"Katara!"
Katara ignored her brother and focused on the stranger, who watched the interaction with an amused smile. "You really met our father? Is he okay?"
The boy nodded. "Yes. Actually, I have letters here for all of you." He tapped the bag slung over his shoulder, making everyone's eyes light up.
***
A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the large central bonfire.
Katara held her father's letter with trembling hands, her eyes filled with tears as she read. The anger that burned in her chest over him leaving — for abandoning her and Sokka — still pulsed within her, but knowing that he was alive and well brought a relief she hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if an invisible weight had been briefly lifted, allowing her to breathe more easily.
Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, she looked around. The other women were just as moved — some clutching their children to their chests as they read their husbands' words aloud, others reading and crying silently. Even the children, usually so loud, were quiet, some with tears in their eyes.
Her gaze fell on Sokka, seated beside her. He was still holding his spear, ready to fight, but his eyes were fixed on his own letter, his hand gripping the paper as if he feared it might disappear. Katara knew him well enough to realize he had already read and reread those lines many times, memorizing every sentence.
At last, her eyes shifted to the person who had made all of that possible. He had said his name was Ikari, and now he was lying in the snow with his arms folded behind his head, a peaceful smile curving his lips. Combined with his closed eyes, he looked like the very definition of "completely at ease," as if the icy air of the South Pole were nothing more than a summer breeze. There was something hypnotizing about his calm, a confidence that seemed to challenge the world around him.
Katara began to watch him more closely. He was so different from Sokka. While her brother was — put simply — clumsy, with abrupt movements and expressions that shifted between frustration and stubbornness, Ikari exuded an almost magnetic tranquility.
'He seems so self-assured. Not like Sokka, who's always trying to prove something.' Katara didn't have many points of comparison — after all, Sokka was the only boy around her age that she truly knew — but there was something about Ikari that reminded her of the stories the village women told, laughing, about "heart thieves" who could enchant someone with nothing more than a smile.
"Figure anything out?" Sokka's voice, close to her ear, broke her train of thought so suddenly that Katara nearly jumped.
"W-what?" She turned to her brother, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
"I'm asking if you figured anything out. You keep staring at him." Sokka clarified, tilting his head toward Ikari.
Katara blushed deeply and looked away toward the fire. "I wasn't staring!" she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended.
Sokka scoffed, folding his letter carefully before tucking it into his tunic. "Tsk. It always falls on me," he muttered, rising with his spear in hand and striding toward Ikari with determined steps. "Hey, you there!" Sokka called out, suspicion weighing heavily in his tone. "Care to explain why the men of the village entrusted those letters to you? Are you some kind of messenger or what?"
"Sokka!" Gran-Gran cut in quickly, casting a stern look at her grandson. "Don't be rude to the young man!" She turned back to Ikari, softening her expression. "I apologize for my grandson. We're not used to receiving outsiders."
Ikari opened his eyes, the calm smile still resting on his lips, as though Sokka's attitude didn't bother him in the slightest. "It's all right, ma'am. Your grandson has every right to be cautious. We are at war, after all. It's only natural to mistrust even your own shadow."
Then he did something that seemed to make time itself stop in the village. With a subtle motion, a gust of air formed beneath him, lifting him off the ground as lightly as a feather. Ikari floated for a few seconds, the wind swirling gently around him, before landing gracefully and placing a hand on the shoulder of a completely stunned Sokka. "But you can lower your guard, Sokka. I would never hurt the family of my friends."
"Y-you… you just flew?!" Sokka exclaimed, snapping back to his senses and stepping back, eyes wide, his spear slipping from his fingers and sinking into the snow.
Katara wasn't much different, bringing a hand to her mouth as her heart raced. Had she really seen that? Was it an illusion? Was she dreaming? Because Ikari had just controlled the air, hadn't he? Only an airbender could do something like that! The thought felt impossible, straight out of the stories Gran-Gran used to tell about the Air Nomads, all wiped out generations ago. Yet there he was, real, defying everything she believed was possible.
Everyone around them was just as shocked. Except for the children, who, unaware of the weight of that revelation, burst with excitement when they saw him "fly." Some even ran toward Ikari, ignoring their mothers' attempts to hold them back. "How did you do that?" one little girl asked, her eyes shining. "Can I fly too?"
Ikari laughed, light and genuine, and gently ruffled her hair. "Of course you can. I'll teach you later."
Gran-Gran, who had remained frozen in shock until then, slowly rose to her feet. Her eyes were fixed on Ikari, wide with reverence and disbelief. "You… you're an airbender?"
Ikari tilted his head, surprised that there were still people in the world who didn't know about him. "You really are isolated out here, huh? Then let me introduce myself again. I'm Ikari, the last airbender… at least, as far as I know." He bowed his head in a humble gesture, a striking contrast to the weight of his words.
***
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.