flow
After Gaoling's summit, their next stop is the Southern Air Temple. Without even discussing it (and against vehement opposition from both the ship's captain and Earth Kingdom officials) both Katara and her pupil decide to ditch the schooner and the security detail, opting instead to walk the coastal trade route to the city of Chin, some two hundred miles to the east. There, they plan catch a ride on a ship sailing past the Petola Mountain Range on its way to the South Pole. It's a long way, but the young Airbender promises that travel will be much faster once they retrieve his sky bison, Appa.
Captain Fong frowns fiercely when they inform him of their plans- it's the most emotion Katara has ever seen him show. "But the Red Lotus-"
"We'll be traveling incognito," she reminds him. "We'll probably see less of the Red Lotus than we did under your protection."
He grumbles, and that is that. Their bags are packed, and they say their goodbyes to Gaoling later that morning. A contingent of politicians watch them depart with a mixed bag of disapproval across all their faces. Katara tightens the straps on her pack and ignores them. What do they know, anyway? If it were up to them, Captain Fong and his band of goons would be trudging along behind them, knocking over pedestrians and scowling at children.
It takes a few hours before the thrill of the trip fades- about as long as it takes for blisters the size of duck eggs to form on Katara's feet.
"Why did you leave Appa behind in the first place?" Katara grumbles irritably to her companion.
He's still bouncing down the road like they're on some grand adventure. "Gyatso said I had to live like a Water Tribesman. Really understand their way of life," he explains. "It killed me to leave Appa behind, but it was probably for the best. Not much to hay to eat in the North Pole."
The days after their uneasy truce by the riverbank see a change between the two of them. The bounds of stiff, cold decorum are broken, and Katara slowly finds herself smiling again, even laughing. The Airbender's antics drive her to madness more often than not, but the effort of holding up that wall of mistrust and hatred between them falls slowly away. She spends the time on the road getting to know the man she's working with. For the most part, they don't revisit the topics discussed that night. They dance around them carefully, a silent understanding that some things are still off-limits.
As they navigate their way along the coast, Katara discovers his inability to maintain a schedule of any sort. The Airbender is too easily distracted by anything and everything- a pack of hog-monkeys clustered in a copse of trees, or the fins of giant koi fish as they transit along the coast. On the seventh morning, he delayed them for over an hour, trying to pet a traveling musician's ostrich horse that let him know in no uncertain terms that it did not wish to be pet.
It's up to Katara to keep their schedule, and more often than not, she finds herself grumbling that they might have made a mistake, leaving the schooner behind. Traveling merchants never pass up an opportunity to make money, and the cost of sitting uncomfortably for hours on end in a rickety wagon makes a huge dent in their shared money reserves. She very carefully- very quietly- begins whispering his title in the ears of merchants to get them a mile here, a meal there.
At first, he doesn't seem to mind too much, content to kick his feet up as an ostrich horse drags them along in a cart full of turnips for an afternoon. But she begins to notice the wince, the scowl, the grimace that settles across his features each time he is mentioned with an emphatic look.
It all comes to a head a week later.
A wealthy merchant passes as they trudge along the dusty road. Carriage after carriage laden with luxury goods like pelts, ornate rugs and golden candle holders rattle past, and there's a contingent of hired guards surrounding each one. She is calculating before she can stop herself. Armed guards, perhaps a night of good food- it's been days since they ate anything hot- and she is making her way to the head carriage before she's done thinking.
A hand on her shoulder draws her back. "Don't."
"But-"
"Please, don't," he begs.
The caravan rolls past, and moments later, all that's left to mark its passage is a billowing dust trail. She sighs heavily, and continues walking, pulling her shoulder straps a little tighter. An hour later, she wishes she'd ignored him. "Why not?" she asks suddenly.
He knows what she means without explanation. "I'm tired of using my title as a meal ticket."
"They want to help you."
"They want to help the Avatar."
A sigh. "I think we can both admit that in this context, it's one and the same. We're running late as it is-"
He whirls to face her. The tell-tale little vein in his right temple makes an appearance.
Oh, she thinks. Angry.
"One and the same?" he repeats, low. "There's no difference between Aang, and the Avatar?"
"Not always," is her careful reply, but she's not even sure it's the truth. He is a boy, mischievous and impulsive and ready to run at the drop of a hat. The Avatar commands councils, world leaders, silences opposition with a look. Changes thousands of years of tradition with an afterthought.
