Missing Pieces
"Looks like we've got everything," Sokka declared with a satisfied hand on his hip.
Katara and her friends stood in the marketplace of Shi Chang, the last decent-sized town before they would travel the final stretch to the Black Cliffs, the rendezvous point for the invasion. In just a few days, they would shed their red-and-gold Fire Nation disguises. But there was one problem—their original clothing had been damaged in the battle under Ba Sing Se or, in Sokka's case, lost completely.
Which meant they had to either purchase new outfits or gather materials to put them together.
Aang shook his head at Sokka. "Not everything," he said, holding up a bundle of golden cotton silk. "Every store has something in yellow, but I still can't find any cloth that's orange or saffron. It's like that color doesn't even exist."
"Did you say 'orange?'" someone drawled.
All heads turned toward the speaker. A stocky man in a maroon tunic with a yellow sash around his waist was watching them with a curious eye.
"Yes," Katara replied. "We're looking for orange cloth. Do you know where we might find some?"
The man arched a bushy black eyebrow. "You kids look like Fire Nation, but you must be from the colonies," he said. "No one wears orange here. That's the color of the Air Nation. Getting caught in orange is gonna land you in a whole barrel of trouble."
Then the man peered at each of them in turn. "Why are you looking for orange cloth, anyway?" he said with narrowed eyes.
"Well, uh," Aang stammered.
"It's too bad we couldn't find any," Katara said a little too loudly as she racked her brain for a convincing excuse. "You were really looking forward to dressing up for…for…"
"For the play!" Sokka interjected. "For the play at school!" He nudged Aang with his elbow. "Right, A—Kuzon?"
"Yeah!" Aang said, his face lighting up. "I can't wait to dress like an Air Nomad again." He glanced at the man, whose glare only deepened. "For the play, I mean."
Next to Katara, Toph crossed her arms and muttered "amateurs" under her breath.
The man's golden eyes bored into Aang. Could he somehow see Aang's arrow beneath his headband? Then his gaze darted to the blue-and-white bundles that she and Sokka carried, and to the green package under Toph's arm.
"I know who you people are," the man growled.
We've been caught, Katara thought in a panic. The invasion is going to fail before it even begins.
"You're performers!" he bellowed, slapping his thigh. His guffaw was so loud and sudden that several passersby stopped to stare.
Sokka was the first one to recover from his shock. "Th-That's right! We're performers!"
"Yer part of that acting troupe that's in town, aren't you?" The man pointed a beefy finger at Sokka and Katara. "You two must be playing Water Tribe." His finger swiveled to Toph. "You're an Earth Kingdom girl. And you…" He jabbed his finger at Aang. "You're the unlucky fella playing Air Nation scum."
"Unlucky…right…" Aang said with a weak laugh.
The man's eyes lit up as a thought struck him. "You must be the folks working on the play that everyone's talking about. Something about a boy and a hunk of ice. Or was it a girl?" He scratched his beard in puzzlement.
"Anyway, I hear it's still a work in progress," he continued. He crouched forward with his hands on his knees. "You know, I'm a bit of a theater buff myself," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Care to share a line or two with a fan?"
Katara bit her lip and exchanged a worried glance with Aang. How were they going to get out of this one?
"Like you said, it's a work in progress," Toph said with casual confidence. "Our manager will kill us if we spill the beans." She shrugged. "Sorry."
The man straightened back up, disappointed at missing out on inside information. "Oh well. It was worth a shot." He gave Aang a hearty slap on the back. "There's a guy selling some Air Nation knick-knacks a few stalls down that way," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Maybe you can find something you can use for props."
When the man finally left, his topknot bobbing into the sea of marketgoers, everyone in the group let out a sigh of relief.
"That was a close one," Sokka said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"It wouldn't have been so close if you all played it cool," Toph huffed. "You'd think that after traveling in disguise for so long, you people would be better at faking it."
Katara bristled at Toph's words. "Well, we haven't had years of practice fooling people, unlike the Blind Bandit."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Toph said sharply.
"You know what, all this shopping is making me hungry," Sokka announced as he hooked his arm through Toph's. "I could really use some food right now. We passed a stand selling fire gummies back that way. Come on Toph, let's check it out."
As her brother dragged a grumbling Toph away with him, Katara let out another sigh. Of all the ways she had expected this excursion to go, tense was not one of them.
