(no subject)
Title: The Fall Winds
Recipient: Zumie
Rating: PG-13 (Some very brief violence; also character injury, and a very lightly detailed description of a (tiger) seal being butchered. I'm kind of rating on the safe side here, I guess.)
Characters/Pairings: Primarily Katara and Kya, though Jinora, Pema, Bumi (non-bender), and Aang make brief appearances. Also includes two non-established characters in a parallel story.
Summary: After Pema stops Kya from retelling an old Southern Water Tribe story that gives Jinora nightmares, Kya instead recounts a hunting trip taken by a mother and daughter many years earlier.
Notes: The parallel narrative in this is adapted from the story of the Inuit religious figure sometimes known as Sedna. There are many different versions of her story, though the climactic moment tends to be the same. I adapted it in a way I felt would work for the Southern Water Tribe. Because it was adapted, and because I think canon may have already made a reference to Sedna by naming Korra's mother Senna (which is closer to the phonetic pronunciation), I chose to give her a different name. Aliqa is taken from the Inuktun word for older sister.
Also, the song about the polar dog afraid of its own name was inspired by the Inuit dog spirit Qiqirn.
"A long time ago, when our ancestors first came to the South -"
At this, Pema interrupted.
"Oh, please Kya, not that one."
Jinora looked up and around to her mother, who set a large basket of freshly washed orange robes and white tunics onto the ground, and began pinning them up along the fluttering clothesline. Kya brushed her hair out of her face, looking between them, and Jinora protested, "But Mom -"
"Really, Jinora." A particularly strong gust of wind came off the waterline, nearly snagging the shirt Pema was hanging out of her hands. "Every time you ask Aunt Kya for that story, and every night after you come into our room saying you've had nightmares about your hands breaking off or your fingers bursting into elephant rats or - whatever."
Jinora folded her arms and frowned as her mother spoke, before her eyes turned back to Kya. But her aunt was already watching her, and to Jinora's great annoyance, she was smiling.
"Maybe it is time for a different story," Kya suggested, her voice quiet. Jinora opened her mouth to protest, but Kya raised her hand. "Come on, I know you like that one, but if you only want to hear it, how will you find anything new?"
(Pema would later find these to be the words Jinora most took to heart from this afternoon.)
Kya looked up, blue eyes on the clouded horizon. "How about one only I can tell?"
Jinora's head tilted. "How come only you can tell it?"
"Because I'm the only one who knows it, and I've never told it to anyone else." She looked back down to her niece. "But after I've told you, you'll know how to tell it, too."
Jinora considered this offer, glancing over Kya's shoulder to see if her mother was watching. Her mother only seemed interested in a long white sheet she was pinning to the clothesline; Jinora's eyes returned to her aunt, and she nodded.
"All right then, come over here." Jinora obediently moved to the rock Kya was sitting against, resting her head on her aunt's shoulder, tucked precisely under her arm. Kya moved her arm around Jinora, and leaned her head back against the rock, looking up at the sky.
"There was a girl, not that much older than you, who didn't want to be afraid of anything. The problem was, whether we like it or not, there are always things that scare us…"
-
A long time ago, when our ancestors first came to the South Pole, there were no fish or seal or sea crabs in the waters near land, only the fish and whales in the distant sea. In order to survive, the first of our tribe had to travel a great distance, to the ice where it was impossible to settle, and go out to sea, where fish and whales could be caught and collected. Because not everyone could be spared to make the trip, those in the first village established a rule that each family would take its turn to hunt, and bring back the food the village needed.
-
Kya practiced her knots again. Overhand, over-under-over, pull, tighten, for a strong bowline. Then she undid it, and twisted the rope into another knot, loops fanning out like butterfly wings. Her fingers were freezing, but she stubbornly continued, the only light coming from an oil lamp sitting in the snow next to her. Her mother had insisted that they had to leave early, though now with their bag packed and ready next to Kya, she was still inside. Kya could hear enough to know that her mother and father were talking, but not enough to tell if they were arguing, and that's what was taking so long.
"I can do it faster."
Kya didn't look up from her knots. "Shut up, Bumi."
Her brother sprang into the lamplight, grabbing one loop in her knot and pulling it out. The knot slipped undone, leaving a simple length of rope between them. Kya dropped it, jumping to her feet.
"I said shut up!"
Three icicles along the roof of the house behind them fell and smashed at her words, but this only seemed delight Bumi further, as he tumbled back on the snow, roaring with laughter. Kya heard footsteps from inside the house, before the door opened out into the snow, their mother standing just inside. Like Kya, she was dressed in a full coat and fur-lined hood, her dark hair looped but also braided back, unlike how she wore it in the City. Her sharp eyes were on Bumi.
"Why are you up?"
Bumi was still laughing, though it fizzled out as he looked up to her, and his voice took on a much more sullen tone. "How come only Kya gets to go?"
"Because she asked to, and you're not old enough." Katara nodded her head back into the house. "Now go back inside with your brother."
"But -"
"Do what she says, Bumi." Their father spoke from inside the house, and the tired note in his voice was enough for Bumi to straighten up, pulling himself up off the ground and brushing snow from his pants as he headed back toward the door. Katara stepped out from the doorway, letting him hurry by, and walked out toward Kya.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, kneeling down to pick up the fallen rope from the snow. A part of Kya wanted to snap that she had been ready, but her nerves and excitement quickly overwhelmed her moodiness, and she only nodded, eagerly grabbing their bag and pulling it on her own back. Katara looped the rope a few times, and stored it along her own belt, before she took Kya's shoulder and guided her back to the doorway, where her father was standing now.
"We should be back in three days, by sundown," Katara told him. "It may take us another night, but it shouldn't be any longer than that."
"You're sure about this?"
Katara didn't answer this, but looked sideways, down at her daughter. "What do you say, Kya?"
Kya flushed. "Yes, Dad, I said I want -"
"Okay, all right." Her father looked between them, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I just don't see why you have to go alone -"
"Really, Aang, you want to come on a hunt with us?" Katara shook her head. "Sokka never hunted alone when we were young - I know what I'm doing. And if Kya wants to so badly, she should learn, too. The skies are clear, we'll be fine." She pulled up her hood, nudging Kya to do the same. "And I promise, if we take too long, you can send Appa out to look for us."
"I'm holding you to that." But he leaned out, putting one arm around her shoulder and kissing her briefly. Kya, being of an age where she could no longer look upon this with childish disgust, silently averted her gaze instead, until her father reached for her, pulling her up into a hug.
"You take care of your mother, all right?"
Kya grinned, despite herself. "I will."
Her father released her, and stepped back into the house. Katara, having stepped away from the doorway, returned with the now darkened oil lamp also on her belt, and motioned for Kya to pull on her gloves, as well. It was still dark, but pale white light was just beginning to touch the eastern horizon, and the light from the crescent moon provided enough of a glow for them to see their way forward. Her father continued to wave at them as they made their way away from the house, and the shadowy structures beyond it, but again, Katara put a hand on Kya's back, this time facing her away from her father.
"Okay. How do we go southwest?"
Kya looked to the horizon, then up at the still-visible stars, thinking to the patterns she'd learned from her uncle's handwritten charts, as he couldn't show her back in Republic City.
Then, she pulled their bag a little more snugly against her back, and stepped forward to set their course.
