master and pupil
With the Avatar's arrival, Katara focuses on her training to the exclusion of all else. She industriously ignores the looks of utter bewilderment shot to her by the young Airbender during their first (and many subsequent) lessons together. Let him be confused, she thinks witheringly. It's his own training he's missing, and with less than six months to go before her return to the South Pole, she has no intention of missing any of hers.
Yue grows more and more frustrated with Katara's refusal to behave politely, but Katara forces the princess to remember that she doesn't owe that man anything. She never asked for his help, and he never bothered to learn about the fallout, either. The Northerners might take comfort in pretending that all was well that ended well, but eighteen months of cruelty and isolation is still far too fresh in Katara's memory to forgive anyone that easily.
Memory? she scoffs. As if it isn't still happening- she just doesn't let it bother her like it used to.
Even so, it's difficult to ignore his attempts to snag her attention. Sidelong glances during lessons on defensive positions; attempts to sidle closer or pair with her during one-on-one sparring sessions. All his efforts are rebuffed with a frosty glare and swift relocation. She may have even bared her teeth, once.
Despite her own efforts, he eventually manages to partner with her. Pakku, sighing in exasperation at his antics, pairs them up following a lesson on advanced fluid dynamics.
"Since you won't listen to me, I'm going to let her teach you," the old man carps. "You're about to learn why my lectures are more valuable than a woman's side profile, your Holiness." The title is mocking. Katara tries not to look too gleeful. "Doleful eyes won't save you in the sparring ring."
She takes Pakku's words as tacit permission to bury the young man under a geyser of pressurized water.
To Pakku's credit, the Avatar does pay attention in his lessons after that; no more staring, no more brows knit in confusion when she deigns to shoot him a dirty look. Not that it matters, because it's what comes after the lessons that Katara feels the most uncomfortable. It borders on panic. She's not afraid of him- in spite of his prowess in Airbending and what might be a bright future in Waterbending if he could wrap his thick skull around the fact that his efforts to get back in her good graces are wasted. But for all her glares and snarls, she's secretly terrified of what he might say, given the opportunity to corner her. Or really, what he might compel her to say. It took minutes to ruin everything last time, and that was a friendly conversation. She has nothing friendly to say now, and she is acutely aware of what it might cost her.
Avoiding him is obviously her safest bet.
She spends weeks dodging. One week, two weeks. Avoiding the library, where, prior to his arrival, many of her evenings were spent studying combat theory or the history of Tui and La. Meals taken in her room. She even begins to ignore Yue's calls to tea, fearing the young Avatar would discover their friendship and use Yue to help bridge the gap. At first, Katara wouldn't put it past her northern counterpart to stage an intervention. She's certainly made her disapproval of Katara's behavior clear.
Yue settles the matter after the third skipped tea time, renewing Katara's faith in her when she all but drags from her room one bright winter morning. Their friendship is as cherished to Yue as it is to Katara, and despite her disapproval, the Northern Princess promises to keep the Avatar out of it.
Eventually, the Avatar's interest in her appears to fade. His easygoing nature- all that wry laughter and all those witty smiles- fades with it, but he has enough friends and admirers surrounding him, keeping him occupied, that Katara spares him only the faintest flicker of pity. Even that hint of sympathy keeps her up late one evening, berating herself for noticing in the first place. Where was he when she cried herself to sleep every night?
His eyes still follow her when he thinks she's not looking, but it becomes more of an irritation, part and parcel of living among people who hate her. Like the glares that trace her path as she walks past the market on the way home every evening, or the way her classmates' conversations end abruptly when she walks in a room.
After a few months, his skill in Waterbending grows, outpacing even the most advanced of his fellow students- Katara being the only notable exception. It's a fact for which she is eternally grateful, and she freely admits her own pettiness when Yue asks about it. Katara's mature enough to admit to how poorly she would handle being outclassed by her rival- to acknowledge just how much the bitterness would choke her. He's powerful without even trying.
Of course he is. Hasn't he always been, in more ways than one?
She frowns as she pulls on her parka at the end of the day's lessons, a wretched, nagging thought permeating her mind. I'd still be in the healing house if he wasn't.
The sun is setting, and the combat yard is empty. Her fellow students never wait for her- she wasn't popular to begin with, and became even less so when it was clear that only Master Pakku (and now, the Avatar) could give her a run for her money in the sparring ring. She rustles in her bag for some bandages, a quick fix for a cut she'll heal later. Ice mixed with a water whip (cheating for all intents and purposes, but it isn't in her nature to tattle). A gift from one of her classmates. Suddenly, she catches movement from the corner of her eye.
