speak of, but she decided to rest a bit when she heard the sound of pots and pands clanging in what she assumed to be the kitchen or dining hall. She bounced on the cushy bed slightly. It was much more comfortable than her rock-hard mattress of that school, and the quilt was soft and puffy, along with the pillows. The inn was quiet and cozy; there seemed to be no guests here tonight. That felt odd, to be alone by herself. The window showed a silver moon glowing in the distance. Katara lay down quietly on the bed and soon fell asleep. The bubble had tired her out.

She awoke and sniffed the air, which smelled vaguely familiar. It brought to mind...her mother.

"Katara, sweet one, can you stir this for me, and maybe add a sprinkle of dried seaweed to it?"

"Yes, Mommy! When will it be ready?"

Her mother laughed. "Soon, Katara, soon. I'm going to call for your brother and father; they're off practicing their warrior skills. Don't let it burn, or else it wouldn't taste very nice."

"Okay, Mommy. I promise it'll be the best sea prune stew ever!"

She wiped the tears from her eyes. Katara remembered that day. Sokka had come riding in on her dad's shoulders, waving his boomerang, which had hit Dad on the head accidentally (luckily, not on the pointed end). Dad had swore ("Hakoda!"), and Gran Gran had quickly treated it with an herbal poultice, while Sokka and Katara laughed while their mother gently chided Sokka and began to dish out the sea prune stew. They had eventually sat down, and her mother had hugged her, saying, "This is the best sea prune stew ever, Katara." She had been so happy, and Sokka had nodded eagerly with her mother's statement while trying to talk about his boomerang adventures at the same time.

Katara walked out into the hall, following the smell, and trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

Hama was just setting down a black, covered pot with an array of other dishes when Katara was approaching.

"Just in time, dear." she said with another smile. "Why don't you sit down?"

Katara sat, pulling back a wooden chair, as Hama put down some more dishes. She uncovered the pot, and Katara gasped.

"No!" she drank in the sight, hardly believing the sight. Perhaps she had swum farther than she'd realized. "Stewed sea prunes?"

"I thought so." The innkeeper took a silver ladle and began to spoon it into a bowl. "No Fire Nation person knows that dish. You're from the Water Tribe."

Katara's heart jolted, and her first instinct was to shake her head and deny No, I'm not, no. She stared down at the food—five-flavor soup, sea crab, seaweed bread, squid, various fish dishes—then at Hama's gray eyes...no, blue. As she said, no Fire Nation person knew those dishes, nor how to cook them...

"You're...you're from the Water Tribe?"

"Southern." Hama handed the bowl to her, and Katara numbly took it, nearly dropping it in her state. "Yourself?"

"S-Southern. But how—?"

"How did I come here? I was captured, same as you, I warrant. I was brought to a dingy prison, so dark that when I first escaped, the sun burned my eyes, and I had to travel gradually during the evening, then work my way towards the day to get used to light again. The cages were suspended high, like ones for birds, and they were filthy and unclean and without chamber pots. You can imagine the stench."

Katara felt her stomach turn as she stared down into her stew as Hama placed more food on her plate. "That's horrible."

"They pumped in dry air, then chained us from head to toe if we wanted a drink. We were hardly allowed to bathe ourselves, and of course, that allowed the guards to take liberties with us." Hama's mouth twisted. "We had good Waterbending healers, but we had to die if we got sick or injured. It was just the way. Finally, I was the only one left."

She felt sick as the plate was slid over towards her. "How...how did you escape then?"

Hama suddenly smiled. It was bright, odd, and not fit for the aftermath of one of the most gruesome stories Katara had heard in her life. "I will tell you soon, girl...what is your name? I feel that girl is impolite."

"K-Katara."

"Pretty. It has a lot of water in the meaning of it, am I right?"

"Yes, it does." Katara finished the last drop of her five-flavor soup and began to start on the stewed sea prunes. It wasn't quite the same, but she nearly cried again.

"It's a good Waterbending name. Would you like more soup, Katara? The ingredients are mostly Fire Nation; for example, the sea prunes are ocean kumquats, but it is somewhat home-like, is it not?"

"Oh, yes." Katara nodded as her spoon dug into the bowl again.

Hama raised her hand over the large pot as if to take the ladle...then the orange soup flowed gracefully with soft plop into her brown clay bowl.

Katara gasped. "You're a Waterbender! A Southern Waterbender! I thought I was—" She quickly stuffed the seaweed bread in her mouth before she could say anymore.

"Was what, Katara?" Hama asked her kindly.

"I...my mother..." The story pours out of her, about the day of the black snow, how her mother pleaded for her, Katara running back with her father, the smell of burned flesh, the funeral. She's crying, now, something she didn't dare to do in the school into the sea prunes, or sea kumquats.

Hama was now behind her, gently patting her shoulder. "There, there, Katara. Your mother was brave, and you could do nothing. You were so young. The Fire Nation is horrid, to take your mother away from you." Her hands clench into her arm as Katara sobs anew. "They will regret that one day, Katara. They will."

Continued tomorrow in 28. Atonement