"Really? Then why won't you call me by my name?"
The question stops her in her tracks.
"I've heard you call me every other name under the sun," he continues dryly. "'Your Holiness', 'Avatar', even a nice, emphatic 'Him' to that florist on the road with us five days ago- but never 'Aang'. If it's all the same, then it shouldn't matter, right?"
"That's- it's complicated, and-" She's babbling, uncomfortable. "You're the most prominent religious diplomat in the entire world. I'm not supposed to address you so informally."
Strong arms cross over his chest. "You won't call me by my own name for the sake of propriety?"
She frowns. She never set much stock in hierarchies- the need to put one person above another, and she's far less inclined to use titles than she'd have him believe. After a half-dozen of the princess's pouting protests, she'd even started addressing Yue by name- one of the highest ranking people in both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes.
With a snap of clarity, she understands her reluctance. It was never about rank; it was to keep a distance between them. To maintain a relationship that would never- could never- extend further than stiff professionalism.
But she knows he hates council meetings. She knows he doesn't like jasmine tea as much as he pretends he does, and she knows that, title or no, he's not above pranking someone that upsets him. The Avatar became Aang after Gaoling, at a campfire by the river, and maintaining this facade wouldn't work anymore. The final vestige of the rank structure fell away, but she continued to cling to it like a child does a comforting blanket. A false sense of protection.
"I'm sorry," she breathes. "You're right... Aang."
His eyes widen. Her concession surprises him, but he recovers quickly, hiking his pack a little further up on his back and continuing down the dusty road. She watches him go for a moment- notes the upward tilt of his head and the triumphant slope of his shoulders, and somehow knows he's smiling even though she can't see his face- before she's running to catch up with him.
Weeks on the road finally culminate in a fortuitous circumstance. They are just outside Chin- and already a week late to the Southern Air Temple- when they bump into a group of Air Nomads, checking packs and food stores on the backs of two huge bison. Aang greets them with a smile wider than any Katara has seen since in months, laughing and clapping hands on shoulders and waving away the low, respectful bows of his countrymen. She stands to the side, not wanting to intrude. She can empathize, after all- weeks, months among people that aren't one's own takes a toll that isn't recognized until the return home, no matter how welcoming the hosts are.
After a while, he jogs back over to her. "They're from the Northern Temple," he tells her. "Heading back that way after selling some goods."
"That's nice."
"They've offered to give us a ride to the Southern Temple."
An audible sigh of relief. "That's even nicer."
"Yea..." He rubs a nervous hand along the back of his head. "They say that the Elders are worried about how late we are. They've sent word around to keep an eye out for us."
She nudges him in the ribs with an elbow. "I told you they would be."
His fingers go to his ribs almost absently. His cheeks are faintly pink- sunburn, probably. The weather is still unbearably hot, even this far south.
They fly out the next morning. The Airbenders are all at ease- another day on the back of a bison, something second nature to them- but Katara's mouth is agape as the ten-ton beasts leap into the sky with the weightlessness of a sparrow.
Aang grins at her, pleased with her wonder, but his tone is offhand when he points at her open mouth. "You're going to catch a bug."
She closes her mouth to stick her tongue out at him, and his laughter can be heard even over the rush of the wind.
They camp for the night at the easternmost edge of Whale Tail Island, and Katara spends the evening by the fire, surprisingly at ease as the Airbenders chatter back and forth to one another. They indulge Aang with a sparring session, and afterward, she freely admits that his Airbending is a force to be reckoned with. He preens shyly under her words of praise.
The shock and wonder return in full force as they pass through the Petola Mountain Range the following evening. The jagged peaks reach for the sky like shark's teeth, and the sun's rays over the steep valleys and rocky slides take her breath away. The Southern Air Temple is a marvel on its own- a feat of architecture, towers and platforms and gorgeous murals that fit in among the mountains as if it grew from the rock itself. She is gazing up the Temple like it's the most beautiful place she's ever seen when the bison settle their weight on a large platform.
As the Northern Airbenders hand their packs down to them (refusing payment of any kind, despite Katara's insistence), a contingent of positively ancient Airbender Elders, Gyatso among them, drop from a dizzying height to land beside them, robes flying behind them dramatically. They range in appearance from distinguished to ridiculous, but it's clear from the reactions of everyone around her that they command great respect. She bows respectfully, taking her cue from Aang, but she doesn't miss the little wink he sneaks his old mentor.