"Hi."
She freezes. The Avatar- that voice haunts her into waking. She snatches up her bag, and makes to leave.
"No, wait." He grabs her arm to stop her, but promptly lets go at the sight of the furious glare she fixes him. "Wait. Please. I just want to talk to you."
That didn't go so well for her, last time. She crosses her arms over her chest and presses her lips together to keep her silence.
He notices. "What did I do?"
His voice, his demeanor, his words- they offend her as if he's offered her the deepest insult.
He doesn't even know.
Anger ignites like flash paper, but it settles quickly to embers. Furious she may be; illogical, she is not. Why would he know? Her life changed on a stray thought for him, and he probably has a dozen others like it a day. She doesn't hate him because he tried to help her- she hates him because it was an impulse, and he didn't care to learn about the aftermath. Why should he care now?
And, more importantly, why should she? An apology won't fix the last year and a half. As far as she's concerned, it won't fix anything.
Her crossed arms drop to her sides. She takes a steadying breath. "It doesn't matter."
His jaw works, muscles clenching at the corners. "It seems like it matters to you."
"It doesn't."
A bald-faced lie, and she can read his skepticism in the flicker of a vein at his temple.
"How can you say that?" he demands. "I've been going insane trying to figure out what I could have done."
"Why don't you ask your friends?" she snaps, but she regrets it as soon as it passes her lips. Already, she's said too much. More than she ever wanted.
He frowns. "Some of them say it's a Tribal matter- private. Others say that you're just... like this. That you've always been like this. But I know that isn't true, because you weren't..."
He reads like an open book- she can see him remembering their first meeting, sitting in Yagoda's healing house, laughing and smiling. And, it hurts. She hates that. It shouldn't hurt; it shouldn't matter at all.
"Maybe it is true," she says through gritted teeth.
"Why do you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you. I don't feel anything about you at all." If only that were true. But it sounds good. Feels good, too.
"So- what- you won't look at me on a whim?"
She forces herself to draw her eyes upward to meet his. They're like slate- gray and cold. Brittle, sharp. It doesn't answer his question, but it's all she's willing to give to him.
"What did I do?" he asks again. "Last time we talked, you seemed- well, we didn't talk long, but you weren't like this. Something must have happened." He holds her stare, and her gut churns at the feeling there, like he cares too much. "What was it?"
"Nothing." Her answer is cold. "A whim."
She adjusts her bag's strap on her shoulder, and marches from the yard, leaving the Avatar, mouth agape, behind her.
To the untrained eye, he leaves her alone after that. No more attempts to speak with her, no more chasing her down after lessons. Just withering looks from a safe distance.
That, she can easily live with. Now, he treats her exactly like everyone else does.
But from her periphery, she notes a streak of pettiness in him as wide as her own. The irresistible urge to be a nuisance. He shows restraint in the beginning, when he realizes that the source of her ire is neither decipherable nor solvable. That lasts for about a week, until suddenly he decides that he's had enough. After that, there isn't a sparring match or study session where the young Avatar isn't innocently involving himself in anything Katara does.
His Waterbending improves by leaps and bounds. Even Pakku notices, and when the old man blithely comments on it one day, the Avatar suggests mildly that it's due to his sparring matches with Katara, and the challenge only she can give him. Their classmates grin with malicious delight in the background.
To her honest horror, Pakku agrees with his assessment. They become permanent partners, only switching out to provide the other students in the class occasional opportunities to fight at higher skill levels.
His newfound Waterbending prowess antagonizes her every waking moment. Unorthodox bending moves- a reckless mixture of Water and Airbending- make it impossible to get a read on him. It isn't long before their skill levels are nearly matched. He can't imitate her finesse, the speed and fluidity of her delivery, but he makes up for it in unbridled power that he doesn't even have to break a sweat for. She complains to Yue about it, and is horrified with the Princess's assessment that Katara is likely benefiting from the challenge, too.
She redoubles her efforts to stay ahead, throwing herself into studying and sparring until there isn't a match between them that she doesn't win. His expression grows confused and sullen at each loss. She revels in it, even though she knows she'll have to defend her title again the next day.
Pakku notices her progress. To her great surprise, his attention is as focused on her as it is on the Avatar. He rubs at his chin thoughtfully, eyes probing.
