On Ji loved the way the kitchens felt at 5 am.

It was early enough to not be considered completely psychotic to be awake, as this is when the first people at the temple - the early risers, mostly the Firebenders - started to stir and a few eager workers began to start breakfast, but it was still quiet enough that she was undisturbed in the farthest stove in the rear.

On Ji was used to the rigidity of getting up before the sun greeted the sky. Her hometown had been a failed experiment by the late Fire Lord Ozai in which he'd commanded the entire population like a military. While he'd never admit it didn't work, as far as On Ji knew, she was from the only town that adopted such strictness. No singing, no dancing, no tomfoolery. Up before dawn, bed before sunset. One was to be quiet and only talk when called upon. One was to hold themself to the decorum of the pride of being a Fire Nationer.

Though she'd been genuinely hopeful of a love match between her and Zuko, she'd been more eager to leave her town and see if everywhere else was so…staunch. She wasn't even angry to find out it wasn't; there was a great, big wide world out there just waiting for her to explore. If she played her cards right, she never had to return home again.

She wasn't bound in the same way other ladies here were…ladies born higher up the chain of brilliance would be expected to return home and marry someone of pedigree. The only chance they had to get out of their hometown was to marry someone from elsewhere. On Ji was lucky in that sense. She wasn't high-born, she was merely - as the Sages had pronounced - 'pretty'.

The one creative outlet that had been allowed in her village was cooking, mostly because the military benefited greatly from the women baking delectable dinners and mouth-watering desserts. So that's what On Ji did, as many others did as well. Whenever she started to feel frustrated by the inability to be a carefree young girl or her own person, she slipped away to the kitchens. There were far fewer eyes in there, allowing her the only moments of whimsy she could remember.

And, well, she didn't spend her time doing nothing.

Slowly but surely, On Ji had honed her cooking skills. It was a feather in her cap when she wrote her application for the Prince's Choice. Whatever Zuko was craving, she could make it, she promised. She had a knack for flavors and loved trying new recipes, as well as cooking Fire Nation classics.

Many girls had written the same.

When the Sages came, everyone had cooked their favorite dish.

On Ji knew that without it, she would have never stood a chance of getting chosen. But in all, she had been an early and promising choice; a clear mothering archetype, someone who could labor in the kitchen (but wouldn't need to, spirits. Didn't she know they had maids for that?) It was all a facade; she realized it all now. Everything with the Choice; it was all just so fake.

The most real thing about it was how much Zuko loved Katara.

As she pushed up her sleeves and began kneading a sweet dough, she wondered what would have happened if some other girl had cooked better than she. If she'd been sick, or off her game that morning, and her neighbor or the girl she sat with in history class or the girl who tripped her when she was ten had done a better job? What if she was still back in the Colonies?

You know what would have happened. You would have believed every stupid fucking lie they were feeding you about Zuko and what happened with Ozai. You would worship the ground Azula walked on. You'd call Katara the worst things you could think of - things no person should say about another. You'd believe it all like a stupid calf, whispering about how dishonorable the former Prince was…

…And you'd probably hate the girl who went instead of you, for being so dumb to abscond with him, knowing she wasn't even his chosen wife.

The realization washed over her swiftly. It was a cold one, something that had her staring down into the dough, biting her lip to keep from crying. What were the girls at home saying about her? What would they say to her face, or behind her back, when she returned?

Who says you get to go home again, On Ji?

She tried to tell herself she didn't even want that. She wanted adventure. She wanted to explore; to eat everywhere she could, and cook their food in turn. But it was easy to want all that when you could always turn in the towel and slither back to your roots, wasn't it?

She took her anger out on the dough.

Whenever she was feeling upset, she came in here.

So…On Ji was in here a lot.

By the time her treats were in the oven, she had been awake for hours already. She sat on an uneven chair, sipping tea, watching the rolls rise with a tiredness that was from more than just getting up insanely early.

She was tired of this war and it had hardly begun.

Mechanically, she took her tray out of the oven at precisely the right time, having long ago perfected this recipe, and set it by a window. The morning breeze came right through and started to cool her food, and On Ji found herself staring out the window.

Agni, she wished she was an Airbender. Or a Firebender. At least then she'd be useful and have a bigger meaning. Something that would have made Zuko notice her, not overlook her until she was accidental collateral.