"Maybe we should take a look at the stand with the Air Nomad relics," Aang suggested. He tilted his head in the direction that the burly man had indicated earlier, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Maybe we'll find what we're looking for there."
"Right," she agreed, tucking her package of blue-and-white clothing under her arm. They set off down a busy path between two rows of stalls with merchants peddling vegetables, ceramic dishes, and various odds and ends.
Katara had her doubts, though. With the way the Fire Nation man had reacted, Aang's quest for orange cloth seemed like one that was doomed to fail. Aang would have to make do with robes of yellow without the orange. And he would wear them with a laugh and a grin, like it was no big deal.
But her heart ached for her friend. Because she knew that beneath his easygoing smile, not being able to don all of his people's colors was going to make him feel incomplete—like a piece of himself was missing.
"Katara, look!"
Aang was pointing eagerly to a stall with a table covered with bells, handheld drums, necklaces, and other items that Katara had never seen before. This must be the shop with the Air Nomad relics that the "theater buff" had mentioned.
But the relics were not what had caught Aang's eye.
"D'you see what's under all of those things?" he whispered to her.
Spread out beneath the Air Nomad artifacts was a large, rectangular cloth of brilliant saffron.
"We just have to buy the cloth from the shopkeeper," Katara whispered back, "and then we can get out of here."
They sauntered up to the stall, where a thin man with a thin mustache and a topknot perched atop his shaved head stood behind the table.
"Welcome, young sir, young miss," the merchant said. He waved a hand over his wares in an expansive gesture. "These artifacts were acquired from Air Nation fortresses in the days of Fire Lord Sozin. Please, take your time to peruse the selection before you. Let me know if you see anything that you would like to add to your collection."
"Actually, we'd like to buy the orange cloth on the table," Aang said, oddly uninterested in the relics of his culture laid out before him. "How much do you want for it?"
The merchant scowled. "The tablecloth for my display is not for sale," he snapped.
Aang held up a small, embroidered bag that sagged with the weight of the coins inside. "I'll give you everything I have in this purse for your tablecloth."
But the man's face darkened like a thundercloud. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to obtain fabric in this color?" he hissed. "I paid a small fortune to bribe a clothier to dye it orange, which is more than what you can afford. Besides, it's essential to my marketing strategy. If I'm going to peddle Air Nation artifacts, I have to look legitimate."
Aang frowned. "But these aren't Air Nomad relics," he said. He picked up a small brass bell engraved with intricate patterns and quickly swung it back and forth. The sound rang dull and tinny. "They're just cheap knockoffs."
The merchant's face turned red and puffy, and he looked like he was about to explode. "I am a certified dealer of Air Nation artifacts," he spluttered. "How dare you accuse me of lying about my merchandise!"
Katara picked up a pair of small cymbals and turned them over in her hand. At first, the engraving in the metal looked impressively elaborate. But upon closer inspection, she saw it was just a jumble of random lines and patterns. The burnished bronze of the cymbals also looked much newer than one hundred years old.
"I don't know," she said, rubbing her thumb over the cheaply carved pattern on the metal. "I'm pretty sure my friend knows what he's talking about."
The thin trails of the merchant's mustache twitched with indignation. "How can you and your friend possibly know anything? You're nothing but brats wasting my time!"
"Well, we're from the colonies, so we've seen things you wouldn't have the faintest clue about!" Katara shot back. She had no idea where she was going with this, but she didn't care. The merchant had tried to trade them fakes and insults. She was going to trade him a piece of her mind.
"You're from the colonies?" the merchant asked, his anger suddenly deflating.
"Yup. We are," Aang confirmed cautiously. He threw Katara a glance that said, Are you sure that mentioning the colonies was a good idea?
"Ah. My apologies for not realizing this sooner," the merchant said with a bow.
Now Katara shot a look at Aang. What's going on?
The merchant's demeanor became oddly courteous. "Your families must have great wealth and status if they can afford to send you to school in our motherland. I apologize for my earlier rudeness." He brought out a box from under the table and swiftly placed its contents before Aang. "These artifacts are genuine. I swear upon my family's honor that they are the real thing."
Katara was prepared to follow Aang's lead in scoffing at the merchant's claim, but Aang fell strangely silent. He lifted a loop of dark ribbon that tied together a cluster of necklaces. With reverent care, he laid the strands of polished wooden beads across his palm.