"I'm sorry we're late," Aang says when he straightens. "There were some complications on the road."
Gyatso nods with understanding, but there is a tangible note of relief in his wrinkled face. One of the more outlandish Elders, however, sputters a protest in a pinched voice. "Complications, Avatar Aang?" he whines. "We heard about the attack in Omashu. We feared the worst."
"The journey was quiet, Tashi. The complications were logistical."
Another Elder speaks, this one lending a commanding presence by his gaze alone. He must be Pasang, she realizes. Aang told her all the Elders' names on the flight in. "May I ask what possessed your Holiness to cross half the Earth Kingdom on foot?"
A shrug. Katara fears they'll find this casual response offensive, but obviously the Elders are used to it. Collectively, they heave an exasperated sigh, and usher him into an emergency meeting, robes fluttering in the wind. Aang spares her a quick glance, an apologetic smile, and then he is trailing behind them, a boy in trouble again.
They spend two weeks at the temple. Katara scarcely sees Aang at all during that time, and his Waterbending lessons come to an abrupt halt, but she finds herself plenty occupied, anyway. Two of Aang's old friends- Sangye and Kunchen- are assigned to keep her company. They are welcoming and kind, patiently hiking with her to stunning waterfalls and sharing the secret recipe for their famous custard tarts- a favorite of Aang's, she is told.
Kunchen is particularly attentive, offering to walk with her everywhere and leaving little cherry blossoms on the railing outside her chamber. With a start, she realizes he's developed a little crush. It stops her in her tracks; it's been a long time since anyone looked at her that way. Sangye notices, too, and when she weaves a few of the blossoms into her long braid, he hoots with laughter at the blush on Kunchen's cheeks.
A few days among the Air Nomads is enough for Katara to see where Aang gets his sense of humor. For a people who seem so outwardly subdued, there is a vibrant culture of play and camaraderie. She finds them delightful.
She catches glimpses of Aang, going to and from the Elders' Council Chambers. Despite his obvious excitement to return home, she can't help but notice that he seems more and more withdrawn. Two days before they are scheduled to leave (off to Kyoshi Island for a festival in honor of its namesake), she bumps into him on the way to dinner, his shoulders slumped in such defeat that her heart flips with a pang of sympathy. His head is down, eyes on the ground. He doesn't even notice her.
A gentle tug on his kasaya to get his attention. She wasn't even aware of reaching out, but she is relieved to see him smile at the sight of her.
"Katara," he says, breathy with surprise. "I didn't see you."
"Are you on your way somewhere? Maybe you could join me. I'm meeting Sangye and Kunchen for dinner."
He flashes her a guilty look. "I'd love to, but I can't tonight. Pasang... It doesn't matter." He looks down at his hands uncomfortably, one finger tracing the blue of an arrow. "I'm sorry that I haven't been able to show you around at all. I wanted you to-" He stops abruptly, lips pressed together.
She nudges him gently. "You wanted me to...?"
"I just didn't mean to abandon you, that's all."
"You didn't. You have obligations- I understand. And anyway, Sangye and Kunchen are with me. Kunchen took me to see a waterfall the day before last- so beautiful. I can't believe you grew up here."
There is the slightest downturn of his lips, and she bites her own. She stopped him to- well, she doesn't quite know why she stopped him, but whatever her intention was, all she seems to have done is make him feel worse.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly after a moment. She doesn't know why.
He sighs. "Don't be."
Another long moment of silence. "Are you...?"
An answering nod. "I'll be alright."
"I'll... let you go then," she murmurs. "See you later?"
"See you later."
He still looks low, she thinks, but the slump in his shoulders is lessened, if only by the smallest increment.
The evening before they are scheduled to leave, she is sitting on a stone bench under a canopy of white wisteria. It's her favorite spot at the Temple, so far. Quiet and out of the way, and the sweet smell of the flowers soothes her. Her eyes are closed, head leaning back against a stone pillar, when she hears footsteps.
It's Aang. He's watching her, something unknowable behind his eyes, and she tilts her head and quirks one shoulder in question. He gives her a look that isn't an answer before clearing his throat. "Gyatso was looking for you," he says, and the older man appears at Aang's elbow.