But no, she was just plain On Ji. Forgettable to a fault.

"My, you look like you could use coffee." A gentle laugh startled her. On Ji nearly fell off her chair, stumbling into a genuflect.

"Fire Lady!" she greeted.

"Oh, none of that here. We're not confined to the strictness of the Palace anymore, and I'm not the Fire Lady either." Ursa said softly.

"You'll always be to me," On Ji whispered respectfully. She'd almost never had a one-on-one conversation with Ursa. She sometimes wondered if Ursa even remembered she was a contestant.

"Ah, blueberry scones!" Ursa said, gasping, her eyes lighting with joy, "May I have one?"

On Ji gave a jerky nod. "They're…hot…" she whispered awkwardly but Ursa seemed not to mind.

Ursa took a small nibble, and gasped, covering her lips. "Oh, On Ji, these are delicious! How I do love them!"

On Ji frowned, "I…I thought that lemon bars were your favorites?" Her mother had ensured that On Ji knew all the family's favorite treats, hoping that she would win their hearts through their stomachs. So she'd toiled for weeks without sleep after being accepted, learning everyone's best dishes - both savory and sweet. At once, she pulled out the mental list that had been tacked to her kitchen for weeks, trying to recall.

Zuko; sizzle-crisps and mochi

Iroh; roast duck and fruit tart

Lady Ursa; super-spicy souffle and lemon bars...

Maybe she'd been wrong? Maybe her mother had gotten faulty information?

Maybe if you had known, you could have won…

It was a foolish thought, but On Ji couldn't help to think it anyway. Maybe if she'd made Ursa scones upon her arrival, proving that she knew the family best from the start, she could have had a better beginning and gained more alone time with Zuko, and in turn, he could have gotten to know her better, and maybe…

Maybe nothing, On Ji. Nothing at all.

"You've been reading up?" Ursa asked, a hint of laughter in her eyes, "Lemon bars are. I do hold a certain fondness for blueberry scones, though, even if I do not personally adore their taste. However, the ones you make perhaps will change my mind."

"I feel I don't understand."

"One of the ladies in the Choice with me…they were her favorites. And whenever I eat one, I can hear her voice…her laughter…and I remember all the moments I hold so dear. She ate scones by the pound…the poor kitchen maids had their hands full! And she got all of us on it too…" Ursa broke apart the scone and stared down, chuckling to herself, "And I know she would just simply die if she tasted yours."

On Ji let herself beam. It was high praise from Ursa. She knew she should be proud.

"You really miss them, don't you?" On Ji sat back on her chair. "Fire Lady Ursa…can I ask an…indelicate question?"

"You may ask me anything."

"Are you so close to them because Ozai was such a bad husband?"

"It seems foolish to say, but at the time of my Choice, I did not think of them much at all," Ursa admitted after a moment. "I thought they would fade in my memory and be lost to time. And of course, certain moments are still bright for me; the birth of my children, the day I was crowned Fire Lady, all the good I've done…but those memories still burn as brightly as the day they happened."

"I just…" On Ji swallowed, "The other girls seem so close. I feel forgotten sometimes. I think they don't even think about me," she admitted quietly.

"I'm sure that's not true," Ursa assured, "If it were a normal Choice, naturally, you wouldn't be close with absolutely everyone, but if you think there are girls out there who don't love you for you, you don't see yourself as I see you."

On Ji frowned, "Which is how?"

"A kind girl who brightens spirits with her food. You have a rare gift, On Ji. I would not think so lowly of it…" Ursa smiled, "Whenever a girl left, I would ache for their presence. And, even if you are not the best of friends, no one will understand this experience the way the other girls here will. I cannot fully empathize with what you all have gone through. I think you will find that your time in the Temple will link you with Mai and Suki and Besu and everyone else in ways you cannot even describe. One day, when all of this has blown over, you will all get together with your children, maybe at Ember Island, and laugh, and their children will call you all Auntie."

"Do you think we'll make it there?" On Ji asked, "Honest?"

"I have great faith in my family," Ursa said simply.

There was a moment. On Ji sat, digesting her words. Just as Ursa turned to leave, On Ji found her voice, "Do you worry about them? Out there? With all this going on?"

