attackfish

Katara left her Gran Gran’s tent when the moon rose, pulling the sleeves of her parka low over her hands. Hama stood on top of the low ice wall around the camp, sending icicle after icicle at a leather target, waiting for her student, and Katara swallowed. Gran Gran told her stories about how when she came to the South Pole, there had been tons of students, and tons of waterbenders to teach them. Katara wished that was still the way things were. She hated being Hama’s last hope.

She shuffled her way up the steps to the top of the wall. Hama folded her arms and let the icicles she had thrown into the target melt. “Why do you insist on climbing the stairs?” she grumbled at her student. “Boost yourself up on the ice like a proper bender.”

Katara climbed the rest of the way up the steps. She couldn’t wait for winter.

Winter was supposed to be the worst time of the year, when there was no sun, and the winds howled around, and no one could leave their tents long enough to hunt, or learn to bend, but winter was when their dad was home.

He had to go farther and farther away from the tribe every year to find food, and it took longer for him to come home. Someday, he might not come home at all.

And then winter would be the worst time of year.

Except even then, at least she wouldn’t have to deal with Hama.