"These necklaces are real," he said quietly, running a trembling finger over the flat disc of a pendant carved with the symbol for air. "They used to belong to monks and nuns."
"Yes, they are real, just as I said. Yes, they are," the merchant muttered as he rubbed his hands together with a glint in his eye. "Can I interest you in one or more? I'll even give you a discount—just for you."
Aang set the loop of necklaces back down on the table, beads clacking softly. "No. I'm not interested."
Then he turned around and walked away.
Katara hurried after Aang, leaving the merchant gaping after them in confusion.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she fell into step beside him.
"No."
She had to walk quickly, dodging other shoppers in the market, to keep up with him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Aang shook his head. "All I wanna do is get out of this rotten town and back to Appa."
"What about the orange cloth?"
But he just shrugged, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and kept on walking.
Katara circled in front of him and put her hand on his shoulder. He came to a halt. "I know that was painful for you to see," she said.
His eyes were dull and distant, heavy with a grief that no one living could touch. Painful was an understatement.
She stuffed her bundle of clothing under her arm and took his hands. Her thumbs rested on the pointed cuffs of the sleeves that covered his arrows. "But I also know how important your robes are to you."
Aang didn't reply. But he closed his fingers around hers.
Finally, he sighed. "I don't see how we're going to get the cloth from the merchant," he said. "He won't sell it to us."
"Well…we could acquire the cloth the same way the Fire Nation acquired the Air Nomad relics," Katara suggested innocently.
A slow smile spread across his face. "You know, that's not a bad idea."
"The only trouble is, we're still in disguise. We have to do it without blowing our cover."
The smile on Aang's face widened into a grin. "I know just the thing. Here's what we need to do…"
"You better believe my father is going to hear about this!" Katara fumed as she shoved her finger in the merchant's face.
"I—I already said I was sorry!" the merchant stammered, holding up his hands to ward off her fury.
"Well, sorry isn't enough. My father collects rare artifacts from around the world, and I told him I would check out the market in this town. But you tried to scam us, so we're taking our business elsewhere." She whirled on her heel and stalked away from the stall of so-called Air Nomad "artifacts" in a huff.
The merchant followed her with his wiry body bent over, half-begging and half-bowing. "B-B-But perhaps you should contact him first, to see what he says? I'm the only certified dealer of Air Nomad artifacts in this part of the country. I don't think your father would want to miss out on this opportunity."
"I already know what he's going to say. Which is to find a merchant who isn't lying about their goods!"
"I'm sorry I wasn't completely honest with you! A thousand apologies to you and your father, Miss…Miss…"
Katara finally stopped walking and gave the man the haughtiest glare she could muster. "Pippinpaddleopsicopolis. June Pippinpaddleopsicopolis," she said, enunciating each syllable with biting precision. "And you best not forget it."
"Yes, Miss Pippindot—yes, young Miss," the merchant said, practically bowing and scraping before her. "I will make sure not to forget. And your friend's name, if I may?"
"His name is Bonzu," Katara replied with a sniff. She had drawn the merchant three stands away from his own stall. But she needed to put more distance between him and his merchandise—and get closer to the canal—for their plan to succeed.
Out of the corner of her eye, a figure in a school uniform and red headband disappeared behind a stall filled with baskets overflowing with fire lilies.
She turned back to the merchant, who was watching her. Waiting for something.
"And Bonzu's family name…?" he prompted.
Oh, right. Katara gave him a supercilious smirk. "I'll tell you his family name if you can prove that you deserve to know."
But the merchant's brow darkened at her words. Oops, she thought. I might have pushed a little too far with that one.
Katara rushed over to the next stall and grabbed a gleaming pot. "Look here. Authentic Fire Nation steel," she said, rapping her knuckles against the side in a brassy clang. She had to buy some more time so Aang could make his move.
"No fakes here. Only the real thing, right?" she asked the old woman seated next to the stand, who nodded her head in puzzled agreement.
Katara swept her arm over the display of urns and cauldrons of different sizes. "My father would love to own every single one of these artifacts!"
The merchant's mustache curved downward as he frowned. "But those are just cooking pots."
She inwardly cringed. It was getting harder and harder to keep up this charade. "That's right," she said, holding up what she hoped was a confident finger. "But they're Fire Nation cooking pots. From the Fire Nation. You can't find pots like these just anywhere in the Earth Kingdom."