Ursa turned, "The girls I love dearly are far stronger than Ozai would have ever guessed. But, if you don't think I didn't assure each one I held dear wasn't safe right when this all started, well...one day, you'll understand."

"They're all fine?" On Ji asked, perhaps needing to hear it, as though it would be an omen for their struggles.

"They outsmarted Ozai and made out with their lives and rich matches," Ursa said gently, "They weathered that storm and I am confident they will weather this one too."

XXX

There wasn't much decoration for the Holiday of Guilts. Katara had not been able to glean whether it was because there was never much to begin with, or because it had been lost when they fled, and it brought up a deeper guilt to even think about asking her parents and Bato.

Either way, it didn't matter. It seemed only those her parents' age and older had any recollection of this holiday, so they could have told most of the population anything about its history and most would be inclined to believe it.

It was also not a Northern Holiday; Eva seemed just as confused when Toph brought it up.

"Is it because the North is just guilt-free?" Toph asked sarcastically.

"Probably because it would mean having to be better if they actually acknowledged anything," Navi hissed angrily, shaking her head.

Eva put a hand on her wife's shoulder. "We are so lucky to have found the South here. I don't think I could bear to give up all my Water Tribe traditions. Perhaps in time, when Zuko has won the war, the North can learn again."

Katara glanced back at Zuko, who just stared at the ground.

His admission a few nights ago swam in her head.

What if we never went back?

The question was pressing upon her more often than not lately. She couldn't help it; whenever she helped her mother and the other women braid baskets, or helped Bato carve what they hunted for dinner, or sat with her father and bounced ideas off each other to better their tribe, she was struck with the sense of being a ghost here; that one day she'd leave again, and who knows what would happen then? It was an uncomfortable feeling. The idea she couldn't truly be in the present, always dreading the future.

And in the midst of it, Zuko's quiet words would bob to the surface. A solution.

They could just…stay.

If they never returned, everyone would simply think their suicide mission was fulfilled. Others would fight this war. Hadn't they done enough? Didn't they deserve something softer, a certain peace?

Toph had no lost love for the Earth Kingdom and could likely be persuaded. She knew Sokka agonized over leaving too. What if Katara just pitched the idea of remaining?

But whenever she even began to vocalize it to anyone but Zuko, a heavy, dark hand would wrap around her stomach and squeeze and she'd start to feel ill.

So she hadn't said anything.

The decorations were sparse; a few pelts hung, painted by the best they had. Some sprigs of non-essential plants to make the space feel more lively. Some rocks of interest, dotting a pathway to the steam huts they built on the far side of camp.

The entire town turned out. It was not necessary to attend, but from Katara's count, it seemed everyone was well aware of the help this ceremony would lend.

Sokka had spent time carving animal figures into chips of wood, enough for everyone in attendance. They had constructed a splattering of tents, each able to fit between ten to fifteen people.

"You'll take your animal token and go into the steam hut with the others that also match yours," Sokka explained, jingling the bag.

"And no switching chips," Hakoda added sternly, "You were placed with the others in your group for a reason, one that we would be arrogant to rebuff. The spirits will put us with who we need."

"Let's wait to see what chip you all have until the end," Kya suggested, "Just palm it and step aside."

Katara was mid-line with Zuko and they shuffled forward. She pushed her hand into the leather bag. The chips clinked around her fingers. She didn't think too hard about it, closed her fist around one, and moved to the growing crowd. Zuko fished longer than she did, moving his hands around the bag.

When he finally took one, he sent her a soft smile.

The entire process took less time than Katara had thought it would.

Those in charge - her parents, Bato - and Sokka took the remaining few. Hakokda handed them out amongst the three. He'd been very firm that they would all participate; he wouldn't ask his tribe to participate in anything he would not also do.

She wondered what guilt her parents had. She hoped she wasn't in the same hut with them…there were some things in this world she didn't need to know.

"Okay, let's all look and find your groups! We'll be sending you into your huts soon." Hakoda said.

Everyone unfurled their fingers.

Confusion rose immediately.

"Is this a fish or a boar?"

"Do we have the same ones? I can't tell!"

"I have a bear-platypus…or…maybe just a bear?"

Katara looked at her chip and squinted.

"What do I have?" Toph asked, "My fingers can't tell."