Katara takes his scrutiny in stride. She excels in Waterbending to make a point- more than one, in fact. That she's as good as any of his other pupils. Better, even. She may only be there on the Avatar's whim, but she was deserving of it far before he ever opened his big mouth.
And, then, one day she and Yue are taking tea, both of them lounging idly in the lush chairs of her parlor, when the Princess points out that Katara has a mere eight weeks until her return home.
Her excitement to escape the North is palpable. It isn't even necessarily that she wants to go home, though she'll freely admit to anyone that asks (which is only Yue) that she misses Sokka, Bato, her father, to the point of acute pain. She's amassed a small collection of trinkets to bring home- a tea set from Yue and gorgeous stationary (Yue thinks she won't write when she leaves), books on healing and combat theory. Little knick-knacks here and there that remind her that two years of misery did not necessarily equate two years wasted.
When she closes her eyes, she imagines the ship pulling into the South Pole harbor, her family gathered at the pier. She'll wear her mother's dress, she thinks. A secret joke- her face and dress may be familiar to them, but this is a new woman. She swallows her pride and asks Yue if her seamstresses could mend some of the wear. Her friend delightedly obliges.
In spite of everything, she made a small life here. The tiniest thread of sadness thrums when she thinks of leaving. It is silenced quickly at the thought of the way Sokka will wrap her in his arms, maybe swing her around like he used to. Bato's silly jokes, her father's hand on her shoulder.
She'll be bringing a small collection of souvenirs. A knife for Sokka, beads for her father's hair- the Northerners don't use beading in their hair, but she figures they'll work the same in her father's beard as they will on northern thread. Goods are scattered around her room, and with a start, she realizes that her two small trunks won't be enough to fit everything.
She is on her way to place an order for a new chest when her entire life is uprooted.
Pakku stands in the foyer of her building, glaring at passersby like they should have expected he'd be there. Why they would, Katara can't imagine. He's never deigned to visit before.
"I've been waiting," he announces when she stops to pay her respects.
"My... apologies, Master Pakku." She recovers with a quick bow. "If I had known, I would have arrived sooner. Is there something I can assist you with?"
He pulls his face into a grimace, creating deep canyons of wrinkles in an already wrinkled face. "There is need of you."
"I'm at your service."
He taps his foot. Irritable.
"You have excelled beyond what I thought possible," he notes gruffly.
A quiet thank you, another bow. She's certain there's a point to this visit: his compliments always come with a price.
"In fact," he continues, "you have excelled beyond any student I've trained since I began teaching over thirty years ago. With time and experience, it is not impossible that you could become the greatest Waterbender of our age."
She blinks in surprise. That compliment is delivered without his usual rancor, like he really means it. "You honor me, Master Pakku."
He waves her off. "Banishing one of our most elite Waterbenders in both healing and combat to the South Pole seems to me like a waste of resources."
There's the Pakku she's familiar with. "I assure you, I will make good use of the lessons I've learned-"
"Yes, you will. Like I already said, there is need of you."
An uncomfortable prickling feeling in her chest. She places her arms behind her back and squeezes her hands together to keep still.
"It has become apparent that the Avatar can no longer remain idle in the North," the old man explains, like its obvious, like she should have already known. "As with all diplomats, he has work to do. In a few weeks' time, his Holiness will be departing to participate in a summit in the Earth Kingdom. As it is unlikely that he will return for any protracted length of time, it was requested that I join him, to continue his training."
She nods. A sliver of hope- perhaps she'd be free of the Airbender earlier than she thought.
"Of all available options, I am the most obvious choice to train him. But I have far too many responsibilities here for me to simply pick up and leave. Too many councils, too many organizations, too many students." There is the tiniest relaxation of wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. The mildest softening. "And, while I would no doubt be the superior Master, I have determined that, despite your lack of real-world experience, you are a suitable alternative."
Katara splutters. "Excuse me?"
"You're going with the Avatar," Pakku says. "To act as his Waterbending Master, personal guard, and healer, should the need arise."
"No- Master Pakku, please- I'm supposed to be going home-"
"Chief Arnook, Princess Yue, Master Yagoda and I have not labored the past two years to send you back to the South to give weekly lessons on herb-lore and back-street brawling," he says with finality. "We are passing over perhaps half a dozen more qualified candidates and giving this opportunity to you, at my insistence. Do not make me look the fool."
Anger finds her, the heavy heat of rage. "Then give it to one of them! I beg you, don't look at this as an-"
His eyes harden. "No student of mine will turn down the chance to serve the greater good."
"You mean to serve him."
"And by extension, the greater good."