The merchant now peered at her suspiciously. "Where in the Earth Kingdom did you say you were from, again?"
Katara froze. Uh oh, he's starting to catch on to me. Come on, Aang!
"We're…we're from Omashu," she said, blurting out the first Earth Kingdom city that came to mind.
The merchant narrowed his eyes. "I have several contacts in Omashu, and none of them have ever mentioned an important family by the name of Pippin—Poppin—that ridiculous name you gave me!"
"Your contacts must not move in high circles," she said with a sniff.
The merchant smirked. "One of my contacts is the cousin of the governor himself." He slowly advanced on Katara. "And something tells me that you and your friend are not who you say you are."
Katara backed away from the merchant, who was no longer a greedy fool but something far more menacing. She stumbled past a gap between the stalls, and a flash of sunlight on water caught her eye.
The canal!
She was near the canal now, which ran behind the stalls, parallel to the street, in this part of town.
But still no sign of Aang. And even though she had water nearby, she couldn't risk waterbending to defend herself. Not if she wanted to keep their cover intact until the eclipse.
Come on, Aang…
"And if you're lying about who you are," the merchant said, eyeing the blue fabric clutched in her hands, "it makes me wonder what you're hiding."
Katara's heart pounded. She fought the urge to run. But at least running was better than waterbending, because—
BOOM!
The sound came from the canal. A cloud of black smoke billowed into the air. But not just smoke. The force of the explosion kicked a spray of water skyward, which rained down on Katara, the merchant, and everything around them.
Peddlers rose from their chairs. People milled about, muttering in confusion.
Another explosion threw up even more smoke and water. People started to flee the marketplace, although some crowded in between the stalls to see what was going on in the canal.
Katara slipped between two stacks of crates near the canal that hid her from view. She shifted into a half-crouch stance and thrust her arms above her head.
The water that coated the streets and the stalls transformed into steam that filled the air.
The confused murmur around her rose to an alarmed clamor. Shouts of "Where did this fog come from?" and "I can barely see anything!" rang throughout the marketplace.
Katara retrieved her bundle of clothing from where she'd left it on a crate and peered around the corner, looking for any sign of the merchant with the thin mustache. Then she spotted him—his back was turned, and he seemed to be looking at something in the canal.
On silent feet, she skulked down the street and away from the merchant. The thin man's figure blurred into a silhouette as fog obscured the space between them. When his outline disappeared into the mist completely, she turned on her heel and ran.
Katara's heart leaped when she saw Aang waiting for her by the signpost on the edge of town. Beneath his arm was a roll of bright orange cloth and across his face was a triumphant grin.
"Those were some impressive explosions," Katara said as they hurried across the field bordering the town.
"The fireworks I got for cheap were pretty weak, so I spiced things up with a bit of airbending and waterbending," he replied with a modest shrug.
Her eyes flicked to the cloth bundle under his arm. "Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so." He smiled at her. "The fog you bent out of the water was perfect."
Compliments from Aang were not unusual, but this time was different. Perhaps it was the rush from pulling off their crazy stunt, or the thrill of her safety depending on Aang having her back—and her having his back in turn. This time, his words brought a warm glow to her cheeks.
When they arrived at the campsite, Appa lay nearby, leisurely munching on grass. Momo was curled up in a furry ball on the sky bison's head for an afternoon nap. But Sokka and Toph were nowhere to be seen—they were still somewhere in town, probably.
Katara ducked inside her tent to change. She couldn't wait to get out of her Fire Nation disguise and into something more comfortable—and more familiar. The outfit she had cobbled together came from several shops selling bric-a-brac and assorted junk, including Water Tribe clothing that no one seemed to want.
As she pulled the pants over her legs and threaded the tunic sleeves over her arms, she tried not to think too hard about how her outfit must have been…obtained. She would need to shorten the long sleeves for summer weather and take in the chest and waist of the tunic for a better fit. Her finger slowly traced the seam that separated the white trim from the deep blue fabric. The unnamed women who had worn this clothing may be gone, but their garments would provide her with pride as well as protection. And she would honor their memory by fighting to end the war.
When Katara was finished dressing, she went back outside to see how Aang was doing. She spotted him in the middle of the clearing and was about to call his name, but the sight of him froze her voice in her throat.