Katara took her and Toph's chip together.

"Uhm…I'm not entirely sure, but I think ours are the same. Maybe a…seal?"

Toph grinned, "Sweet!"

Zuko was staring at his chip like it was written in Old Earthian. He moved it a full circle, looking at it from each angle, before finally shooting Katara a helpless look.

Kilee peered over his shoulder, "Erm…a duck?"

By this time, Sokka was at the front, hotly defending his art.

"It's clearly a buffalo!" he was huffing, using a stick to draw in the sand, "See? Horns!"

"Ooh!" A tribesperson was saying, "I thought it was tentacles! Like an octopus turtle."

Sokka scoffed, "No. Obviously!"

Haokda cleared his throat. He had such a presence that the room quieted immediately.

"There seems to, ah, have been some confusion about the tiles and what they are. So, please, do your best to…match shapes and we'll make sure you'll all sorted."

"Did I hear you have the gelatinous seal?" Navi asked, coming to join them with Eva.

"You got the same?" Katara asked, snickering to herself.

"No, but I think Eva did." Navi handed off her chip.

Katara examined the three she had - now Eva's, hers, and Toph's.

"Sure looks the same," she agreed, "Where are you sorted?"

"Sea slug?" Navi shrugged, showing a chip with an inelegant squiggle.

People were starting to form little groups at this point. It only took minor adjustments from Sokka and Hakoda to place wayward people. Once people stopped trying to decipher what Sokka had drawn, it was easier to find the sets. Still, there was a sense of merriment guessing what they all had.

"Look at all the fun you brought!" Katara told Sokka when he came over, red in the face, informing Katara they were meant to have an owl-cat on theirs.

"It's clear as day!" Sokka was near foaming at the mouth, "How can you not tell that's an owl-cat, Katara?"

"I think it looks perfect!" Eva said with a grin. It took Sokka a moment.

"I'd expect that from her," he pointed to Toph, "But you, Eva? Low," he said, only half offended.

Zuko was in a group with Kilee and Maiha's father, and a whole lot of others he didn't know well. He looked only mildly uncomfortable, or maybe he was ready for any solution.

They were all handed a scrap of paper and ink and told to keep their guilts hidden for a moment, wrapping it around their chip. Then, once they were ready, they headed into the hut.

It was already steamy.

Katara inhaled the hot air, sweat already beading on her forehead.

They all shuffled to the low seats, getting comfortable.

"What now?" Toph asked, starting to unbutton her parka, "It's hot in here! Wow."

"That's the point," Eva said, "I think."

"We go around and share our guilts," Katara said quietly, "And we all agree this is a space where it stays here…no need to run and share gossip. It's a sacred space." Luckily, there were nods all around. "And after you speak, you throw your chip and your paper into the fire in the center. And let your guilt burn away, and the spirits hear it. Then, if anyone has solutions, they may offer them. They can also come to us during the party afterward. If there are no solutions, just offer your kindness."

She glanced around, "Who first?"

There was a general slowness, a worry, a sense of hesitation. Finally, a woman raised her hand.

"I worry I am not a good enough mother. I do everything I can for my kids, and somehow, it's still not enough…"

And so it began.

Katara let herself ease into the steam, trying to do her best to offer realistic solutions as often as she could. Some of her people's guilts were deep and ugly and sticky; there wasn't an easy answer to all of them. Sometimes, in fact, the best they could offer was just the sentiment that no one here was alone. You didn't have to take it all on yourself.

Eva talked about the guilt of leaving her family. She knew they would never understand her choices, or why she loved Navi, but they were never unkind to her, and she felt guilty for leaving without so much of a goodbye. She talked about how she felt guilty for putting Navi through what she had; she hadn't always lived loving women, as Navi had. She worried that sometimes Navi was frustrated by her inexperience or hesitation. She talked about the guilt that she'd given Navi for expressing her desire for children one day, realizing too late that this was nothing Navi could give her.

"Have you ever considered adoption?" Toph asked, "It's common in the Earth Kingdom."

"I suppose, in a sense…the Water Tribes have a very communal sense of living, so any children that are unwanted or lose their parents are absorbed into the tribe with grandparents and aunts or uncles. I suppose I should be glad," Eva said, tugging on her hair, "That no child here goes unwanted…I wish Navi could see I just want her. I don't need children."