-
Because the hunt was dangerous, and those who survived it could only bring back a small amount of food across the sea and dangerous ice, and the village barely survived. Yet the villagers had no other food, and so they hunted like this for many years. But then, there was a man in the village whose wife died suddenly. After her death, he had no older sons to accompany him on the journey required to feed the village. His eldest child was a daughter named Aliqa, who was only thirteen years old. When it came time for their family to contribute to the village, it seemed the man would have to make the journey alone. But even at her age, Aliqa was known for being a headstrong girl. Having seen the kindness the village offered her family at her mother's death, and feeling a deep need to look out for her younger brothers and sisters, she became determined to go with her father. And so, though he had forbidden it, Aliqa followed her father out to the ice, and jumped aboard his kayak as he headed out to sea. As he could no longer turn her back, her father allowed her to come with him.
-
They spent the entire day on foot, from before the sun came up until it was half-submerged in the western sky. Katara let Kya remain as their guide, and Kya, determined to make it through at least this part without being lectured, took care to ensure she didn't walk off track or become distracted. Being distracted, unfortunately, came easily to her - even out here, where there was really nothing to see but snow and the distant glimmer of steel blue water. Her eyes occasionally caught on to the way the sun glinted on a slab of ice, and to the pass the time she'd think up a tune that fell in with the beat of their feet crunching on the snow. Still, she managed to keep her goal in mind. And not to hum. She was sure her mother was just waiting for her to hum.
They only stopped once, around midday, and then at her mother's insistence. She took the bag from Kya, and unpacked a small lunch of dried seal jerky and sea prunes. Under her mother's supervision, Kya had packed enough to ensure that even if their hunt didn't go well, they wouldn't starve during the next few days. Yet Katara still afforded them only small rations, along with two metal cups filled with snow.
"This is where you met Dad?" Kya asked, taking her time to chew a bit of seal jerky to make it last. Katara frowned with thought.
"It was a little farther out. The weather was warmer, so Sokka and I could go out on a canoe. Of course, we needed Appa to get back."
Kya nodded, and was silent for the rest of the meal. She packed up herself, though Katara insisted she melt and drink two more cups of snow before they started walking again. In the afternoon, however, her mother's mood seemed to brighten as the sun sank further into the sky. About three hours in, she was the one who began to sing to herself, and then to Kya, teaching her the words to what she explained was an old song her father had learned from his, for when they needed to travel great distances. The song, about a foolish polar dog that ran at the sound of its own name, was simple enough, but with it Kya found it much easier to not let any distractions get to her.
And even if it wasn't "Secret Tunnel," it was still pretty catchy.
The crunch under their shoes became noticeably softer as they approached their destination - an icy shore along dark water, by now strewn orange and gold from the sunset. Kya's first instinct was to approach the shore, but her mother stopped her short.
Well, she'd almost made it through the day.
"Why should we go so close to the water now?" Katara asked her, in a tone that Kya couldn't help but feel was meant to patronize her. "We won't be able to hunt until tomorrow - maybe catch a couple fish up by the surface, but that's all. And that ice isn't going to help us build shelter. We need to stay a ways back on the snow, don't you think?"
"Yeah, Mom," Kya agreed quietly, stepping back to join her.
Almost immediately after this, when Kya put down her bag and raised her hands, Katara stopped her again.
"No, we're going to do it without bending."
Kya lowered her hands, but still asked, "Why?"
"Because you can never depend too much on any one thing out here," her mother answered, reaching to her own belt and removing the lamp and a few other items. Among them was a knife with a serrated edge, which she handed to Kya. "I'll take the shovel from the bag. But first -"
Despite what she had just said, Katara walked past her daughter, out toward the ocean line. She removed her gloves as she did so, and Kya watched from behind as she reached the edge of the ice, and raised her hands over the relatively calm waters.
Then, she flicked her hands, and a ball of water emerged from the ocean, lifted up and to the side, and behind her. Katara turned as the water moved, until she let it fall, with a splash, on the ice between her and Kya. Two mid-length, silver fish flopped on the ice at their feet.
"You hang those up while I start digging into the snow, all right?"
All in all, it took Katara and Kya about two hours to pack and saw blocks of snow to form their shelter. Kya could tell she was the one slowing things down, as Katara took the time to help her fit the blocks together, using loose snow to pack them more tightly. Part of a wall collapsed during the process, and Kya was tempted to try to freeze the blocks into place without her mother noticing, but the thought of what Katara would say if she did notice kept her in check. Finally, the sun already gone entirely, they were inside the shelter, a small fire started along a rock using a combination of the kindling and seal blubber they'd packed, and the two fish speared across a slender tusk-made rod perched above it.
"Kya?"
She may have been distracted, but this time, Kya had chosen to distract herself with cooking the fish. She turned the rod lazily over the flames, counting the seconds in her mind, watching the silver skin stiffen and char, and so when her mother spoke, it was as though she was startling her out of a dream.
"I don't think it's done."
"No, it's not that." Her mother was sitting up, but her face was just beyond the firelight. "Why did you want to come out here?"
Kya looked back to the fish. "I'm Water Tribe, too. I didn't just want to hear about it from you."
Her mother was quiet for another moment, but then, "You're sure there's nothing else you want to talk about?"
Kya's eyes stayed on the fire. She turned the fish again.
-
When Aliqa and her father set out on the sea, there were no clouds in the sky, and the water was calm. Nothing moved beneath their kayak for hours as they traveled farther and farther out. The icy shore they had started from grew more and more distant, until they could no longer see it, but only remember the direction from where they came. Even this became difficult, though, because while the sky was clear, the winds around them grew stronger, and the waves whipped at the kayak as Aliqa and her father tried to stay on course.
At last, Aliqa's father stopped paddling, and drew out hooks, and line, and a harpoon. Working together, Aliqa and her father filled the kayak with fish. The fish arrived so fast that they seemed to be waiting to be caught, and Aliqa helped him tie their captured whale to the sides of the kayak with greater ease than should have been possible from anyone. Before long, though the wind did its best to blow them off course, and the rocking of the waves to unsteady their hands, Aliqa and her father had collected more game than anyone else ever had before.
-
Katara let Kya decide when they would wake up the next morning, and nudged her to take the lead in choosing their tools and setting up near the ice. It gave Kya a twinge of guilt for how quiet and distant she'd been before, and she tried to make up for it by asking questions and keeping at least a quiet conversation running as they sorted through their things, preparing fish hooks and harpoons. Kya went silent when Katara showed her the pockets in the ice they would have to watch (something that was easier to explain when you could actually see it), and she agreed to the suggestion that they take turns, walking along the ice and out on its edge.
Hooking fish, Kya eventually decided, was more interesting than waiting for seal, if only because there was a lot less waiting. No fish they caught could rival what a good arctic or tiger seal could offer, however, and so when she did see a nose poke its way up through one of the holes in the ice, Kya didn't hesitate to strike. She wasn't sure if she imagined her mother's surprise at this, but tried to put the thought out of her mind as she dragged the animal away, to a mound of snow they'd bent to both keep and hide what they had caught.
With two more seal and plenty of fish caught by late afternoon, Katara decided they could set packed jerky aside, and butcher one of the seals instead. Kya was almost stubborn in her determination - she took the knife her mother offered and cut the creature open lengthwise, emptying and setting aside the organs and only allowing her mother to help when it came to cutting and scraping meat from its skin. When it came time to eat, they didn't start another fire, instead eating the chewy meat raw as they collected up what was left and preserved it in pouches or waterbent blocks of ice.
Kya was finishing packing things in when she noticed her mother was no longer working with her. She looked up and around, and saw her figure closer to the line of ice, looking out toward the west, silhouetted in what was left of the sunlight. Kya stood, and walked over to her, keeping her steps soft but still loud enough that her mother could hear her approach.
