Katara smiles awkwardly
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A Bird Could Love a Fish



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Under the Rain

ABCLAF Logo This Kataang one-shot takes place in The Headband.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Happiness

His hands are grasping the reins of the sky bison, and he pulls on them ever so gently and casts a look behind him, gazing at the scene. The breeze playing with her hair loopies attracts his attention as if demanding it. Her expression is serene and beautiful, like that of a young princess on her wedding day to inevitably become a queen—

He can't help it.

He sniggers quietly to himself, aware of the little joke he just made.

With a twirl on his fingers, he wipes off the sweat that dots his brow. It's funny, how hot the Fire Nation can be, even without meaning to. He snorts. He won't let any discomforts distract him from her.

Though her eyes are closed, he can already imagine the blueness behind them, almost a cornflower blue. No.

More vibrant.

Nothing can explain the mix of feelings within him—ranging from love to pleasure to naughty thoughts to joy to hope to love—as he watches her sleep, her chest rising and falling.

She and her brother lie there, sleeping, the scarlet cascade of the cloaks that surrounds them both fluttering gently in the wind. A wide smile plays around the corners of his mouth as he lifts his hands to produce another current of wind that keeps the cloud around them tight.

Mere hours ago, he lay on a beach black with soot, thinking of how he would be dead, knowing that he would be. And they found him.

Somehow, they found him . . .

And the other girl. Toph. Toph, too, is fast asleep, one arm dangerously hanging from the side of the saddle, and he wonders if it would be proper to clamber down from the sky bison's head and correct it. He shakes his head; he knows that Toph, of all people, won't fall. She's too sturdy for that. Too rock-solid, and he admires the young Earthbender for it.

". . . like you always say, Toph . . . like a rock," he murmurs, and he grins.

Oh, and Momo. Can't forget about Momo. The bat lemur, wings folded carefully about the body, lies there on the seat to his left, the little black-and-white rump in the air, snoozing as peacefully as a hibernating badger mole, that is, if it wasn't for the sudden chirrups and purrs Momo makes, nor for the random splaying of the limbs. The scene is so comical he is forced to utter a small laugh, not enough to awaken anyone, but enough to keep his inner humor at bay.

Inner humor.

From what he can remember, not even two days ago—though that was weeks, months—he doesn't even know by this point—he was more concerned with keeping his love for Katara at bay.

He wonders idly whatever happened to the guru.


She's awake. He pulls in the clouds one last time and welcomes another day with his one true love.


His true happiness.

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