"It's okay to still desire them, though," someone else pointed out, "You're allowed to want that."

"We are at the start of a war. Who knows how many children will need loving parents?" Someone else said, "And would be so glad to have two people that wanted them so badly."

Still, Eva seemed unconvinced.

"You want biological children," Katara realized. Eva gave a sad smile.

"And I feel guilty for having such desires."

"You are young," an elder in their hut finally said, "And there is much time for all this to be worked out. I know this may not seem much of a comfort, but it is. It is hard to imagine how the universe will reveal itself to you when the path upwards seems unchartable."

They'd been moving in a circle. Toph was next to Eva, sweating profusely.

"You all don't play around with this heat, huh?" she asked, wiping her forehead, "Whew…"

"Toph," Katara said quietly, nudging her.

"I think others can go first," Toph said quickly. She'd never been one to open up, and this was no exception.

"We can wait for you until you're ready," the elder said, "Silence is nice."

"You'll be waiting a long time, then," Toph muttered under her breath, so only Katara could hear. Katara did not think she meant to be rude, but she was uncomfortable.

So they sat in silence. And as the elder said, it was a beautiful silence.

Finally, Toph sighed.

"Just because I'm dying and I need to get outta here soon," she mumbled. She rolled her shoulders, "I'm worried…" She winced, biting her jaw. "I'm worried…oh, fuck," she groaned, "I'm worried that I can never be who Sokka needs, kay?"

"Sokka loves you, it's so clear," Katara said gently.

"That's not a question, duh. But if he comes back to be the person he needs to be here - and I would never get angry at him for deciding that - I don't think he can…take me?"

"But you can see down here, can you not?" someone else asked, confused.

"Yeah, but Sokka needs someone…Southern. He needs someone who can see danger, who can hunt, who can fish with him. I can't get on a canoe at all! And maybe you all would prefer he has a wife from the Water Tribe to give him pure-blooded kids? And I'd drag him away; I'd want to return to the Earth Kingdom and he'd go with and it's not fair to him! I've grown up tied to duty all my life, and it's so…fucking funny that I fall for someone who I would be angry if he ignored that duty, but it means leaving me behind…" She curled her legs in on herself, angrily throwing the chip to the middle, onto the fire. "I'm always left behind…"

"Sokka wouldn't break up with you," Eva said, eyebrows knitting in worry.

"He won't, of course he won't. But I'm not right for him and I hate that I know that!" Toph threw her hands out, "But I'm so selfish. I don't want to break up with him either, but it would be easier, wouldn't it? To just cut the cord now-"

"He'd be heartbroken," Katara said, gasping sharply, hurting for her brother at the thought.

"But he'd heal. And he'd find someone else…" Toph rubbed her fists over her eyes. "It's not…crying…it's just stupid steam."

And everyone pretended they believed her.

"You have been such a help, Toph," one of the tribespeople spoke, "And have done more for us than we could ever repay. The world is changing and we are opening ourselves to new horizons…if Sokka wanted to marry you, I'd gladly be the first to welcome you. I don't think you'd be a bad choice at all."

But, from the faces, it seemed not all agreed.

Katara hoped Toph was so sweaty she couldn't feel it…because everyone else's side glances would break her heart.

There were three more people before they reached Katara; the break in the line, the last person to go.

She had all this time to prepare her words, but when it came time, she still found herself floundering to be understood.

Her guilts were multiple and many; guilt for leaving Aang to fight this war, guilt for putting her family first, guilt for falling for Zuko and putting them in danger, guilt for not returning sooner, and guilt for being so unsure where her next steps were meant to be. And there were hundreds of other tinier guilt that pricked her mind, but they did not have time for all of them.

A few warm, loved words of encouragement were sent her way, but once again, hers was an issue that was not so easily solved by offering a hand to watch children or to repair a crumbling wall.

When she stepped out into the chillness of the camp outside the huts, she gasped, inhaling the sharp air down into her lungs. The water on her cheeks began to crystalize; a salty mix of steam from the hut and tears - for the woes of her people and the woes of her own troubles. As she shielded her eyes from the light reflecting off the glaciers, she felt…lighter. Her troubles were not completely assuaged, but handing off pieces to her people helped everyone carry it together.