"Mom?"
Her mother turned, then visibly hesitated. Kya looked beyond her, and noticed something she hadn't before - a spot of gray clouds along the horizon. She didn't look away until she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder.
"Come on, let's get inside."
Kya looked between her mother and the very distant clouds, but then turned and walked with her back to the igloo. They buried their game and blocks of seal fat in the snow, and pulled their things into the shelter. As the cold grew deeper, Kya lit their packed kindling and oil on the stone again, while Katara took their coats and boots, and set them aside for the night. It was still warm enough, as Katara pulled Kya up against her and wrapped them in the blankest and pelts they had brought, but for once Kya felt strange being so close to her mother, as though despite being right up against her, they were somehow divided. She waited as it grew darker and darker inside the igloo, trying to listen to her mother's breathing, to tell if it had slowed enough to suggest she was sleeping, but she didn't hear any difference.
Finally, "Did you think I could do it?"
"Of course I did, sweetheart," her mother answers promptly. "But we're not home yet."
"Okay."
Something crunched in the snow outside, but neither woman moved.
"I wasn't sure -"
Her mother's weight against her felt heavier, and the words forming in her mind slowed and softened until they were only mush. Katara's breathing stayed steady against her, but Kya closed her eyes.
She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes again. It was still entirely dark, but the crunching was louder, and she could feel the walls of their shelter shuddering. Without thinking, Kya quickly disentangled herself from her mother, who was now unmoving beside her. By what little light was left from the stone lamp below, Kya reached for her gloves and coat and pulled them on. Then she stood, knees bent slightly, before taking a few steps in the direction she knew led to the snow-enclosed doorway.
"Kya, no!"
Kya stopped, and was just beginning to turn when she was knocked sideways onto the ground, and a roar sounded above her. Her mother screamed, but before Kya could stand again, she was buried in snow. She forced herself up anyway, shaking as she stood straight through the mound of ice and snow above her, and into the cold night. Still unable to see (and her mind registered, somewhere - where were the stars? Where was the waxing moon?), she lunged toward her mother's cries, and something sharp cut into her shoulder, right through her coat, sending her tumbling backward.
And then, somehow, it was as though all of it - her mother, the crunching in the snow, the heavy breath of something - seemed to tune out. Kya pulled herself back up, and took off her gloves, exposing her hands to the bitter cold. She reached for her own belt, first to a small pouch, then her own oil lamp. She crouched down, set the lamp on the ground, and snapped the two flint rocks over it.
The spark lit the lamp, and orange light glinted against a mass of white fur. Kya reached out, and from a distance behind them, ice cracked and slammed through the air, hitting the polar bear dog straight on. It snarled but tumbled back, and Kya raised her hands, pulling up a wall of snow and turning it to ice between them. She waited a few seconds, then rushed over to her mother.
"I'm sorry -"
By the dim light from the lamp, she could see her mother shake her head. She looked startled, but fine, until Kya's eyes reached her leg.
"I can -" Again without waiting, Kya raised her hands, and snow collected along her mother's leg, which was twisted and bleeding out. The snow melted to water, and the water glowed bright blue as Kya bent it around the injury. The blood washed away, and the bleeding didn't continue, but her leg remained twisted in an unnatural angle.
"It's broken," Katara muttered, still breathing heavily. "Take my - rope and something to wrap around it."
Kya worked as quickly as she could, retrieving a blanket and using the rope to force her mother's leg straight enough to stand on. She knew what she really needed to do was clean and dress both her mother's and her own wound, but there was barely enough light for her to see what she was doing as it was. When she finished, her mother sat up, but shuddered and grabbed her shoulder when she tried to move her leg. Katara leaned back, head tilted toward the sky, and didn't say anything for a few moments.
Then, very quietly, "Look around."
Kya looked up, too. The sky was still too dark, but for the first time, she noticed that it was snowing. The snow melted or whipped away when it came anywhere near them, but it was falling evenly everywhere else. Kya looked back to her mother.
"Are you - am I doing that?"
Katara didn't answer this, but Kya felt her mother's hand reach for her own.
"Kya, it was looking for shelter."
Without saying anything, Kya looked back up toward the sky.
-
Though their game came to them as though lured by some beautiful sight, the once clear sky grew dark and clouded above Aliqa and her father. They could have left, but being determined and proud, Aliqa convinced her father to stay until their boat was full, so that as much as possible could be brought back to their village. Finally, they began to paddle back toward the distant shore, but the current grew stronger and colder, and rain and then snow fell from the sky. Aliqa didn't falter as she and her father fought their way through the sea, not when their kayak tossed and nearly turned over, nor when she grew so cold that she could no longer feel the paddle in her hands.
Finally, the shore came back in sight, but then the sea turned from gray to bright blue, and the water rose up, not as a wave, but like a great hand reaching from the deep, and snatched Aliqa from the boat. Most believe it was the Ocean Spirit itself, like the fish and the whales entranced by her, and determined to keep her in the sea. But before the water could take her under, Aliqa took hold of her father's kayak, clinging to its edge with her freezing hands as the waves tried to pull her down beneath.
-
"Kya, these kinds of winds - they're a hunter's nightmare. They hit so fast and so hard, and sometimes they cause storms that you just can't see coming."
Their last shelter destroyed, Kya had made another using bending, creating a glistening sheet of ice beneath a dome of snow. She couldn't find anything for kindling, but dug out a sack of seal oil they had packed away, using to keep their two lamps lit. Beyond the snow walls, the wind was beginning to screech, but Kya tried to ignore it. She focused on undoing the ropes around her mother's leg, and peeling the cloth around it. Katara shuddered when the cold air touched her skin, but Kya plunged her hands into the snow and began bending water around the wound again.
"Mom, it bit you," she said, her voice shaking and her eyes down. "I should've cleaned it right away -"
"You needed to make a shelter, Kya," Katara answered, though her own voice was barely above a murmur. "We need to wait the storm out before we can go home."
"How long will it take?"
Katara closed her eyes, and didn't answer. Kya's control snapped, the water she was bending slipping to the ground and freezing almost at once.
"Mom!" Her voice broke, but her mother's eyes opened again. She blinked down to Kya's hands.
"You need your gloves on -"
"I can't do healing like that -"
"- Kya, you'll get frostbite -"
"- Mom, your leg is swelling!" She force herself not to cry, though she nearly shouted it. Katara pressed her hand against her forehead, eyes closed again, and Kya was struck with the unfamiliar and cutting realization that her mother wasn't sure what to do, either.
And then she spoke again. "We can't just stay here if you're getting worse. We have to start going back."
Her mother hesitated, but then nodded. She stayed still as Kya washed her wound to the extent she could, then tied it up again. Then Kya went out into the storm, collecting everything she could find - the bag they'd packed and what was left in it, the partially filled game bag. Kya made herself eat three handfuls of snow and more of the raw seal meat, before she packed everything up, and dragged it to her hastily made shelter. Going back inside, she took a knife from their packed bag and ripped through a blanket, using strips of it to tie her mother's leg instead of the rope.
Finally, she stepped back outside, took off her gloves, and again pulled in a block of ice from the distance. This time, rather than throwing it, she melted and froze the water so as to shape it, forcing herself to mold the ice as though it were clay, while her hands trembled and went numb with the cold. Though it seemed to take hours, she eventually had a makeshift sled. She put her gloves back on, and then covered the sled with one of the pelts her mother had packed, before tying their game bag and supply bag to it. Then, she brought down the shelter, and pulled her mother up over her shoulder, settling her down on the sled before she tied the last free lengths of rope in tight, secure knots on either side of her belt. Kya picked up her lamp, and set out on foot, dragging her mother and their bags behind her.