Gyatso gives her a charming smile, eyes merry. She stands to bow, but he ushers her to stay seated. "Can I join you?"
"Of course."
"I'd love to stay," Aang murmurs, and there is a wistfulness in his voice that tells her it's the truth, "but I've got a meeting with Tashi about finding an Earthbending teacher. I'll see you both at dinner?"
They nod, and Aang turns to leave, one last look over his shoulder serving as his goodbye.
Gyatso is the first to break the silence. "I am pleased to meet with you again, Katara."
She is surprised that, in spite of everything- her history, the circumstances- she is able to honestly return his greeting.
He stands under petals drifting like snow. "A quiet spot. Peaceful. I often forget that it is here."
"I could spend the rest of my life in a place like this."
"It would be life well-spent," he notes, clasping his hands behind his back. "It is easy to take for granted something that sits right in front of you. I'm happy to be reminded of it. Strangers are often clarifying in that way."
She smiles in response.
"The other Elders and I have seen demonstrations of Aang's Waterbending," Gyatso says suddenly. "You and Master Pakku have done well. Aang speaks very highly of you."
"Thank you, Master Gyatso."
"It won't be long now until he masters the element altogether, and his focus will shift to Earthbending."
There is a swooping feeling in her stomach, and she draws a breath. "I'll be sure to leave him in good hands."
"In any given lifetime, there are five people in the world that share a special bond. The Avatar, and their elemental teachers." The old man gives her a curious look- she doesn't know what to make of it. "Throughout history, their relationships have varied from contractual agreements, to deep, lifelong friendships that often transcend the boundaries of time. There are many who believe the bond is sacred."
"I am honored to share that title with you, Master Gyatso," she says politely. The entire conversation unsettles her, for some reason. Transcending the boundaries of time is a tall order for two people who were barely on speaking terms a few short weeks ago.
"It is more than an honor. It is an obligation."
There is an undercurrent in his tone, and she finds herself suddenly wary. "I've already made an obligation. Are you suggesting I've bitten off more than I can chew?"
He laughs, merry, in spite of her accusation. "I'm suggesting, Master Katara, that you took this role under the guise of a contract. That he needed you, and you needed him. And while I believe those needs will change, it is truer now than it has ever been. And will still prove true long after he masters Waterbending."
She looks away. What is there to say? As far she knows, their needs haven't changed. "I'll remember that, Master Gyatso."
His smile is knowing. It keeps secrets.
Before she can comment, he bows low, still smiling. "Until we meet again, Master Katara."
Aang guides her by hand to greet his bison, a gargantuan mass of fluff and good nature. Absently, she notes the rough brush of Aang's palm against hers.
"This is Appa," he introduces, scratching the animal under his massive chin to the sound of contented lowing.
The bison has a smell to him, the faint scent of a barnyard, mixed with the elderberries Aang tells her he likes to munch on. His body is big and cumbersome, and on the ground, he's as nimble as the ships she used to see floating in the Northern Water Tribe harbor, too massive to reach the city pier.
She adores him instantly.
"Appa," she coos. She pulls her hand free of Aang's grip to bury it in the bison's white fur. It's softer than she expects. "He's beautiful."
Aang is delighted.
He loads their packs onto Appa's back- heavier now that they are able to carry more luxurious items like multiple pairs of underwear and even soap, with Appa's introduction to the group. Katara is too busy to assist him, all but wrapped around one of Appa's tree-trunk legs while the animal warbles joyfully at his newfound friend.
Aang practically has to tug her off the bison, and is just helping her onto the oiled leather saddle when the Elders join them, all in a line of orange and yellow. They bow low to Aang, and the indulgent smile he's carried for the last few minutes withers to something carefully blank.
"We wish you safety on your journey, Avatar Aang," Pasang says. "And we wish you the wisdom to pursue your studies and responsibilities with devotion and single-mindedness."
Katara almost snorts. Subtlety is a virtue lost on leaders, apparently. Aang catches the mirthful exhale of her breath, and the corner of his lips quirk up for the barest instant.
He bows low to Pasang when he recovers. "Thank you, Master Pasang."
Gyatso steps forward to place a fatherly hand on Aang's head. The young man's eyes close, the only peace it seems he is afforded during this visit. When they straighten, a look passes between them that makes Katara avert her eyes.