Food had already been put out, and her people were indulging. The ultimate comfort food was on display, meant to soothe their souls. Katara could see a few huts still in the process. She could also tell whenever someone threw their chip in the fires; the smoke from the tops would spark and change colors, something so unexpectedly beautiful about the theoretical idea of their troubles being sent to the spirits above in colorful gusts of wind.

Zuko was already out; laughing with a few tribal members, partaking in a slow-roasted glazed snow-buffalo. Katara's mouth watered even catching a whiff of it. She wanted to give Zuko this moment when he seemed so unburdened and accepted (and spirits, she wondered if people had the same nasty feelings about Zuko as her future husband as they did the idea of Toph and Sokka?) but her growling stomach couldn't keep her away.

"You're sweating, Katara," Zuko teased. He seemed to be in much higher spirits than he had in a very long time.

"Well, we can't all be from the Fire Nation," Katara rolled her eyes, noticing there wasn't a stitch of perspiration on him.

"He just…absorbed the heat! It was crazy!" A person next to Zuko said, eyes full of admiration, "Even I was glad to get out of those temperatures."

"I feel a bit bad. I liked the idea of sweating out my sins," Zuko said teasingly.

"I think we sweat enough for three of you," Another person huffed with a chuckle.

Zuko gently touched Katara's arm, leading her away to talk in private. He noticed her eyeing his plate and held it out.

"How did it go?" she asked, ignoring his offering, seeking to gauge his emotions.

"Katara, it was incredible!" he said earnestly, "Everyone helping one another, the communal feeling of union, the genuine kindness…I literally don't think the Fire Nation could figure out how to do that even if you spelled it out for them. It's just so different, I guess. Coming to a place where everyone is in it for the group, not themselves."

"I hope you didn't feel…left out of giving advice." The exchange of help was just as important, Katara had realized. That you gave something of yourself so that later someone else would give their aid to you.

"I suppose in certain situations, I kept quiet. Ones that felt more…historic. Traditional. But with all those from the Northern Water Tribe, and people with just issues that everyone deals with, I think…I think I was able to help." He gave a wistful smile. "I just channeled Iroh and thought about what advice he would give."

"So you told people to drink tea?" Katara asked, realizing how badly she missed Iroh at this moment.

Zuko laughed out loud, "Yeah, I guess I did?"

She paused, inhaling hard. "And…yours?" She was almost afraid to ask, either that it would put him in a sour mood or that no solutions had been found. She didn't know what she'd do if she suddenly couldn't waterbend.

"There were actually a few solutions," Zuko said, his tone turning serious, but not upset, "I got some really good meditation rhythms from some people that are worth trying. Someone asked about Kuzon, well, Aang. That perhaps as the Avatar he could do something. I guess I didn't want to bother him, but Kilee pointed out he's my brother, of course, he would help me. I suppose I've been thinking of him as this…high figure, the Avatar, since the coup. But do you remember Maiha?"

"Of course I do," Katara said, "She was in your tent?"

"Her father was. We also had a good closure about sending his daughter to be a choice for my wife and me not picking her. But he moved to the Fire Nation as an adult, and he told me about…a legend he'd heard. He suggested perhaps that I may make a pilgrimage to the remains of where Firebending originated, with the dragons. There's an old city that's long abandoned, but…I dunno, he seemed to have gotten the impression that…well, maybe there's spirits still lingering there."

"That sounds amazing! Where is it?" Katara asked.

Zuko sighed, wincing. "The Fire Nation."

Katara swallowed, "I imagine your fire is important to you, Zuko," she said, trying not to jump into fear or anger.

"It is. But I have no intention of running off. Perhaps I need to be alone with just Zuko the non-bender for a while, too," he added with a sad smile, "And make peace with it so that if it's a bust, I'm not so upset. I think I need to be expecting nothing when I go."

Katara nodded uneasily. "Alright…" she agreed softly. The idea of leaving here and going to the Fire Nation, no less, sent her stomach dropping and turning to stone.

"What about yours?" Zuko asked.

Katara was about to answer that nothing of consequence was said, but she was okay with that when she saw Eva moving toward her.

"Oh, Katara!" Eva said, "Have you tried the glazed buffalo yet? It's to die for!"

"Not yet," Katara said.

Eva laughed, "I didn't interrupt you just to ask about food, though Kilee might have. No, sorry, I had a thought in the hut, but I didn't want to say it in front of everyone, in case you didn't want me to."

Katara turned, interested, "About me?"

Eva nodded enthusiastically, "Yes!"

Katara shrugged; any offer was better than the not much she'd gotten. "Sure."

"So, and please don't laugh, but I think I've been having prophetic dreams lately." She paused, as though expecting derision from Katara. And once, perhaps she would have gotten it. The idea of an Oracle had once made her scoff. But after living as a reincarnation, and everything she'd seen and done while away, she was slower to judge than before.

When Katara did not say anything, Eva continued.

"I dreamed of a journey, laborious but worth it. And the stars above me. And the spirits! Not the spirits of Tui and La, but of animals, all silvery, bounding around me!" she said, excited to share.

"You see things in your dreams?" Zuko asked. They'd questioned Toph about it once. Toph said she just dreamed in noises, same as ever. She had no reference to see, so it would be silly of her to do so.

"Well, I went blind later, of course," Eva said, unbothered, but Zuko immediately stiffened.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," he said, eyes wide, "I didn't mean-"

"Zuko, me going blind was the best thing that ever happened to me. I found the love of my life, I found community, and I found happiness," she insisted, "Everything happened as it was meant to."

"I'm glad you're able to see it - no, not see it," Zuko stumbled, panicked, "Understand it so well-"

"Really, it's okay," Eva laughed. "But Katara, don't you see? I was dreaming of a Totem Walk!"

"I thought the North didn't participate?" Katara asked, recalling Yue's mild indifference to it when she'd shared with the ladies, so long ago.

"That's just it! Because it's not me, it's you!" Eva said, grabbing Katara's hands. "I have found my spiritual solace. You are still deep in it, Katara. Fractured, pulled in so many different places. I sincerely think that finding your spirit animal will ground you, and give you perspective."

Katara floundered, "I mean, we haven't done those here since…since my father was a child." She swallowed. "And it's a bad time, I mean. Maybe after the war-"

"No, Katara, it needs to be now. I feel it in my dreams. It's a necessity," Eva said. "I know you feel like you cannot leave us, which is why you must."

"I'm up for an adventure," Zuko said with a grin.

Eva turned to him, "It is something she must do alone, or else, it will not work."

Katara played with her hem, swallowing her spiking emotions.

In truth, since going to the palace, she hadn't…properly been away from Zuko. Yes, perhaps for short trips, but not…not in this way. Not in the way the loneliness would cocoon her, be her only friend. Not in the way that she did not have a return, not until Tui and La chose to offer her her spirit.

Not until it was complete.

"Please, do not say no now," Eva said, "And think about it. Your father has already agreed to gather materials if you wish to go."

"My father…" Katara said, rather faintly.

"He confers with me about any dreams I have. He agrees with me that it must be about you. There were other signs, ones that you would surely laugh at, but I knew it was you and he came to the same conclusion. Consider it," she urged.

Katara looked at Zuko, aghast. "Our wedding," she whispered quietly.

"Katara," Zuko grasped her shoulders, "I will still be here when you return. I could only ever wish for something so firm, such wisdom to be granted to me by the spirits. I don't want to sway you, but I think you should."

"Will you be okay here by yourself?" Katara asked, wiping a tear away, realizing how much she did yearn for this. Behind all that worry and fear, there was excitement. She used to play out this scenario as a child; reinstating this tradition, being the first since her father.

She tried to grasp that childlike excitement and focus on that.

"Of course I will!" Zuko said, almost surprised she would ask. "I don't know what I'll do here while you're gone, but I'm sure your parents will put me to good use," he grinned.

Katara swallowed, "Alright…" She looked at Eva, "When do you think I should go?"

"Tonight is clear," Eva said, glancing up, though it was more for old habits dying hard. "Though I do have prophetic dreams, I cannot guess the weather. Tomorrow may be frigid and cold and blizzarding and a worse time to leave off."

"Alright," Katara agreed. If she waited, she may psyche herself out of it. She was still nervous.

"You won't regret this," Eva said.

Katara offered a watery smile. "Prophetic dreams?"

"No," Eva said, "But I am certain of a few things in this universe, and this is one of them."