She didn't try to figure out how much time passed as she forced herself through the snow. Bending helped her move the sled, kept the snow out of her eyes and allowed her to walk along without sinking. But there was very little light, and her only guides back were the glaciers and the entrenched knowledge of which direction led to the ocean. Eventually, she let herself hum, first the song about the polar dog, then "Secret Tunnel." She didn't care what happened, as long as she could just keep walking.
While the clouds above grew light enough that she could guess that at some point it had been day, by the time they darkened again, the storm only seemed to be getting worse. Kya had to stop more often, out of breath, needing more handfuls of snow, needing to check that her mother was all right. Still, it must have been hours after the sky began to darken before she finally stopped, and used bending to create another makeshift shelter. Kya led her mother inside, then buried their bags in snow before entering the shelter herself to check on her mother's wound.
When she lifted the cloth again, her heart dropped.
"Kya." Her mother's voice was weak, but insistent. "I'll be fine."
Kya didn't answer. She bent more water around her mother's leg, but while this helped close the wounds, it didn't relieve the swelling, and only temporarily relieved the heat that now seemed to radiate from her mother's skin.
"Mom." Kya keeps her eyes forward, water still moving under her hands. "I don't think it's that much farther, I could go by myself and tell them -"
"No -" It was as sharp as her mother could manage it.
"Mom, I made you bring me -"
"You didn't make me do anything," Katara interrupted again. "Wrap it up and we'll wait until the storm passes. This isn't going to kill me, Kya."
Maybe it wouldn't, but Kya knew if an infection went untreated with something more than her own healing abilities (as good as she was for someone her age, she was no match for this), then by the time they did get back, she could lose her leg. Or worse. But for the moment, Kya obeyed her mother, wrapping up her wounded leg again. She wandered out to bring in a cup of snow and a small portion of fresh meat, which her mother accepted, though reluctantly, which put Kya further on edge. Still, she took up the coverings they had brought, and again settled next to her mother, wrapping the furs around them both and trying to ignore how little she seemed to need it when it seemed her mother was beginning to get feverish.
It lasted several hours. The sides of the shelter rocked, so Kya occasionally lifted her hands, turning the walls to ice to try to still them. Her mother became warmer, and though her eyes closed, Kya couldn't sleep next to her. Every half hour she got up, washed her mother's leg with water, cooled her skin and healed the wounds a little further, but it didn't seem to stop the infection.
After she had done this for a sixth time, Kya curled up next to her mother again, but didn't draw up any of the covers.
"I wanted to do this because I was scared."
Her mother's eyes fluttered open, though her response was a dim, "Mmm…"
"I'm scared of all this, and I didn't want to be. I thought if I was scared of what could happen out here, I couldn't be like you. I'm not really like you and I'm not like Dad…"
"Kya, no -"
"Mom, I have to go now."
She stood, her mother's hand still reaching for her as she walked away. Kya opened their bag, and collected everything she could find that would burn well enough - the remaining jerky, loose cloth, she even snapped off the handles of their tools. After piling it up in the middle of their shelter, she brought in what remained of the oil, pouring a small portion over the pile, and then placing the jar holding the rest at her mother's side. Finally, she took her mother's lamp, looked in it, and poured part of the oil into the jar, leaving only a small amount inside.
"The lamp will last for two hours. When it goes out, light this." She put the flint rocks down next to the jar. Her mother didn't say anything, and Kya looked up, to the roof of their shelter. Then, with one swift movement, she blasted a hole through the top of it.
"When you light that, it'll send up smoke. That's how they'll see you."
"Kya, I said no -"
Kya moved over to her, and knelt down, touching her nose to her mother's cheek.
"See you later."
"Kya -"
But Kya rose from the ground, grabbed her own lamp, and left the shelter, caving in the entrance behind her.
Outside, it was so cold that even with her gloves on, she could barely feel her hands. Her fingers seemed frozen, wrapped around the handle to her lamp, but she walked forward, counting her paces, this time trying to keep track of time, to know how long she had left her mother. How long it would take them to get back to her. To know exactly how to tell them where to find her. The sky stayed dark, and though she could keep the snow away from her eyes and face, she couldn't do anything about the wind, or about the cold that sliced into her shoulder, which she had ignored this whole time. She couldn't go back for something to cover it, and so continued to ignore it. Soon it seemed to go numb, too.
But though she couldn't feel her fingers, they still held the lamp. Though her legs grew weak, she still walked.
No matter how scared she was, Kya did not freeze, or shatter into pieces.
Seventeen thousand, six hundred paces later, Kya saw pinpricks of light in the distance.
Two hundred more, and she heard a voice calling out. Her numb feet finally tripped over each other, and Kya fell into the snow, her lamp rolling into the snow beside her.
-
Aliqa couldn't hear above the roaring waves, and couldn't understand what was happening. She only wanted to return to her father. But as she clung to the side of his kayak, she nearly overturned it, and no matter how much her father tried to pull her out, the water would not let her go. If her father did not return, the food they had caught would never reach the villagers, who could starve before anyone else could make it back.
Some say in order to save the village, Aliqa's father took his knife, and cut off her fingers, leaving her to drown. Others claim the sea grew so cold that Aliqa's hands froze and snapped off her wrists. But though she was pulled down by the tide, Aliqa still tried to swim, still tried to follow the shadow of her father's boat. And when the water grew heavy enough to crush her, and she could no longer follow, her will still broke through. Her fingers turned into seals and fish, the first that followed her father all the way back to the shore. So determined not to leave her village, though Aliqa stayed in the ocean, the fish and the arctic and tiger seals all sprang from her hands, and fed the village and its descendants until this day. So long as hunters respect Aliqa and her will, they need not make the journey she did, and the waters will be alive and full.
-
"Wait -" Jinora asked, "What happened to her?"
"Well, her uncle picked her up right where she fell, and she told them where her mother was." Kya looked down to Jinora. "And just like she'd said, the fire and smoke let them find her, even in the storm."
"So they were both all right?"
"Her mother took a while to use both legs again, but yes, they were both fine."
"Is it dangerous in the South Pole?"
"Sometimes, but it can be dangerous anywhere, sweetheart. I have a few stories about this city, too -"
"I think," Pema said quietly, behind them, "That dinner will be ready soon."
The laundry had all been pinned up, but Pema was sitting on a rock a few feet from them, her eyes on Kya. Her voice made Jinora start.
"Mom?"
"Go ahead inside, Jinora. We'll come in a minute."
Jinora looked at her mother for a moment, but then straightened, and stood up. "Thank you for the story, Aunt Kya," she said politely, as she had many times before. Kya nodded, and Jinora headed off in the direction of the temple.
Once she'd left, both women moved to stand. Kya moved to help Pema, but Pema waved her off.
"Really, I'm not even that far along yet," she insisted.
"All right then," Kya answered, cheerfully enough, though she did take the moment to pick up the empty laundry basket.
"I am sorry about that Water Tribe story," she told Pema, as they began to walk back in the direction of the temple. "She didn't tell me it scared her."
"I don't know if she really knows it does," Pema replied, sounding a little resigned. "Not until about ten minutes before bed, anyway."
"No, I know what it's like," Kya answered. "That story always scared me, too."