Tashi, not to be outdone, calls up to Aang after he leaps smoothly onto Appa's head to take a seat between the curving horns. "Remember your responsibilities, Avatar Aang," he whines in his nasally voice. "Remember to prioritize your safety over worldly desires and experiences."
Aang deigns to nod, tugging at Appa's reins to turn the bison to the southwest. He pauses, makes one final adjustment to Appa's direction. Katara lifts one brow; he could easily make these adjustments in the sky.
Her suspicions are confirmed when he snaps the reins, a sharp yip-yip! cutting through crisp morning air. Appa lifts off the ground with the force of a hurricane, sending gusts of wind in every direction and robes flapping like the wings of startled birds. Tashi's robes fly over his head, baring milky legs that likely haven't seen the sun since before Katara was born, and she covers her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter as she hears him shouting indignantly, "He did that on purpose!"
With Appa, travel is completely changed. Their days are almost leisurely, and Katara's complaints shift from blisters on her feet to the fact that it's difficult to read her book with all the wind blowing the pages around. Kyoshi Island is only a two day journey, whereas before, it might have been a week or more by ship. They stop to spend the night in the port city at the northern tip of Chuje Island. They fly over the town, looking for an inn with a stable large enough to accommodate the great bison.
From her vantage point, Katara can see eyes following them wherever they go. Some are curious, but there is one group in particular that catches Katara's notice- watching them long after they fly past with deep divots between black brows. After the relative peace of the last six weeks, it is a harsh snap back to reality, and Katara is on high alert again. She questions the decision to fly Appa over the town, but Aang only rolls his eyes as he settles the bison into the courtyard of the largest inn.
Luck isn't with them. The innkeeper glares as Appa swallows an entire row of the garden's tomato plants, and announces that there isn't a stable in the southern hemisphere big enough to accommodate him. "And I don't have two rooms available, anyway," he tacks on irritably.
Aang leaps back to his seat on Appa's head as Katara scrambles up the bison's tail back to the saddle. "I guess we could always sleep outside of town," he says over his shoulder.
She shrugs noncommittally, unwilling to admit that the paradise of the Southern Air Temple has somewhat spoiled her appetite for sleeping on the ground.
He takes that as the acquiescence that it is, and they're off, sailing away from the town and into the sweeping wilderness of the forest to the south. They land in a meadow, wildflowers swaying gently at the tree-line. The grasses are browning- a shopkeeper in the city mentioned that it's been an unseasonably warm summer, far less rain than usual. Aang is careful to clear the dying flora away and set a little ring of stones around their fire, and deliberately stations Appa to block the wind.
He's settling in to a comfortable evening when Katara shoots him a meaningful look. His head drops back in resignation. "Now?" he groans.
"It's been over two weeks."
They pick their way through the tall grass towards the little pond that sits within a copse of oak trees, long, reaching limbs traveling low to the ground and providing a dynamic environment for a sparring session. He lets her hit him a little harder than she probably should, and she pretends she doesn't see him Airbending in between the branches, using little gusts of wind for extra power behind his blows. He is laughing by the end, and even she is grinning, and Aang admits as they walk back to camp that it feels good to stretch those muscles again.
They collapse into their respective bedrolls by the dwindling light of their little campfire. The last embers are fading to black as she closes her eyes, and thinks to herself that there's something comfortable about being on the road again.
Aang shakes her awake, his hands rough on her bare shoulders. She draws a surprised breath and immediately coughs on smoke, a burning in her lungs. Her eyes widen in panic. They are surrounded by flames, circling them like a panther stalking its prey.
"We have to go!" Aang shouts, wild.
Appa bellows in distress from fifty feet above them as they scramble to save their belongings. It proves fruitless- the grasses are dry and catch like flash paper, and the water from the pond is too far to help them. She cries out when embers burrow into the skin of her hands, and then Aang is there, sweeping her off her feet and drawing her to him. She feels his muscles bunching, the deep inhale of breath, and they are soaring through the air, climbing, climbing, then falling, falling back to the burning earth below them. Her eyes squeeze shut- there is nothing she can do to help them, and that helplessness terrifies her. She clings tightly to him, her face burrowed into the crook of his neck.
