Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away, out at sea, aboard a small sailboat, Ikari stared in confusion at a crumpled, slightly damp map. "Ugh... I'm really awful at sailing," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck with a frustrated expression.
The ocean breeze tousled his black hair, and the waves lapped gently against the hull, but the horizon stubbornly remained empty.
He should've reached the Southern Water Tribe hours ago, but without even a glimpse of land in sight, Ikari realized he wasn't just a little lost — he was completely lost.
***
The Sun hovered high in the sky, casting a silvery light over a small village of the Southern Water Tribe. The few tents and igloos that stood there glimmered softly, reflecting the shine of the ice that covered the entire ground. The air was bitterly cold, filled with the salty scent of the sea and the distant sound of waves crashing against the icebergs.
In the center of the village, beside a large bonfire, a group of children sat in a circle, laughing and clapping while twelve-year-old Katara excitedly told a story, gesturing with her hands.
"-And then the bird flew so high it almost touched the stars!" Katara exclaimed, her blue eyes shining with joy as she saw how much the little ones were enjoying the tale. She stretched out her arms and began moving them up and down, pretending they were wings. The gesture sparked laughter, and some of the children even tried to imitate her, which led to even more giggles.
"How did the little bird not freeze up there, Katara?" asked a little girl with braids, her eyes wide with curiosity, more interested in the story than in laughing with the others.
Katara smiled. "Because the higher it went, the closer it got to the Sun." She was almost sure that wasn't really how it worked, but the children didn't need to know that.
"Argh!"
The moment was broken by a loud grumble, heavy with frustration. Thirteen-year-old Sokka appeared at the entrance of the village, his face twisted into a grimace that seemed too large for his skinny body. In his right hand, he gripped a spear with disproportionate force; in his left, an empty bucket. His boots left deep marks in the ice, as if he were taking out all his dissatisfaction on the ground.
"Nothing!" he complained as soon as he approached the group, tossing the spear into a pile of snow. The weapon stuck there, vibrating slightly. "Again!"
The children exchanged glances, wondering what he was talking about, but Katara sighed, already knowing what it was about. "What happened, Sokka?" she asked anyway, crossing her arms over her parka. When her brother was like this, the best way to handle it was always to let him vent.
"What happened?! What happened is that I spent the entire day standing on that stupid ice, waiting, freezing, and guess what? I didn't catch a single lousy fish!" Sokka flailed his arms dramatically, making his fur hood slip off his head and reveal his messy dark brown hair. "Those fish are laughing at me, Katara! I'm sure of it! I think they know who I am and run away on purpose!"
One of the older children, a six-year-old boy, couldn't hold back a loud, shrill laugh. "Maybe you're scaring them away with that ugly face, Sokka!" The comment was like a spark, igniting a chorus of giggles among the children. Even Katara bit her lip to hide a smile.
Sokka turned to the boy, pointing an accusing finger. "You, brat, don't understand the weight of being the man of the village! While you sit around all day, I'm out there trying to make sure we don't starve!" He huffed, crossed his arms, and dropped onto a nearby ice bench, which only made the children laugh harder. "Let's see you keep laughing when I start training you in a few years..." he muttered quietly, pouting.
Katara rolled her eyes and walked over to him, sitting down at his side. "Sokka, you need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. All of us are working together to keep things running around here. And look, nobody is starving. Gran-Gran said we have supplies for several more months." She gave his shoulder a gentle pat, trying to cheer him up.
Sokka huffed again. "Easy for you to say, Katara. You women only have to worry about the present and simple things, like taking care of the children and cooking. I'm the one who has to worry about the future and deal with the things that really matter!" he said, thumping his chest.
A sudden silence fell over everyone. The children stopped laughing, their wide eyes shifting between Sokka and Katara. Katara herself froze for a moment, staring at her brother with a neutral expression, until a flush of anger spread across her face. She stood up abruptly from the bench, hands on her hips and her voice sharp as an ice spear. "Only worry about the present and simple things?! Seriously, Sokka? You think taking care of the village, keeping everyone fed and organized is easy?!"
Sokka stood up as well, crossing his arms and raising his voice. "You don't understand what it means to be the man of the village, Katara. I carry all the responsibility while you sit around playing with the kids!"
Katara pointed her finger at Sokka. "Who do you think you are to talk about responsibility, huh?! You can't even sew your own pants!"
"Because that's women's work!"
"That's enough, both of you!" A firm voice cut through the air, interrupting the argument. A woman in her thirties, carrying a basket of clothes, hurried over to the group. "While you two fight like seals over a fish, a small boat is approaching the shore."
Katara and Sokka stopped, the argument instantly forgotten. The children around them, who had been watching the quarrel, stood up — some stretching their necks to try to see the horizon, others whispering among themselves, curious about who was coming and hoping it might be their fathers.
Katara frowned, exchanging a look with Sokka, who was already running to retrieve his spear. "A boat?" she asked, turning back to the woman, concern clear in her voice. "From the Fire Nation?"
"I don't know." The woman shook her head. "It's small — it doesn't look like a military vessel, nor one of ours."
"It can't be from the Fire Nation." Gran-Gran joined the conversation, approaching with the other women from the village, who quickly pulled their children close. The elder, her voice calm but heavy with experience, continued: "We no longer have anything that would interest them."
Katara bit her lip when she heard her grandmother's words, the memory of the attack from three years ago still painfully vivid in her mind. If something like that happened now, with none of the men around, they would be slaughtered — or worse.
"Maybe a merchant?" one of the women suggested, protectively holding her son's hand.
"We haven't seen merchants in years," Sokka said seriously, returning to them with his spear in hand. "And if it's not the Fire Nation, it could be bandits. Either way, we need to prepare. Everyone stays here. I'll go check it out."
"I'm going with you!" Katara exclaimed immediately, stepping toward him. If her brother was going to fight, she would be there to help him.
"No. You stay here and hide with the others," Sokka ordered, fixing her with one last look before running toward the shore.
Katara watched her brother's back as he disappeared into the distance, fear and dread taking hold of her. She turned to Gran-Gran with a lump in her throat, seeking guidance, but the elder simply shrugged. "I'm sure it's not as serious as your brother thinks. Let's see who these visitors are."
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.