Recipient: Zumie
Rating: PG-13 (Some very brief violence; also character injury, and a very lightly detailed description of a (tiger) seal being butchered. I'm kind of rating on the safe side here, I guess.)
Characters/Pairings: Primarily Katara and Kya, though Jinora, Pema, Bumi (non-bender), and Aang make brief appearances. Also includes two non-established characters in a parallel story.
Summary: After Pema stops Kya from retelling an old Southern Water Tribe story that gives Jinora nightmares, Kya instead recounts a hunting trip taken by a mother and daughter many years earlier.
Notes: The parallel narrative in this is adapted from the story of the Inuit religious figure sometimes known as Sedna. There are many different versions of her story, though the climactic moment tends to be the same. I adapted it in a way I felt would work for the Southern Water Tribe. Because it was adapted, and because I think canon may have already made a reference to Sedna by naming Korra's mother Senna (which is closer to the phonetic pronunciation), I chose to give her a different name. Aliqa is taken from the Inuktun word for older sister.
Also, the song about the polar dog afraid of its own name was inspired by the Inuit dog spirit Qiqirn.
"A long time ago, when our ancestors first came to the South -"
At this, Pema interrupted.
"Oh, please Kya, not that one."
Jinora looked up and around to her mother, who set a large basket of freshly washed orange robes and white tunics onto the ground, and began pinning them up along the fluttering clothesline. Kya brushed her hair out of her face, looking between them, and Jinora protested, "But Mom -"
"Really, Jinora." A particularly strong gust of wind came off the waterline, nearly snagging the shirt Pema was hanging out of her hands. "Every time you ask Aunt Kya for that story, and every night after you come into our room saying you've had nightmares about your hands breaking off or your fingers bursting into elephant rats or - whatever."
Jinora folded her arms and frowned as her mother spoke, before her eyes turned back to Kya. But her aunt was already watching her, and to Jinora's great annoyance, she was smiling.
"Maybe it is time for a different story," Kya suggested, her voice quiet. Jinora opened her mouth to protest, but Kya raised her hand. "Come on, I know you like that one, but if you only want to hear it, how will you find anything new?"
(Pema would later find these to be the words Jinora most took to heart from this afternoon.)
Kya looked up, blue eyes on the clouded horizon. "How about one only I can tell?"
Jinora's head tilted. "How come only you can tell it?"
"Because I'm the only one who knows it, and I've never told it to anyone else." She looked back down to her niece. "But after I've told you, you'll know how to tell it, too."
Jinora considered this offer, glancing over Kya's shoulder to see if her mother was watching. Her mother only seemed interested in a long white sheet she was pinning to the clothesline; Jinora's eyes returned to her aunt, and she nodded.
"All right then, come over here." Jinora obediently moved to the rock Kya was sitting against, resting her head on her aunt's shoulder, tucked precisely under her arm. Kya moved her arm around Jinora, and leaned her head back against the rock, looking up at the sky.
"There was a girl, not that much older than you, who didn't want to be afraid of anything. The problem was, whether we like it or not, there are always things that scare us…"
-
A long time ago, when our ancestors first came to the South Pole, there were no fish or seal or sea crabs in the waters near land, only the fish and whales in the distant sea. In order to survive, the first of our tribe had to travel a great distance, to the ice where it was impossible to settle, and go out to sea, where fish and whales could be caught and collected. Because not everyone could be spared to make the trip, those in the first village established a rule that each family would take its turn to hunt, and bring back the food the village needed.
-
Kya practiced her knots again. Overhand, over-under-over, pull, tighten, for a strong bowline. Then she undid it, and twisted the rope into another knot, loops fanning out like butterfly wings. Her fingers were freezing, but she stubbornly continued, the only light coming from an oil lamp sitting in the snow next to her. Her mother had insisted that they had to leave early, though now with their bag packed and ready next to Kya, she was still inside. Kya could hear enough to know that her mother and father were talking, but not enough to tell if they were arguing, and that's what was taking so long.
"I can do it faster."
Kya didn't look up from her knots. "Shut up, Bumi."
Her brother sprang into the lamplight, grabbing one loop in her knot and pulling it out. The knot slipped undone, leaving a simple length of rope between them. Kya dropped it, jumping to her feet.
"I said shut up!"
Three icicles along the roof of the house behind them fell and smashed at her words, but this only seemed delight Bumi further, as he tumbled back on the snow, roaring with laughter. Kya heard footsteps from inside the house, before the door opened out into the snow, their mother standing just inside. Like Kya, she was dressed in a full coat and fur-lined hood, her dark hair looped but also braided back, unlike how she wore it in the City. Her sharp eyes were on Bumi.
"Why are you up?"
Bumi was still laughing, though it fizzled out as he looked up to her, and his voice took on a much more sullen tone. "How come only Kya gets to go?"
"Because she asked to, and you're not old enough." Katara nodded her head back into the house. "Now go back inside with your brother."
"But -"
"Do what she says, Bumi." Their father spoke from inside the house, and the tired note in his voice was enough for Bumi to straighten up, pulling himself up off the ground and brushing snow from his pants as he headed back toward the door. Katara stepped out from the doorway, letting him hurry by, and walked out toward Kya.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, kneeling down to pick up the fallen rope from the snow. A part of Kya wanted to snap that she had been ready, but her nerves and excitement quickly overwhelmed her moodiness, and she only nodded, eagerly grabbing their bag and pulling it on her own back. Katara looped the rope a few times, and stored it along her own belt, before she took Kya's shoulder and guided her back to the doorway, where her father was standing now.
"We should be back in three days, by sundown," Katara told him. "It may take us another night, but it shouldn't be any longer than that."
"You're sure about this?"
Katara didn't answer this, but looked sideways, down at her daughter. "What do you say, Kya?"
Kya flushed. "Yes, Dad, I said I want -"
"Okay, all right." Her father looked between them, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I just don't see why you have to go alone -"
"Really, Aang, you want to come on a hunt with us?" Katara shook her head. "Sokka never hunted alone when we were young - I know what I'm doing. And if Kya wants to so badly, she should learn, too. The skies are clear, we'll be fine." She pulled up her hood, nudging Kya to do the same. "And I promise, if we take too long, you can send Appa out to look for us."
"I'm holding you to that." But he leaned out, putting one arm around her shoulder and kissing her briefly. Kya, being of an age where she could no longer look upon this with childish disgust, silently averted her gaze instead, until her father reached for her, pulling her up into a hug.
"You take care of your mother, all right?"
Kya grinned, despite herself. "I will."
Her father released her, and stepped back into the house. Katara, having stepped away from the doorway, returned with the now darkened oil lamp also on her belt, and motioned for Kya to pull on her gloves, as well. It was still dark, but pale white light was just beginning to touch the eastern horizon, and the light from the crescent moon provided enough of a glow for them to see their way forward. Her father continued to wave at them as they made their way away from the house, and the shadowy structures beyond it, but again, Katara put a hand on Kya's back, this time facing her away from her father.
"Okay. How do we go southwest?"
Kya looked to the horizon, then up at the still-visible stars, thinking to the patterns she'd learned from her uncle's handwritten charts, as he couldn't show her back in Republic City.
Then, she pulled their bag a little more snugly against her back, and stepped forward to set their course.