Aang stood gazing off in the direction of the town. He had taken off his headband. From his hand dangled the loop of Air Nomad necklaces, which he must have snatched from the merchant's stand along with the cloth. But none of these things were what stopped her breath.
It was his robes. He'd only been able to get ahold of simple sheets of fabric, since finding cut and sewn Air Nomad clothing in the Fire Nation was as likely as finding a barrel of drinking water in the Si Wong Desert. So he had folded the panels of cloth and wrapped them around his body—gold around his left arm and saffron over the shoulder and torso, leaving his other arm and shoulder free. The entire ensemble was cinched at the waist with a dark red belt.
With his arms no longer constrained by his Fire Nation uniform, with his back and shoulder bare, his arrows unfurled over his body like ribbons of sky.
Just as Aang had transformed formless sheets of cloth into the dress of his people, his newly fashioned robes restored the piece of himself that had been missing and made him whole.
But not entirely whole. Nothing could change the cruel truth about the wooden necklaces clutched in his hand.
Aang noticed her presence and turned around. He gazed at her with the same awe that must have been written on her own face.
Suddenly self-conscious, Katara smoothed out the front of her tunic. Why was he looking at her like that?
When she glanced down, she saw the reason why. Blue and white covered skin the brown of tundra in springtime snowmelt. Wearing her tribe's colors again not only looked right, but it felt right. And Aang could tell.
But still, his unwavering attention made her blush.
"Hi," she said, touching one of the twin strands of hair she wore over her shoulder with a shy hand.
His face softened into a warm smile. "You look great."
"But this tunic is too big on me," Katara protested, tugging on her sleeve to demonstrate. "I need to tailor it so it won't be so baggy, and my pants need to be adjusted, too, and—"
Aang walked over until he was within arm's reach. "I think you look perfect."
His words were simple and honest and made her heart flutter. She ducked her head. "Thanks."
Then, peering up at him, she said, "You look pretty good, too."
Now it was his turn to act flustered. "Thanks," he said, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck.
"I bet you can't wait to shave your head again," she said, skirting around the tension that had grown up between them.
Moments like this were becoming more and more frequent with Aang. The electric feeling that tightened her chest and spread down to her fingers and toes was far from unpleasant. But whatever they had between them bubbled beneath the surface, just out of sight. And if she looked too closely, it would vanish like the shadow people in the myths of her childhood, leaving her wondering if it was all in her head.
"Yeah," he replied. "But I've gotten so used to having hair now, it might feel a little different when it's gone."
As he ran his hand through his hair, she couldn't help imagining how it might feel right now.
"I miss seeing your arrow," she told him.
But I'm going to miss your hair, too, she added silently. She fought the temptation to reach out and slide her fingers through his dark locks before they disappeared completely.
Fortunately, Aang interrupted that train of thought before she could do anything stupid. "You'll be able to wear your hair loopies soon," he said, moving his finger in an arc from his forehead to his ear. "After the war is over, you won't have to hide them ever again."
After the war is over...
Here she was, swooning over Aang's hair when the war was still going on. The war that had taken her mother from her. The war that had destroyed Aang's people.
The invasion was less than a week away. Katara tried not to think about how the eclipse was their one desperate shot at winning the war. With Ba Sing Se captured, a full-on assault with the Earth Kingdom army was no longer possible. Not only that, Aang was blocked from the Avatar State, and he still hadn't learned—let alone mastered—firebending.
Defeating the Fire Lord during the eclipse had always been their best chance at winning the war. But now, doing so was their only chance—and it was riskier than ever.
"Katara?"
She blinked. Aang was watching her with concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked. Then he looked down, away. "Was it…something I said?"
"No, not at all!" Katara said hastily, her ears growing hot. She was the one daydreaming about Aang's hair between her fingers until remembering the war brought her back down to earth, and Aang was the one blaming himself for her space-out? "I was just thinking about the invasion and how it's coming up and…"
She paused just short of saying It's our only chance. Because he didn't need that kind of pressure, not now.
"…and how the war is going to be over soon," she finished.
Aang was quiet, his face still turned to the ground. "The war is going to be over soon," he said, echoing her words. When he lifted his head, his gray eyes were unusually intent. "Which means we've got life after the war to think about, don't we?"
The air between them grew thick. "Yes," she said with a jerky nod.
Did his words mean what she thought they meant? Or was she reading into them too much?
"So…" Katara began, mentally casting around for a different topic—preferably one that wouldn't end with her presuming too much and looking like an idiot.
