The boy nodded. "Yeah. Actually, I've got letters here for all of you." He patted the bag slung over his shoulder, making everyone's eyes light up.
***
A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the large central bonfire. Some mothers read the letters from their husbands along with their children, while others read them alone before sharing them with their kids, their faces lit by both relief and longing.
Katara held her father's letter with trembling hands, her eyes brimming with tears as she read. The anger that burned in her chest over him leaving—over him abandoning her and Sokka—still pulsed within her, but knowing 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 momentarily lifted, allowing her to breathe a little easier.
Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she looked around. The other women were equally moved—some clutching their children tightly as they read, others weeping quietly. Even the children, normally so rowdy, were silent, some with tears in their eyes.
Her eyes fell on Sokka, sitting beside her. He still held his spear, but now his gaze was glued to the letter, his hands gripping the paper as if afraid it might vanish. Katara knew him well enough to understand that he had read and reread those lines many times, memorizing every phrase.
Then her gaze shifted to the person who had made all this possible. He said his name was Ikari, and now he lay on the snow, arms folded behind his head, a serene smile curving his lips. With his eyes closed, he seemed completely at ease, as though the frigid South Pole air were nothing more than a summer breeze. There was something hypnotic about his calmness, a confidence that seemed to defy the world around him.
Katara found herself studying him intently. He was so different from Sokka. While her brother was—put simply—clumsy, with abrupt movements and expressions swinging between frustration and stubbornness, Ikari exuded an almost magnetic tranquility.
'He seems so sure of himself. 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 close to her age she really knew — but something about Ikari made her think of the stories the village women told, laughing, about 'heart thieves' who could charm with nothing but a smile.
"Have you figured something out?" Sokka's voice broke into her thoughts so abruptly that Katara nearly jumped.
"W‑what?" She turned toward her brother, feeling her cheeks flush.
"I'm asking if you figured something out. You haven't stopped staring at him!" Sokka said, nodding toward Ikari.
Katara blushed fiercely and turned her gaze to the fire. "I wasn't staring at anything!" she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended.
Sokka snorted, folding the letter with exaggerated care before tucking it into his tunic. "Tsk. I always have to handle everything," he muttered, rising with spear in hand, striding over to Ikari with determined steps. "Hey, you!" he called, suspicion thick in his tone. "Care to explain why the village men trusted you with these letters? Are you some kind of messenger or what?"
"Sokka!" Gran‑Gran intervened, casting a sharp look at her grandson. "Don't be rude to the young man!" She turned to Ikari, softening her expression. "I apologize for my grandson. We're not used to hosting outsiders."
Ikari opened his eyes, the calm smile still lingering on his lips, as if Sokka's attitude didn't bother him in the slightest. "It's quite alright, ma'am. Your grandson has every right to be wary. We're at war, after all. It's only natural to distrust even one's own shadow."
Then, he did something that made time seem to 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 let your guard down, Sokka. I would never hurt the family of my friends."
"Y‑you—did you just fly?!" Sokka exclaimed, stepping back, eyes wide, the spear slipping from his fingers and sinking into the snow.
Katara brought a hand to her mouth, her heart pounding. Had she seen that right? Wasn't it just an illusion? He had just controlled the air, hadn't he? Only an airbender could do that! The idea seemed impossible, straight out of the stories Gran-Gran used to tell about the Air Nomads, all wiped out generations ago. But there he was, real, defying everything she believed to be possible.
Everyone around was just as stunned as she was. Except for the children, who, unaware of the weight of the revelation, burst into excitement at seeing him "fly." Some even ran toward Ikari, ignoring their mothers' attempts to hold them back. "How did you do that?" a little girl asked, her eyes shining. "Can I fly too?"
Ikari chuckled—light and genuine—and ruffled her hair gently. "Of course you can! I'll teach you later."
Gran‑Gran, who until then had stood frozen in shock, rose slowly. Her eyes 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 guys really are isolated out here, huh? Let me introduce myself again, then. I'm Ikari, the last airbender... at least, as far as I know." He lowered his head in a humble bow, the gesture a stark 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.