-
Because the hunt was dangerous, and those who survived it could only bring back a small amount of food across the sea and dangerous ice, and the village barely survived. Yet the villagers had no other food, and so they hunted like this for many years. But then, there was a man in the village whose wife died suddenly. After her death, he had no older sons to accompany him on the journey required to feed the village. His eldest child was a daughter named Aliqa, who was only thirteen years old. When it came time for their family to contribute to the village, it seemed the man would have to make the journey alone. But even at her age, Aliqa was known for being a headstrong girl. Having seen the kindness the village offered her family at her mother's death, and feeling a deep need to look out for her younger brothers and sisters, she became determined to go with her father. And so, though he had forbidden it, Aliqa followed her father out to the ice, and jumped aboard his kayak as he headed out to sea. As he could no longer turn her back, her father allowed her to come with him.
-
They spent the entire day on foot, from before the sun came up until it was half-submerged in the western sky. Katara let Kya remain as their guide, and Kya, determined to make it through at least this part without being lectured, took care to ensure she didn't walk off track or become distracted. Being distracted, unfortunately, came easily to her - even out here, where there was really nothing to see but snow and the distant glimmer of steel blue water. Her eyes occasionally caught on to the way the sun glinted on a slab of ice, and to the pass the time she'd think up a tune that fell in with the beat of their feet crunching on the snow. Still, she managed to keep her goal in mind. And not to hum. She was sure her mother was just waiting for her to hum.
They only stopped once, around midday, and then at her mother's insistence. She took the bag from Kya, and unpacked a small lunch of dried seal jerky and sea prunes. Under her mother's supervision, Kya had packed enough to ensure that even if their hunt didn't go well, they wouldn't starve during the next few days. Yet Katara still afforded them only small rations, along with two metal cups filled with snow.
"This is where you met Dad?" Kya asked, taking her time to chew a bit of seal jerky to make it last. Katara frowned with thought.
"It was a little farther out. The weather was warmer, so Sokka and I could go out on a canoe. Of course, we needed Appa to get back."
Kya nodded, and was silent for the rest of the meal. She packed up herself, though Katara insisted she melt and drink two more cups of snow before they started walking again. In the afternoon, however, her mother's mood seemed to brighten as the sun sank further into the sky. About three hours in, she was the one who began to sing to herself, and then to Kya, teaching her the words to what she explained was an old song her father had learned from his, for when they needed to travel great distances. The song, about a foolish polar dog that ran at the sound of its own name, was simple enough, but with it Kya found it much easier to not let any distractions get to her.
And even if it wasn't "Secret Tunnel," it was still pretty catchy.
The crunch under their shoes became noticeably softer as they approached their destination - an icy shore along dark water, by now strewn orange and gold from the sunset. Kya's first instinct was to approach the shore, but her mother stopped her short.
Well, she'd almost made it through the day.
"Why should we go so close to the water now?" Katara asked her, in a tone that Kya couldn't help but feel was meant to patronize her. "We won't be able to hunt until tomorrow - maybe catch a couple fish up by the surface, but that's all. And that ice isn't going to help us build shelter. We need to stay a ways back on the snow, don't you think?"
"Yeah, Mom," Kya agreed quietly, stepping back to join her.
Almost immediately after this, when Kya put down her bag and raised her hands, Katara stopped her again.
"No, we're going to do it without bending."
Kya lowered her hands, but still asked, "Why?"
"Because you can never depend too much on any one thing out here," her mother answered, reaching to her own belt and removing the lamp and a few other items. Among them was a knife with a serrated edge, which she handed to Kya. "I'll take the shovel from the bag. But first -"
Despite what she had just said, Katara walked past her daughter, out toward the ocean line. She removed her gloves as she did so, and Kya watched from behind as she reached the edge of the ice, and raised her hands over the relatively calm waters.
Then, she flicked her hands, and a ball of water emerged from the ocean, lifted up and to the side, and behind her. Katara turned as the water moved, until she let it fall, with a splash, on the ice between her and Kya. Two mid-length, silver fish flopped on the ice at their feet.
"You hang those up while I start digging into the snow, all right?"
All in all, it took Katara and Kya about two hours to pack and saw blocks of snow to form their shelter. Kya could tell she was the one slowing things down, as Katara took the time to help her fit the blocks together, using loose snow to pack them more tightly. Part of a wall collapsed during the process, and Kya was tempted to try to freeze the blocks into place without her mother noticing, but the thought of what Katara would say if she did notice kept her in check. Finally, the sun already gone entirely, they were inside the shelter, a small fire started along a rock using a combination of the kindling and seal blubber they'd packed, and the two fish speared across a slender tusk-made rod perched above it.
"Kya?"
She may have been distracted, but this time, Kya had chosen to distract herself with cooking the fish. She turned the rod lazily over the flames, counting the seconds in her mind, watching the silver skin stiffen and char, and so when her mother spoke, it was as though she was startling her out of a dream.
"I don't think it's done."
"No, it's not that." Her mother was sitting up, but her face was just beyond the firelight. "Why did you want to come out here?"
Kya looked back to the fish. "I'm Water Tribe, too. I didn't just want to hear about it from you."
Her mother was quiet for another moment, but then, "You're sure there's nothing else you want to talk about?"
Kya's eyes stayed on the fire. She turned the fish again.
-
When Aliqa and her father set out on the sea, there were no clouds in the sky, and the water was calm. Nothing moved beneath their kayak for hours as they traveled farther and farther out. The icy shore they had started from grew more and more distant, until they could no longer see it, but only remember the direction from where they came. Even this became difficult, though, because while the sky was clear, the winds around them grew stronger, and the waves whipped at the kayak as Aliqa and her father tried to stay on course.
At last, Aliqa's father stopped paddling, and drew out hooks, and line, and a harpoon. Working together, Aliqa and her father filled the kayak with fish. The fish arrived so fast that they seemed to be waiting to be caught, and Aliqa helped him tie their captured whale to the sides of the kayak with greater ease than should have been possible from anyone. Before long, though the wind did its best to blow them off course, and the rocking of the waves to unsteady their hands, Aliqa and her father had collected more game than anyone else ever had before.
-
Katara let Kya decide when they would wake up the next morning, and nudged her to take the lead in choosing their tools and setting up near the ice. It gave Kya a twinge of guilt for how quiet and distant she'd been before, and she tried to make up for it by asking questions and keeping at least a quiet conversation running as they sorted through their things, preparing fish hooks and harpoons. Kya went silent when Katara showed her the pockets in the ice they would have to watch (something that was easier to explain when you could actually see it), and she agreed to the suggestion that they take turns, walking along the ice and out on its edge.
Hooking fish, Kya eventually decided, was more interesting than waiting for seal, if only because there was a lot less waiting. No fish they caught could rival what a good arctic or tiger seal could offer, however, and so when she did see a nose poke its way up through one of the holes in the ice, Kya didn't hesitate to strike. She wasn't sure if she imagined her mother's surprise at this, but tried to put the thought out of her mind as she dragged the animal away, to a mound of snow they'd bent to both keep and hide what they had caught.
With two more seal and plenty of fish caught by late afternoon, Katara decided they could set packed jerky aside, and butcher one of the seals instead. Kya was almost stubborn in her determination - she took the knife her mother offered and cut the creature open lengthwise, emptying and setting aside the organs and only allowing her mother to help when it came to cutting and scraping meat from its skin. When it came time to eat, they didn't start another fire, instead eating the chewy meat raw as they collected up what was left and preserved it in pouches or waterbent blocks of ice.
Kya was finishing packing things in when she noticed her mother was no longer working with her. She looked up and around, and saw her figure closer to the line of ice, looking out toward the west, silhouetted in what was left of the sunlight. Kya stood, and walked over to her, keeping her steps soft but still loud enough that her mother could hear her approach.