Katara presses one hand to her mouth in dismay. "But... we don't even like each other."
"I'm going to pretend you said nothing so childish," he snaps. "You have three weeks to prepare for your departure. I expect you to properly thank Chief Arnook- and me, if we're being frank. And in the meantime, I suggest you prepare yourself. You'll be in the public eye. Everything you do will cast a reflection upon both Tribes. Behave accordingly."
Without another word, he turned on one heel, abandoning the shattered shards of her life on the floor behind him and leaving her to pick up the pieces.
Katara withdraws into herself, only leaving her room for lessons. It takes no time for Yue to notice, and late one evening, the woman is banging on Katara's apartment door, amidst the gawking and titters of her neighbors.
"Open this door, Katara," she commands, a far cry from her ordinarily sweet, gentle demeanor. "This instant, do you hear me?"
The door swings open. Katara shoots her a wry look. "Was that an order?"
Somehow, Yue manages to look dignified despite the hint of pink around her cheeks. "You know I don't give orders."
"That sounded pretty demanding."
"Well," she sniffs as she steps through the doorway, "I had to break through your sulking somehow."
The door shuts with a snap. "'Sulking'?"
"It's as good a word as any other-"
"How about grieving? Mourning? I was going home, Yue." A foot stamps angrily. "And now I'm about to follow around someone I can't even stand to be in the same room with- and he feels the same way about me!"
"How do you know how he feels?"
Katara falters, confused. But after a moment, she shrugs it away. "It doesn't matter- I don't want this. I was ready to leave all this behind me."
Yue bites her lip, hands twisting in her expensive dress.
"You're my friend, Yue- my only one here. Is this really what you want for me?"
Eyes on the ground. "As your friend, I want you to be happy. But... do you really want to just go home? All this training so you can go back to doing... what? A little light healing? Standing in the background of your father's councils, seen and not heard?"
Katara grunts. If anyone can attest to the validity of that statement, its Yue herself.
"As Princess of the Northern Water Tribe, I want you to join the Avatar," she says, almost pleading. Her hands rest on Katara's shoulders. "I want you to train him, fight beside him, defend him. Become his ally, become important, make your voice heard the way mine never will-"
A slip. Their eyes meet, darting.
And suddenly, Katara understands. "Pakku isn't the only one who pushed for this, is he?"
Yue laughs bitterly. "It wasn't my idea, but once I heard it, I couldn't let it go. Yes, I fought for it. Not just because of the things I just said, but because you deserve it. You have a strength I'll never have. Use it, please."
Katara ignores the compliment in favor of sinking deeper into her anger. It's becoming a habit, lately. "Wasn't your idea? Who's was it, then? His?"
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was. It only matters what you do next."
That isn't confirmation, exactly, but it is enough for Katara to feel another spike of anger. It burns brighter brighter, but Yue's words are dancing through her mind, fluttering above the anger like moths drawn to the light.
The chance to become important. To become someone. To be seen and heard. She never thought she could have those things- and she definitely never thought they would come easy. Perhaps... perhaps this is just the price to pay.
After a moment, she sits down heavily on her bed, head dropping into her hands.
"You really want to go home?" Yue presses, sensing a moment of weakness. "This could change everything for you. For us."
Katara knows it could. The Avatar was influential enough to change thousands of years of tradition, because of an afterthought.
Could she really go home, anyway? She didn't want to stay in the North, that was for certain, but was returning to a quiet life of lessons and meetings really what she wanted for herself? To stand in the background of her father, then her brother- maybe one day, a husband?
All the long, quiet hours of her life draw out before her.
"Alright," Katara says. "Alright."
Yue claps her hands in unrestrained delight, but quiets herself at the sight of the withering look Katara gives her. She glides over to her, sitting down and dropping a comforting arm around Katara's shoulders. "You don't have to like him," Yue murmurs. "It's a political alliance. It's not about being his friend. It's about being someone he can rely on."
Katara lifts a brow. "That sounds like a friend. I don't like him, Yue. He made me miserable."
"He didn't mean to-"
"Oh, that's better."
Yue sighs heavily. "It's only for a little while. Master Pakku says he's nearly finished with Waterbending, anyway. Six months or so, he says. Once his Holiness is ready, you can leave whenever you choose."
She considers that, rubbing her hands on her arms. Six more months with the man. It's a daunting prospect.
But what would come at the end of it? She'd be more than a Waterbending Master- she'd be the Waterbending Master that trained the Avatar himself. With that under her belt, how could they silence her voice at councils? How could they tell her that she needed their guidance, after she'd guided the most prominent religious diplomat in the world?
