Author's Note: Longer than the first, as I previously stated. This is about how Katara got her mother's necklace. It illustrates a little insight into the relationship that she and her mother had. And, just for good measure, I'll go ahead and restate what I said in the first installment: This is an idea. Every single update will be based on an idea. I repeat: JUST AN IDEA. NOT WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

Disclaimer: I don't own Katara, or anything about Avatar: The Last Airbender.

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2: Her Mother's Necklace (Katara, age 6)

Katara squirmed uncomfortably. Sitting still during family meetings was so hard! Gran-Gran was droning on about some sort of "tribal duty" and kept using terms like "battle" and "bloodshed." Katara didn't think those were very nice words anyway, and she really didn't like hearing them repeated over and over and over...

"Katara," Katara's mom whispered, "your Gran-Gran's talking. Try to keep still."

Katara nodded. She was trying to please her mother -honest- but she couldn't control her attention span. She was six, after all, and wasn't as mature (or as interested in this horrid topic) as her big brother, Sokka. The seven-year-old in question had his eyes glued to his grandmother, absorbing every word she was saying.

Dumb boys, Katara thought. Who actually wants to listen to this blood-talk?

Katara must have squirmed some more, because her mother grabbed her hand and led her out of the extra-large tent. I'm in trouble. I know I'm in trouble, the little girl thought over and over as she tried to keep up with her mother's long, determined strides.

"Come in here, baby," Katara's mother said gently, leading her into a smaller tent nearby.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Katara pleaded. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it anymore!"

"Shush, hush, it's okay! Baby, it's okay. I'm not angry with you."

"You're... you're not?"

"No! No, I understand. I hated sitting through my grandmother's talks when I was a little girl, too."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a big girl," Katara protested, allowing the hurt expression on to face to be replaced with a slightly annoyed look. Her gaze drifted to the necklace around her mother's neck, and she had to keep the glistening admiration that she felt for the object away from her expression.

"I know, I know. Why don't you just sit down here and let me braid your hair?"

Katara reluctantly nodded, still unsure of whether or not she was in trouble. "Okay."

The six-year-old plopped down on the floor. Her mother grabbed a comb from nowhere and starting taking the knots out of Katara's hair, humming quietly.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Gran-Gran using mean words?"

Katara's mother stopped humming and considered what she should say next. "First," she decided, "You need to tell me if I can trust you not to get upset."

"I won't cry, Mama. Promise," the six-year-old assured her mother.

The woman's face suddenly looked older, much more aged than it should have. War did that to people. "Okay, if you're sure," she said. "Gran-Gran's telling everyone in the tribe about the concept of war. Do you know what war is?"

Katara didn't know what war was exactly. She knew it involved people leaving their families like when her dad traveled to the Earth Kingdom, blood like when her brother cut himself, years like it took for her to learn that she was a waterbender... but she didn't really know. "Not really."

"War is... complicated," Katara's mother decided. "It's very dangerous and horrible and you better hope you never have to deal with it. Gran-Gran is lecturing the tribe on certain things pertaining to the war... talking about how we can do our part."

"Why is Gran-Gran doing it? Why can't dad?"

"Your father isn't nearly as old as my mother," the older woman chuckled. "Gran-Gran has a lot more experience with things like this."

"Why do we even have to do anything?" Katara demanded, blowing on a stray hair. "It's not our place, is it, Mom?"

Katara's mother knew that when her daughter called her "Mom" instead of "Momma" or "Mommy," she was serious. It was a sign of maturity in her daughter; sometimes she loved seeing it... and sometimes she didn't. "We all need to help out," she said, unsure of how to explain the complexities of war to her six-year-old. "You'll understand better when you're older."

Katara crossed her arms in a defiant gesture. "I want to understand now."

"I know, I know." Katara's mother was already halfway through with her daughter's braid. Her hands were swift, adept, skilled. How was she supposed to explain that it was their place, it was everyone's place, to contribute to the war effort? How was her six-year-old supposed to comprehend such complex concepts? Why did the children even have to know about the war? Such early corruption...

Katara sat patiently as her mother worked on her hair. It was strange, how she could sit still easily when her mother was braiding her hair but couldn't when a big, important family meeting was going on. Then again, her grandmother was talking about war- of all possible topics! How come she had to know? She was too young to wander the ice fields by herself, or even with a friend, but she wasn't too young to listen to her own grandmother speak of the horrors and burdens of war? What kind of reasoning was that?

"War happens when some big people don't get along with each other," she murmured, continuing the topic. "The world... generally lives in harmony. When that harmony is interrupted, say, by a nation or two, we try to bring back the peace. Do you understand that?"

Katara shook her head. "How could something like war bring peace?"

"Well... we try to make them understand why we need the peace. If they do not see that, or if they want to blindly continue with angry tirades, then we try to..." The words put them in their place pounded in the older woman's mind, but that sounded cruel, and she wanted to shield her young daughter as much as possible. She should be informed, though... "We try to wipe away their mistakes and force them back into the harmony. It takes lives, but those lives are well spent on the protection of more lives and the preservation of cultures." She considered mentioning something about the Avatar, but her daughter would learn all about that in due time. Besides, she didn't want to get her baby's hopes up when the possibility of the Avatar's coming to save them was almost nonexistent.

The two sat in silence for a while. After a bit of time, though, Katara's mother began to talk again. "Almost... finished." The older woman tossed her daughter's braid over the little girl's shoulder.

"Thanks, Mom," Katara said, still thinking.

The six-year-old began her return walk to the tent where her grandmother was speaking, but her mother called her back. "Hey, Katara? Don't go just yet."

She hurried back to her mother, who was taking off that beautiful necklace that Katara admired so. "I... want you to have this. A little something to remind you of me, to keep me in your thoughts."

Katara reached up and took it. Her mother tried to help her fasten it around her neck, but Katara swatted her hand away. "I can do it."

The woman smiled. "I know." Katara put the necklace on with only a little difficulty, and then, with a quick, thankful look to her mother, she sprinted to the nearest body of water to gaze at her reflection.

Her mother watched her go, proud and, although she hated it, a bit sorrowful at the same time. She had been planning on giving her daughter that necklace later, when she was older- it was only the prospect of war, the possibility of their lifespans being shorter than expected, that drove her to give away her most precious possession so early. Indeed, it was her most precious possession. Material-wise, anyway.

She wanted to be able to see her daughter wear that necklace, wanted to see the gleam in her eyes as she was presented with it, wanted to know that her daughter would be able to have something to remind her of the woman who gave it to her in case something actually did happen. It filled her heart with joy, watching her daughter be so proud of an item with such sentimental value. She hoped that she'd be around to watch her daughter blossom into the young woman that she would on day be, but, with such troubled times in their midst, she wasn't so sure she'd have the chance.

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