"Mom?"
Her mother turned, then visibly hesitated. Kya looked beyond her, and noticed something she hadn't before - a spot of gray clouds along the horizon. She didn't look away until she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder.
"Come on, let's get inside."
Kya looked between her mother and the very distant clouds, but then turned and walked with her back to the igloo. They buried their game and blocks of seal fat in the snow, and pulled their things into the shelter. As the cold grew deeper, Kya lit their packed kindling and oil on the stone again, while Katara took their coats and boots, and set them aside for the night. It was still warm enough, as Katara pulled Kya up against her and wrapped them in the blankest and pelts they had brought, but for once Kya felt strange being so close to her mother, as though despite being right up against her, they were somehow divided. She waited as it grew darker and darker inside the igloo, trying to listen to her mother's breathing, to tell if it had slowed enough to suggest she was sleeping, but she didn't hear any difference.
Finally, "Did you think I could do it?"
"Of course I did, sweetheart," her mother answers promptly. "But we're not home yet."
"Okay."
Something crunched in the snow outside, but neither woman moved.
"I wasn't sure -"
Her mother's weight against her felt heavier, and the words forming in her mind slowed and softened until they were only mush. Katara's breathing stayed steady against her, but Kya closed her eyes.
She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes again. It was still entirely dark, but the crunching was louder, and she could feel the walls of their shelter shuddering. Without thinking, Kya quickly disentangled herself from her mother, who was now unmoving beside her. By what little light was left from the stone lamp below, Kya reached for her gloves and coat and pulled them on. Then she stood, knees bent slightly, before taking a few steps in the direction she knew led to the snow-enclosed doorway.
"Kya, no!"
Kya stopped, and was just beginning to turn when she was knocked sideways onto the ground, and a roar sounded above her. Her mother screamed, but before Kya could stand again, she was buried in snow. She forced herself up anyway, shaking as she stood straight through the mound of ice and snow above her, and into the cold night. Still unable to see (and her mind registered, somewhere - where were the stars? Where was the waxing moon?), she lunged toward her mother's cries, and something sharp cut into her shoulder, right through her coat, sending her tumbling backward.
And then, somehow, it was as though all of it - her mother, the crunching in the snow, the heavy breath of something - seemed to tune out. Kya pulled herself back up, and took off her gloves, exposing her hands to the bitter cold. She reached for her own belt, first to a small pouch, then her own oil lamp. She crouched down, set the lamp on the ground, and snapped the two flint rocks over it.
The spark lit the lamp, and orange light glinted against a mass of white fur. Kya reached out, and from a distance behind them, ice cracked and slammed through the air, hitting the polar bear dog straight on. It snarled but tumbled back, and Kya raised her hands, pulling up a wall of snow and turning it to ice between them. She waited a few seconds, then rushed over to her mother.
"I'm sorry -"
By the dim light from the lamp, she could see her mother shake her head. She looked startled, but fine, until Kya's eyes reached her leg.
"I can -" Again without waiting, Kya raised her hands, and snow collected along her mother's leg, which was twisted and bleeding out. The snow melted to water, and the water glowed bright blue as Kya bent it around the injury. The blood washed away, and the bleeding didn't continue, but her leg remained twisted in an unnatural angle.
"It's broken," Katara muttered, still breathing heavily. "Take my - rope and something to wrap around it."
Kya worked as quickly as she could, retrieving a blanket and using the rope to force her mother's leg straight enough to stand on. She knew what she really needed to do was clean and dress both her mother's and her own wound, but there was barely enough light for her to see what she was doing as it was. When she finished, her mother sat up, but shuddered and grabbed her shoulder when she tried to move her leg. Katara leaned back, head tilted toward the sky, and didn't say anything for a few moments.
Then, very quietly, "Look around."
Kya looked up, too. The sky was still too dark, but for the first time, she noticed that it was snowing. The snow melted or whipped away when it came anywhere near them, but it was falling evenly everywhere else. Kya looked back to her mother.
"Are you - am I doing that?"
Katara didn't answer this, but Kya felt her mother's hand reach for her own.
"Kya, it was looking for shelter."
Without saying anything, Kya looked back up toward the sky.
-
Though their game came to them as though lured by some beautiful sight, the once clear sky grew dark and clouded above Aliqa and her father. They could have left, but being determined and proud, Aliqa convinced her father to stay until their boat was full, so that as much as possible could be brought back to their village. Finally, they began to paddle back toward the distant shore, but the current grew stronger and colder, and rain and then snow fell from the sky. Aliqa didn't falter as she and her father fought their way through the sea, not when their kayak tossed and nearly turned over, nor when she grew so cold that she could no longer feel the paddle in her hands.
Finally, the shore came back in sight, but then the sea turned from gray to bright blue, and the water rose up, not as a wave, but like a great hand reaching from the deep, and snatched Aliqa from the boat. Most believe it was the Ocean Spirit itself, like the fish and the whales entranced by her, and determined to keep her in the sea. But before the water could take her under, Aliqa took hold of her father's kayak, clinging to its edge with her freezing hands as the waves tried to pull her down beneath.
-
"Kya, these kinds of winds - they're a hunter's nightmare. They hit so fast and so hard, and sometimes they cause storms that you just can't see coming."
Their last shelter destroyed, Kya had made another using bending, creating a glistening sheet of ice beneath a dome of snow. She couldn't find anything for kindling, but dug out a sack of seal oil they had packed away, using to keep their two lamps lit. Beyond the snow walls, the wind was beginning to screech, but Kya tried to ignore it. She focused on undoing the ropes around her mother's leg, and peeling the cloth around it. Katara shuddered when the cold air touched her skin, but Kya plunged her hands into the snow and began bending water around the wound again.
"Mom, it bit you," she said, her voice shaking and her eyes down. "I should've cleaned it right away -"
"You needed to make a shelter, Kya," Katara answered, though her own voice was barely above a murmur. "We need to wait the storm out before we can go home."
"How long will it take?"
Katara closed her eyes, and didn't answer. Kya's control snapped, the water she was bending slipping to the ground and freezing almost at once.
"Mom!" Her voice broke, but her mother's eyes opened again. She blinked down to Kya's hands.
"You need your gloves on -"
"I can't do healing like that -"
"- Kya, you'll get frostbite -"
"- Mom, your leg is swelling!" She force herself not to cry, though she nearly shouted it. Katara pressed her hand against her forehead, eyes closed again, and Kya was struck with the unfamiliar and cutting realization that her mother wasn't sure what to do, either.
And then she spoke again. "We can't just stay here if you're getting worse. We have to start going back."
Her mother hesitated, but then nodded. She stayed still as Kya washed her wound to the extent she could, then tied it up again. Then Kya went out into the storm, collecting everything she could find - the bag they'd packed and what was left in it, the partially filled game bag. Kya made herself eat three handfuls of snow and more of the raw seal meat, before she packed everything up, and dragged it to her hastily made shelter. Going back inside, she took a knife from their packed bag and ripped through a blanket, using strips of it to tie her mother's leg instead of the rope.
Finally, she stepped back outside, took off her gloves, and again pulled in a block of ice from the distance. This time, rather than throwing it, she melted and froze the water so as to shape it, forcing herself to mold the ice as though it were clay, while her hands trembled and went numb with the cold. Though it seemed to take hours, she eventually had a makeshift sled. She put her gloves back on, and then covered the sled with one of the pelts her mother had packed, before tying their game bag and supply bag to it. Then, she brought down the shelter, and pulled her mother up over her shoulder, settling her down on the sled before she tied the last free lengths of rope in tight, secure knots on either side of her belt. Kya picked up her lamp, and set out on foot, dragging her mother and their bags behind her.