They'll never be friends- there is far too much muddying the water between them, and she has no interest in diving into the muck. But she could wade at the edges. She could get just close enough to teach him what he needs to know, and to benefit from the political weight behind his name. A mutually beneficial relationship, and all she has to endure is six more months with him.
"I can't be his friend," Katara says finally. "But I can do what you're asking of me. And then, when it's all over... I'll go home."
Yue beams. "You won't regret it."
"We'll see."
She doesn't write to Sokka or her father- Chief Arnook will likely send a letter informing them of the change of plans, anyway, she tells herself. No sense in doing it twice. It's a lie she's taking comfort in telling, because the truth is that she doesn't have the strength to put the words on paper, to send it home, when she could be going there herself.
Instead, she busies herself with preparations. Three chest-fulls of personal belongings have no place in a traveling teacher's pack. Yue agrees to store what she doesn't need, holding on to the keepsakes until Katara can pick up her life where she left off, after her term with the Avatar is over.
Katara's never been a teacher before, and becoming one of the most influential teachers in the world proves surprisingly nerve-wracking. She studies Pakku's methods closely, determines what she would like to adopt, what she could do without. She reads everything she can on teaching and leadership, cramming every piece of information she can share, any meaningful tidbit, into her brain. She may not like the Avatar, but that doesn't mean she'll be lax in his training.
Furtively, she watches the young man himself, mentally noting flaws in his technique, areas that he excels in. The way his eyes fall and skill often nose-dives after a particularly harsh dressing down from Pakku. The flash of a crooked grin that shows up when the old man delivers a rare compliment.
Pakku notices Katara's attentions, subtle as they are. "Prudent," he says approvingly one afternoon. "I'm pleased to see that you're taking this role seriously."
Like I have a choice. "Of course, Master Pakku."
"Have you spoken with the Avatar regarding your assignment to him? Your teaching methods? Your overall plans?"
She hasn't. In fact, she's been avoiding him like the plague.
Her silence makes the answer obvious, and Pakku grinds his teeth in irritation. "Go and speak with him, you dolt. You leave in five days."
She stomps away with her heart like a lead weight in her stomach. It's not as if she thought she could get away with never speaking to him. Rather, it was the fact that once she did- once the barrier was broken- there would be no end of it in sight. Irrationally, she'd delayed the inevitable as long as possible.
She can't delay it any longer.
He is rustling around the courtyard- it's his day to clean up after training (Pakku spares no one, not even holy icons)- when she approaches. Her feet are silent on the ice. An illogical part of her mind hopes he won't hear her. Perhaps he'll leave on his own, and she'll get a stay of execution.
His back is still turned when he finally heaves a sigh. "I wondered when we were going to talk."
She crosses her arms. "You could have approached me, first."
"I enjoy living, thank you very much."
She scoffs. "Hasn't stopped you from antagonizing me."
He turns finally, traces of a wicked grin stifled. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"I haven't sparred with anyone else in weeks. I see your degenerate Barracuda Position in my nightmares."
"My form isn't that bad."
Her rebuttal is swift. "You're going to snap your wrist if you keep flapping it around like that."
"Good thing I'm about to have such an excellent teacher."
She sniffs, tossing her hair at his sharp sarcasm. "If you have a problem with it, you could have chosen a different instructor. Someone else." A bitter laugh. "Anyone else."
He stares at her, hard. His arms are folded across his chest, veins in his forearms betraying his tension, and it takes a while for him to speak again. "What do you want, Katara?"
It's the first time she's ever heard him say her name, and she is unnerved by the way it sounds. Like it spent time on the tip of his tongue.
She pushes the thought away. "I've been studying your bending, and prepping lessons for our time away from the North Pole. I was wondering if there was something your Air Nation Elders determined you needed to know, outside of what Master Pakku has taught you. Or, if there's anything you yourself would like to focus on."
"You're the instructor."
Another heavy silence. She shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably, twists her parks between her hands. "Fine," she mutters. "I'll just improvise. As long as we camp near water sources, I'm sure I can figure something out..." She turns to leave. "Thanks for nothing."
A hand reaches for her, drops before it makes contact. "No, wait. I'm sorry." It sounds forced. His head hangs low. "There's just something about- about us. Gyatso has too many responsibilities as an Elder to join us while we travel, so, until I start Earthbending, we're going to be traveling alone together. Often."
