The winds of the southern arctic were rough and biting. Zuko kept his hood up and shivered uselessly. The cold was keener than he remembered and seeped into his bones. The palace servants had wrapped him in furs and skins to keep back the frigid temperatures. None in the royal household were pleased with his decision to travel. He was too old, they stated. Too old and frail and why should he travel anywhere? He was the Firelord; let others come to him.

But the years had blessed Zuko with quiet patience and a will that was unbreakable. Uncle would have been proud.

His guide, a White Lotus member, led his polardog mount through the compound gates. More members approached and helped the aged Firelord down from his seat. His joints creaked audibly, a sound that set the younger faces on edge. It was certainly not a sound Zuko had ever gotten used to.

"You shouldn't be out in the cold, my Lord," a senior White Lotus said. "You'll catch your death."

Zuko smiled. "Death has already caught me. It just doesn't know it yet."

They led him along, past large huts and training grounds. The smoke rising from the chimneys were inviting. The smells of cooking seal blubber were sharp in the air. A wave of memory hit Zuko and he reeled with it.

…walking down the ramp of his ship, eyeing the frightened peasants before him. Among that pathetic lot would be his goal. He had searched for three years but now finally an end seemed within reach. He would capture the Avatar…

There was a hand placed on his shoulder.

"My Lord? Are you alright?"

Zuko stared into the young man's face. There was an old white scar running along the lad's lip. Zuko took a sharp intake of breath and wiped his face from the tear that had fallen. He patted the boy's shoulder. "I'm fine," he said firmly and pressed on.

The building they entered was large and homely. Zuko admired the decorations on the wall, furs and hats and ancient weapons. They had him sit on a stool, the only chair in the room. The southern tribe usually sat on cushions or the bare floor but they were afraid he could reach that far down. Zuko was prepared to agree with them there.

A man and woman approached him. "We're so honoured to have you come, Firelord."

Zuko grinned at them both. "At least this once let the honour be mine. Thank you for having me."

They both assured him that no, the honour was theirs. Zuko did not push it; honour was something he knew far to well. It pleased him to let others carry it for a change.

But then his mind left matters of honour as they introduced him to one he had come to see.

She strutted through the far door, bobbing on confident feet; strangely it was not incongruous with her stature. This child knew who she was, believed in what she was and if such an attitude troubled others they would have to be the ones to change, not her.

Zuko got to his feet and found he could hardly stand. He wobbled for a moment before someone grabbed him and held him upright. The little girl walked up to him and extended a hand.

"I'm Korra and I'm the Avatar."

A promise. He had made it almost six years ago to an old friend. He never forgot that day, never forgot the moment Aang had left. How could he? But he had promised Aang that he would meet him again. No matter what it took, no matter where he would have to travel, Zuko would 'hunt' down the Avatar one more time.

Why? This girl wasn't Aang. