(Zutara) Let Me Pretend; Your Soul is Winter Fire

Tales of Ba Sing Se: Katara

The moon had long set, yet Katara could not sleep. The space between moon rest and dawn was her best chance for deep sleep. The moon was tired after a long night guiding wayward souls to dawn, and so was she. Yue often guided Katara to her dreams, yet that night her cool touch could not reach her.

A different light was leading her, whether it was astray or not, Katara could not tell.

Blue was acting strange. She might not have much experience to go on, but he wasn't being himself. A month ago, she could have wandered into the Middle Ring and they'd find each other. An unspoken pull between them, always guiding them to Kwong's. To each other.

(If you listen hard enough, you can hear every living thing breathing together.)

Last night she had to make him promise to be at Kwong's when she came later. Two days in a row might be a risk with the Dai Li searching for the vigilante duo harassing Ba Sing Se's order. If anything, that made her need to see him more. See him and convince him to come to the Upper Ring with her, hide out from the Dai Li where they won't think to look. There's room in the guest house. Aang and Sokka would definitely like him.

Katara rolled over and buried her face under her pillow. When would she grow out of this incessant need to fix everyone's problems? Blue lived in Ba Sing Se before she got here, he'll stay when she goes.

That thought hurt, and she'd had enough experience with that particular pain to know her healing waters couldn't soothe it.

Two times in one year, she thinks ruefully to herself. Katara, you sure know how to pick them.

~ ~ ~

Three Months Previously: The Swamp

They told him. They told him. They told him. But would Sokka listen? Of course not. Katara swears if she ever finds her way out of this swamp, and her idiot brother cites his instincts again, she's going to freeze his hands behind his back so he can't do anymore damage with that ego and dumb machete of his. Aang is humanities link to the spirit world. If he says a swamp can have feelings and they should respect them, Katara doesn't think it a silly, superstitious notion to listen.

You couldn't tell the sun was starting rise. Trees pack, dense and pressed together, on all sides. Their vines crisscross above Katara's head like a nest of snakes, blocking much of the morning sun filtering through. She tries to keep to those spots of light, shivering as the sun warms her neck, travels down her spine, and hits the muggy, chill water surrounding her shins.

Spirits, she prays without really thinking, Tui and La, help me find my friends. Then, in case they need reminding. "Aang! Sokka! Where are you?"

~ ~ ~

Tales of Ba Sing Se: Katara

"Aang, where's my axe? If you used it to make more reed pipes-"

"I listened when you told me not to do that, Sokka. It's by Momo's sleep perch. His winter fur is falling out, so I helped him shed with it."

"That's worse!"

"Hey, Dunderheads, some of us are still trying to sleep!"

"Like you can tell one plain of darkness from another."

"Watch it, Blunderang, I make the blind jokes. Stick to making fun of everything else."

"She's right, Sokka, that one was in bad taste."

Katara wasn't aware she'd fallen asleep until the morning's cacophony blasted through her bedroom door. She must have dozed off and been really out if Toph was up before her.