Does he think she doesn't know that? She quirks her brows, a silent prompt for him to continue.
"I don't want to spend the next who-knows-how-long arguing. I just want to get through this as smoothly as possible, same as you," he says. "I know how you feel about me; you've made it pretty clear. But for the sake of everything we have to do, everything we have ahead of us, can we please just..."
"Can we just what?"
The arrow on his forehead wrinkles in irritation. "Can you stop acting like my existence is a personal offense to you?"
Her temper flares. "I'll let you in on a little secret: I've never been a patient person, and when it comes to you, my short fuse is even shorter. I didn't want to accept this job in the first place. If you get under my skin as much as I obviously get under yours, what on earth possessed you to choose me as your Waterbending Master?"
"You think this was my idea?"
"Wasn't it?"
"Definitely not," is his indignant response. "In fact, for a while, I argued against it. Why would I sign myself up for this kind of torture?"
"Then, why are we doing this?" she asks, exasperated.
A dry laugh. "Sounds like I had about as much say as you did."
"Are you telling me that we have to put up with each other because you couldn't say no to Pakku and Chief Arnook?"
"You didn't say no, either."
"You think I have that kind of power?" she scoffs. "I'm their subject. You're the Avatar. I can't believe you're letting them ruin our lives because of some... some... publicity stunt. That's all this is. The means to an end for something."
"They actually believe in you," the young man mutters quietly.
She is unnerved by his change of tone. Angry to pensive in the span of a breath. "So what if they do? It doesn't change anything."
"No, it doesn't."
"Then why are we going through with this?"
"Because..." he struggles to string together the words. She taps her foot impatiently. "Because, you're a good Waterbender. The best, really, besides Pakku himself. Maybe even better, since they tell me you're also a Master Healer. I know I could learn from you." His head rolls lazily to her. "If we can just get past... this."
The compliment is unexpected. It's not new information; she knows she is good. She knew the day she stepped off the boat and set foot on northern ice. But to hear him say it. To power past the irritation and boiling blood for a moment to admit the truth.
If the Avatar can manage to think rationally- impulsive as he is- then she can manage the same.
"Let's make a deal," she says. "I'll train you to the best of my ability- but I'm not your nanny, and I'm definitely not your friend. I'll make you the best Waterbender you can be, but I won't be some shoulder for you to cry on. If we can manage that- civility, if nothing else- then my time in your service will be over before you know it, and we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist."
He eyes her, expression guarded. "Is that what you want? What you think is best?"
"The best under the circumstances, yes."
A blank expression followed by a brisk nod. "Then so be it."
The final days pass in a blur. Pakku imparts sage wisdom ("Whack him with a stick if he can't get his form right- whack him with a rock if he can't get his attitude right"), and Yue cries into her cup at their last tea time. Before Katara knows it, she's standing at the pier, waiting for the Airbender to say his goodbyes to the Northern Water Tribe elite. They line up, flower petals falling (she doesn't even know where they got flower petals from) as the young man bows deferentially to Chief Arnook and Master Pakku. He sweeps up the brow of their sleek-looking schooner, chartered to take them all the way to the summit in Gaoling, and Katara trails slowly behind, her pack slung across one shoulder.
Pakku gives her a departing nod. It isn't much, and it's more than enough.
Yue sweeps her into one last weepy hug. "Write to me, won't you?" she begs, swiping tears from her cheeks. "Don't forget."
"I won't. Thank you for everything."
It is Chief Arnook that surprises her. His gnarled hand reaches for her elbow, guides her firmly up the brow.
"I bid you luck, Katara," he says sagely, as if they're old friends. As if his people didn't spend the last two years tormenting her.
"Thank you, Head Chieftain."
She makes to leave, her elbow sliding from his grasp, but his fingers tighten unexpectedly, all but hauling her back to him.
"A quick word before you depart," he murmurs. "You have been selected to represent the Tribes. All eyes are on you."
"I'm grateful for their faith."
He continues as if he didn't hear her. "There are some who might question the wisdom of sending two twenty-year-olds out into the wild, unsupervised. Some who fear the retribution of behavior deemed less than appropriate for a young man and a young woman- particularly a Master and pupil-"
She sputters a protest. "Head Chieftain... I assure you, I- we- would never-"
His hand releases her arm, satisfied, and takes a step backward, dismissing her with a quick nod. "Then may Tui and La guide your journey."
With one last look, one sweep of her eyes over the frigid northern expanse, she hefts her pack, steps off the brow, and puts the Northern Water Tribe to her back.