She moves with the tide: her foot slides over the sand, her waist turns with the next wave, her hands bring forth mist and foam. Her eyes are closed, the ocean is around her, the water is inside her, around her, everywhere. This is who she is, who she has been.
"If you even think of using that water on me, Anming, you have something else coming," she says, her eyes still closed.
She hears the water falling down, the sounds of her youngest shuffling a bit.
"Sorry, mama," her girl says.
Katara grins, turns around, turns with the water and picks her daughter up, laughing, happy, alive.
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"If you even think of using that water on me, Anming, you have something else coming," she says, her eyes still closed.
She hears the water falling down, the sounds of her youngest shuffling a bit.
"Sorry, mama," her girl says.
Katara grins, turns around, turns with the water and picks her daughter up, laughing, happy, alive.
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