A jarring feeling; her hip and her shoulder meet something solid. She waits for the fire but it never comes, and her eyes open. Appa must have snatched them from the air, sweeping low to catch them as they fell. Her head is pillowed on Aang's chest, his arms still around her when he opens one bleary eye, red from smoke.
"That was unfortunate," he says succinctly.
Katara takes stock of their losses by the light of the moon as Appa sails on to Kyoshi Island. Both their packs (stored, thankfully, in Appa's saddle for the night) were saved, but their bedrolls are gone. They left behind the entirety of their food stores, too, all of their cookware, and many personal belongings. She heaves a sigh.
As Appa crosses over open ocean, she asks Aang if they can dip low. He notices the way she hides the burns on her hands, and he frowns deeply, his eyes dropping to the ruffle of Appa's fur in the wind. A moment later, the bison is sinking into the water like it's a warm bath.
Katara scrambles gingerly down his tail, and sits down. She sucks in a bracing breath before plunging her burns into the saltwater. A grimace. Healing isn't painful, exactly, but it's not a pleasant feeling, either. Her breathing is just evening out when Aang sits down beside her.
He tilts his head in question. "Are you alright?" His voice is low, almost a whisper. She can scarcely hear it above the wind.
She holds up her hands, healed except for a faint outline of pink skin that would fade back to russet with time.
He sighs with relief and lays back, nestling into Appa's fur. "I'm sorry," he murmurs after a while.
"It wasn't your fault."
"The grass was dry. I should have put the fire out before I went to bed."
She frowns, looks down at her fingertips as she rubs them together. "The fire was out. There were only a couple embers left, and Appa was blocking all the wind."
"We must have missed some."
"I don't think so."
A penetrating look. "What else would have started it?"
She returns that look with a meaningful one of her own. "Not 'what'. 'Who'."
"You think someone tried to kill us?"
"I think someone tried to kill you," she corrects, "and I was an acceptable loss."
He frowns, shakes his head. "That wouldn't be very effective. Too many variables. Too many things to go wrong."
"Yea, but if it had worked..."
"Then, what?"
"Then," she says almost harshly, "we would have burned to death because we made camp too far from water, and I would have been- I was- useless. You can only Air and Waterbend, so you were either in the same boat as me, or only capable of fanning the flames. And it would have looked like an accident, the costly damage of a preventable mistake."
He doesn't meet her eyes. "I don't think that's true."
"We need to start taking your safety more seriously. This almost cost you your life."
"Assuming that's what this was at all-"
"Okay, then assuming it was just an accident, we still would have been burnt to a crisp because we weren't more careful," she bursts out. "It's dangerous, Aang."
"I wouldn't let anything happen to you." His voice is laced with fierce emotion. Anger, discomfort, probably. With her outburst, with the fact that she is forcing him to face a harsh reality.
She doesn't know what to do with the heaviness in the air, so she makes a wry face. "Thought that was supposed to be my job."
When he doesn't answer, she gives him a teasing poke in the ribs, flinching when he draws in a sharp hiss of breath. Is he really that angry?
No, she realizes, looking down at where she poked him, at the charred, ashen mess of his yellow linen shirt and the swath of fair skin on his ribs turned a fiery, angry red.
She gasps. "Why didn't you say something?"
He shrugs.
"Take your shirt off," she orders. "That's a deep second-degree burn. It'll take days to get that back to normal, and you still might have nerve damage. And you'll definitely have a scar."
"What's another scar?" he mumbles.
"Take it off."
Without another word, his shirt is gingerly removed and flung behind him with a little sweep of Airbending. It lands with a thump in Appa's saddle, and she goes to work, thankful for moon, nearly full tonight. It lends her strength, lends her knife's-edge control as she guides her fingertips over each individual rib. He winces occasionally, groans low every so often, but otherwise his eyes close under her ministrations, and she continues her work in silence.
He does have a lot of scars, she thinks, including one she's taken note of before during Waterbending lessons, but never had the nerve to ask about. Its right above his heart, three jagged lines that cross his pectoral muscle. She nods to it. "What's that from?"
His eyes blink open, following her look. A sheepish grin. "A moose-lion. I tried to pet her cub. She didn't like that." He chuckles at the memory, eyes closing again. "Tashi's voice actually went beyond the range of human hearing when he was yelling at me. Sangye and Kunchen laughed about it for weeks."
She chuckles, too.