Her gaze fell on the Air Nomad necklaces hanging from the dark ribbon in Aang's hand. "What are you going to do with the necklaces? After the war, I mean."
Aang lifted the loop of ribbon and laid the necklaces across his hands. The polished sandalwood beads retained their rich hues and beauty even after one hundred long years. Tassels of deep red flanked the pendants in a striking splash of color. No wonder the Fire Nation merchant had kept the necklaces in reserve for the most discerning customers. The lives of the Air Nomads who had worn these beads, reduced to a sales transaction.
Or they would have been, if Aang hadn't stolen back what the Fire Nation had so violently ripped away.
"I'm going to return them to the Air Temples and put them to rest," he said. Then his face fell. "I wish I knew which temples they came from. Looks like I'll have to guess."
Katara reached out and gently cupped her hand below his, helping him carry the burden of the ownerless beads. Aang shifted the necklaces to his other hand and folded his fingers around her palm. Their hands fit together like two halves of a circle—and for the moment, they filled the holes left by the missing pieces in each other's lives.
Aang's fingers moved, grazing over her palm in the barest whisper. Gooseflesh prickled up her arms. When he looked at her again, his eyes were earnest. Intense.
She almost forgot to breathe.
"Katara…"
He hesitated, as though searching for what to say next.
Then his brow furrowed. His gaze focused on something beneath her chin. "You're still wearing your Fire Nation necklace," he said with surprise. "Where's your mother's necklace?"
Katara's fingers flew to her neck. The smooth amber stone of her Fire Nation choker sat above the hollow of her throat—a poor stand-in for her mother's pendant of carved nacre. Aang wasn't the only one who had become too accustomed to his Fire Nation disguise.
She hurried back to her tent. Once she retrieved the small leather pouch containing her mother's necklace, she joined Aang again in the clearing.
But when Katara tugged open the drawstring of the pouch, she gasped.
"Katara?" Aang said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
Without a word, she shook the contents of the pouch into her hand. Out spilled the ribbon of her mother's necklace—sliced through where the pendant was sewn in place, leaving the ribbon divided into two and the stone dangling by a thread. Then she reached into the pouch and withdrew the other item, a small knife bound in a length of cloth that had unraveled, leaving half of the thin blade exposed.
"Oh no, your mother's necklace…" Aang said, his eyes wide with shock.
Katara's hands were shaking from grief and disbelief. "Sokka must have stashed the knife in this pouch so he wouldn't lose it," she said tightly.
Even though everyone in the group had their own bags, they had been traveling together for so long that their belongings were more often communal than separate. Which meant that Sokka probably stuffed his knife into her pouch without realizing it was hers, and he must have thought that the cloth wrapped around the blade would protect anything else that was inside.
The knife and the pouch fell to the ground. Katara closed her fist around the severed necklace and sank to her knees.
"I can't believe it. What am I going to do?" she whispered, clenching her arms around her stomach, her eyes burning with tears.
A soft clatter of beads. Then Aang crouched down in front of her.
"Do you think you can use this ribbon for now?" he asked.
She sniffled and looked up. The wooden necklaces lay in a loose pile on the ground beside Aang. Stretched between his hands was a length of dark ribbon.
"That's the ribbon that tied the Air Nomad necklaces together," she realized.
He nodded. "I know it's not the same, but maybe you could use this ribbon for your mother's necklace until you find another one."
Katara took the strip of cloth from him. This ribbon was narrower than the one that had formed her necklace, but the difference in width was almost impossible to tell. And at certain angles, the sheen of the cloth took on the deep blue of the twilight sky.
"It's perfect," she breathed.
She snapped the single thread that still attached the iridescent blue pendant to the old ribbon. Rolling Aang's ribbon between her finger and thumb, she formed one end into a point and threaded it through the metal loop in the pendant.
"I'll sew the stone onto the ribbon when I get the chance," she said, holding up the new necklace. The pendant hung from the middle, where the ribbon tapered then widened again as it traveled through the small metal loop. "But right now, I don't want to risk losing it somehow."
But Katara wanted to do one more thing before she stowed the necklace back into its pouch—sans Sokka's small utility knife, of course. One more thing to make her transformation back into her Water Tribe self complete.
She reached behind her neck and unhooked the clasp of her choker, letting the crimson band slide to the ground. Then she tied the dark ribbon of her mother's necklace where the choker had lain.