She didn't try to figure out how much time passed as she forced herself through the snow. Bending helped her move the sled, kept the snow out of her eyes and allowed her to walk along without sinking. But there was very little light, and her only guides back were the glaciers and the entrenched knowledge of which direction led to the ocean. Eventually, she let herself hum, first the song about the polar dog, then "Secret Tunnel." She didn't care what happened, as long as she could just keep walking.
While the clouds above grew light enough that she could guess that at some point it had been day, by the time they darkened again, the storm only seemed to be getting worse. Kya had to stop more often, out of breath, needing more handfuls of snow, needing to check that her mother was all right. Still, it must have been hours after the sky began to darken before she finally stopped, and used bending to create another makeshift shelter. Kya led her mother inside, then buried their bags in snow before entering the shelter herself to check on her mother's wound.
When she lifted the cloth again, her heart dropped.
"Kya." Her mother's voice was weak, but insistent. "I'll be fine."
Kya didn't answer. She bent more water around her mother's leg, but while this helped close the wounds, it didn't relieve the swelling, and only temporarily relieved the heat that now seemed to radiate from her mother's skin.
"Mom." Kya keeps her eyes forward, water still moving under her hands. "I don't think it's that much farther, I could go by myself and tell them -"
"No -" It was as sharp as her mother could manage it.
"Mom, I made you bring me -"
"You didn't make me do anything," Katara interrupted again. "Wrap it up and we'll wait until the storm passes. This isn't going to kill me, Kya."
Maybe it wouldn't, but Kya knew if an infection went untreated with something more than her own healing abilities (as good as she was for someone her age, she was no match for this), then by the time they did get back, she could lose her leg. Or worse. But for the moment, Kya obeyed her mother, wrapping up her wounded leg again. She wandered out to bring in a cup of snow and a small portion of fresh meat, which her mother accepted, though reluctantly, which put Kya further on edge. Still, she took up the coverings they had brought, and again settled next to her mother, wrapping the furs around them both and trying to ignore how little she seemed to need it when it seemed her mother was beginning to get feverish.
It lasted several hours. The sides of the shelter rocked, so Kya occasionally lifted her hands, turning the walls to ice to try to still them. Her mother became warmer, and though her eyes closed, Kya couldn't sleep next to her. Every half hour she got up, washed her mother's leg with water, cooled her skin and healed the wounds a little further, but it didn't seem to stop the infection.
After she had done this for a sixth time, Kya curled up next to her mother again, but didn't draw up any of the covers.
"I wanted to do this because I was scared."
Her mother's eyes fluttered open, though her response was a dim, "Mmm…"
"I'm scared of all this, and I didn't want to be. I thought if I was scared of what could happen out here, I couldn't be like you. I'm not really like you and I'm not like Dad…"
"Kya, no -"
"Mom, I have to go now."
She stood, her mother's hand still reaching for her as she walked away. Kya opened their bag, and collected everything she could find that would burn well enough - the remaining jerky, loose cloth, she even snapped off the handles of their tools. After piling it up in the middle of their shelter, she brought in what remained of the oil, pouring a small portion over the pile, and then placing the jar holding the rest at her mother's side. Finally, she took her mother's lamp, looked in it, and poured part of the oil into the jar, leaving only a small amount inside.
"The lamp will last for two hours. When it goes out, light this." She put the flint rocks down next to the jar. Her mother didn't say anything, and Kya looked up, to the roof of their shelter. Then, with one swift movement, she blasted a hole through the top of it.
"When you light that, it'll send up smoke. That's how they'll see you."
"Kya, I said no -"
Kya moved over to her, and knelt down, touching her nose to her mother's cheek.
"See you later."
"Kya -"
But Kya rose from the ground, grabbed her own lamp, and left the shelter, caving in the entrance behind her.
Outside, it was so cold that even with her gloves on, she could barely feel her hands. Her fingers seemed frozen, wrapped around the handle to her lamp, but she walked forward, counting her paces, this time trying to keep track of time, to know how long she had left her mother. How long it would take them to get back to her. To know exactly how to tell them where to find her. The sky stayed dark, and though she could keep the snow away from her eyes and face, she couldn't do anything about the wind, or about the cold that sliced into her shoulder, which she had ignored this whole time. She couldn't go back for something to cover it, and so continued to ignore it. Soon it seemed to go numb, too.
But though she couldn't feel her fingers, they still held the lamp. Though her legs grew weak, she still walked.
No matter how scared she was, Kya did not freeze, or shatter into pieces.
Seventeen thousand, six hundred paces later, Kya saw pinpricks of light in the distance.
Two hundred more, and she heard a voice calling out. Her numb feet finally tripped over each other, and Kya fell into the snow, her lamp rolling into the snow beside her.
-
Aliqa couldn't hear above the roaring waves, and couldn't understand what was happening. She only wanted to return to her father. But as she clung to the side of his kayak, she nearly overturned it, and no matter how much her father tried to pull her out, the water would not let her go. If her father did not return, the food they had caught would never reach the villagers, who could starve before anyone else could make it back.
Some say in order to save the village, Aliqa's father took his knife, and cut off her fingers, leaving her to drown. Others claim the sea grew so cold that Aliqa's hands froze and snapped off her wrists. But though she was pulled down by the tide, Aliqa still tried to swim, still tried to follow the shadow of her father's boat. And when the water grew heavy enough to crush her, and she could no longer follow, her will still broke through. Her fingers turned into seals and fish, the first that followed her father all the way back to the shore. So determined not to leave her village, though Aliqa stayed in the ocean, the fish and the arctic and tiger seals all sprang from her hands, and fed the village and its descendants until this day. So long as hunters respect Aliqa and her will, they need not make the journey she did, and the waters will be alive and full.
-
"Wait -" Jinora asked, "What happened to her?"
"Well, her uncle picked her up right where she fell, and she told them where her mother was." Kya looked down to Jinora. "And just like she'd said, the fire and smoke let them find her, even in the storm."
"So they were both all right?"
"Her mother took a while to use both legs again, but yes, they were both fine."
"Is it dangerous in the South Pole?"
"Sometimes, but it can be dangerous anywhere, sweetheart. I have a few stories about this city, too -"
"I think," Pema said quietly, behind them, "That dinner will be ready soon."
The laundry had all been pinned up, but Pema was sitting on a rock a few feet from them, her eyes on Kya. Her voice made Jinora start.
"Mom?"
"Go ahead inside, Jinora. We'll come in a minute."
Jinora looked at her mother for a moment, but then straightened, and stood up. "Thank you for the story, Aunt Kya," she said politely, as she had many times before. Kya nodded, and Jinora headed off in the direction of the temple.
Once she'd left, both women moved to stand. Kya moved to help Pema, but Pema waved her off.
"Really, I'm not even that far along yet," she insisted.
"All right then," Kya answered, cheerfully enough, though she did take the moment to pick up the empty laundry basket.
"I am sorry about that Water Tribe story," she told Pema, as they began to walk back in the direction of the temple. "She didn't tell me it scared her."
"I don't know if she really knows it does," Pema replied, sounding a little resigned. "Not until about ten minutes before bed, anyway."
"No, I know what it's like," Kya answered. "That story always scared me, too."