After a moment, though, he frowns. "I was twelve. I didn't know what I was, then- didn't understand why Tashi yelled at me like that. Sangye and Kunchen were with me, and- barely a word to them." A deep sigh. "I was paying the price of being the Avatar before I even knew about it."
"All children get scolded," she murmurs. "And everyone, regardless of age, makes mistakes. He was only doing what he thought was right. I'm sure you found it in your heart to forgive him."
"And what about you?"
Her hands drop; the question confuses her. "Me?"
"Can you forgive me for what I did? For doing what I thought was right, even though it hurt you?"
A beat, a long pause. The question roils in her mind like a storm cloud, turbulence rolling into gentleness at the edges. Her hands resume their work. "I think I already have."
Kyoshi Island is not much to write home about; a fishing town not far from the Earth Kingdom mainland. Katara and Aang argue about lines of approach as it grows larger on the horizon. He wants to sail Appa right into the town center, dropping him in front of Kyoshi's statue and leaping off to go exploring. The townfolk are prepping for the Kyoshi Festival- it's the reason for their visit in the first place. "They'll probably be too busy to bother with us," he says brightly.
Katara argues against it. She suggests having Appa hide in the rocky hills, several miles south of the town, and make their approach as common travelers. "We can get a feel for the town and any potential threats without having to navigate your usual dog-and-pony show," she reminds him. "Imagine being able to walk into a village and not immediately having to summon the good will of all the Spirits to bless the tuna haul or whatever it is that you do."
That comment is rewarded with a flick on her forehead, and she swats him on the back of the head in rebuttal, but in the end, they go with her plan. She knew they would, the draw of potential anonymity too alluring for a man who hates unnecessary fanfare. Appa is set loose on a patch of elderberries an acre wide, and Aang and Katara shoulder their packs and begin the hike into town. The trails and roadways are well-maintained, and they reach the village gates within an hour. Eyes follow them- the sight of a Water Tribe girl and an Air Nomad traveling together is strange, and she's reminded of Chuje, of the risk they took just by traveling through town. She goes to a vendor and purchases a wide straw hat to cover Aang's forehead tattoo. With any luck, nobody ill-intentioned notices them as anything other than an unorthodox pair of travelers.
With that thought in mind, she relaxes, just a little. Eyes still scan for unseen threats, but she is still able to laugh when Aang pays an exorbitant amount of money for a strawberry custard tart whilst simultaneously stealing a fistful of blueberries out from under the cart owner's nose. He tips the blueberries into her open palm as they wander away, and she shoots him a wry look.
"You're still the thief no matter who's holding the goods," she tells him.
"Yea, but now you're an accomplice," is his airy reply.
They make their way into the center of town, standing on the little bridge that curves under the shadow of the Kyoshi statue. The statue has clearly undergone a fresh paint job, her face a blinding white and her red lips like a slash of blood. She wears a massive gold headpiece, affixed with twelve lit candles- in honor, Katara assumes, of the upcoming festival.
Aang stares up at the statue, hard, his own lips pressed into a thin line, and she knows he is thinking of tomorrow, of stepping into the mantle of the Avatar yet again. The blank smiles and adoring crowds.
"I've never seen you wear anything this flashy," Katara notes.
He grunts. She hides a dagger cut of disappointment; she'd hoped to make him laugh.
"It seems a little risky to have a bunch of lit candles sitting on the head of a wooden statue under the sun on a breezy day," she continues. "Recent experience tells me that a wooden statue won't be able to move fast enough to outrun flames."
The crack of a smile. She's satisfied.
He shifts from foot to foot, scrutinizing the statue's ornate headdress. "How many candles do you think I can blow out in one shot?"
"Do not-"
The answer is nine, but Aang couldn't have predicted the vehement protest of the two warriors standing guard at the statue's feet. The warriors leap at them, and Aang and Katara share one quick look before darting into the crowd. The warriors are fast, but Aang and Katara are faster, and they tuck into a low stairwell at the edge of town, panting and grinning at one another.
That is, until a shadow blocks out the afternoon sun. Kyoshi Island's famed warriors, spears leveled at Aang and Katara's chests.
"Busted," Aang mutters.
A third voice enters the conversation from beyond their line of sight, shock as prevalent as indignation.
Sokka pushes past the warriors, lowers his club. "Katara?"