Or she tried to.
Perhaps the material of the new ribbon was more slippery than she was used to. Perhaps her fingers were shaking too much from the turmoil of the day. Whatever the reason, she just couldn't form the knot to hold her necklace in place.
Katara lowered her hands, which now shook from frustration. But all was not lost.
"Hey, Aang…can you help me put on my necklace?"
"Sure thing."
Aang circled behind her. She held the pendant against her throat, the mother-of-pearl a cool coin against her skin. The ribbon went taut as he grasped each end and began to tie the knot.
Katara let herself drift in the ebb and flow of Aang's movements. Gentle tugging as he crossed one end of the ribbon over another. His thumb pressing the base of the knot against the nape of her neck. Fingertips resting along the side of her throat, then brushing in feathery strokes across her skin.
The sensation of someone else fastening such an intimate piece of herself both thrilled Katara and made her vulnerable—as if she was letting Aang inside in a way she never had with anyone else.
Feeling exposed like this with another person frightened her, a little. But she also relished it. Because that person was Aang.
When he was finished, Katara reached behind to tuck the loose ends of the ribbon beneath the strip that lay flat against her neck.
Her fingers bumped into Aang's. It turned out he had the same idea.
Moving together, they slid one end of the ribbon beneath the necklace and then the other. His fingertips glided along with hers, grazing the border between the line of fabric and her neck.
Even after the last bit of ribbon was nudged into place, their fingers still hovered together, nestled on her shoulder like a pair of sparrow doves.
Aang's fingers shifted over hers, slow and hesitant. He covered her hand.
"What were you guys thinking?" someone bellowed across the clearing.
Katara jerked her head toward the voice. Sokka and Toph were hurrying toward them, faces red from running in the afternoon heat.
She and Aang jumped away from each other. A guilty flush rose to her own face, even though she didn't know what exactly it was she felt guilty about.
As Sokka berated them about causing a ruckus in town—"They were hunting for a couple of kids from the colonies, so Toph figured we'd better scoot," he said, giving each of them the evil eye—his words were nothing but noise washing over Katara. Because an epiphany hit her then, like a boulder of ice to the stomach.
Aang had just tied a betrothal necklace around her neck.
But her mother's necklace had lost its significance as a token of engagement two generations ago. And Aang had only been helping her out—at her request. But the way her heart had thrilled as he tied the ribbon, the way he had covered her fingers with his hand, infused the necklace with new meaning.
As Sokka continued to grouse, Aang explained their escapade in town and soothed his and Toph's ruffled feathers with his trademark charm. But Katara was hardly listening. She kept coming back to something that Aang had said earlier.
"We've got life after the war to think about, don't we?"
By the end of his tale, Aang had Sokka laughing and Toph snickering at how he and Katara pulled the wool over the eyes of the greedy Fire Nation merchant. Then he turned around so their friends could admire the Air Nomad robes he had created out of little more than a few sheets of cloth. Inspired by Aang's example, Sokka and Toph each turned into their own tents to change into their new outfits.
Aang is right, Katara realized as her brother and Toph emerged, dressed like their old selves. We've got life after the war to think about. A life where we won't have to hide who we are anymore. Where we can pick up the pieces that went missing…
Aang scooped up the Air Nomad necklaces from the ground and held them up for their friends to see. The necklaces that belonged to a people who were no more. Katara remembered the way his hand had fit within hers, the look full of meaning he had given her.
…and build something new.
For the first time in her life, Katara dared to glimpse what life after the war might look like.
But we have to win the war first, she reminded herself.
For the day of the black sun was coming soon—the day the war would finally end.
We're going to win, she told herself firmly. The world is counting on us.
Aang burst out laughing at something Sokka had said, while Toph smirked and rolled her eyes. Sokka tried to act hurt, but a smile broke through anyway. The kind of carefree joy that Aang brought to everyone around him could only come from someone who had lived a lifetime of peace.
But right now, imagining life without war was like stopping to rest during a snowstorm when she had to keep moving to stay alive. Peace was a dream. War was reality.
In a few short days, Katara and her friends would join their allies in a historic invasion of the Fire Nation. They would win the war on the day of the eclipse. They had to.
And then she would have all the time in the world to think about life after the war.
Author's note: If you liked this story, reviews are always appreciated! ❤️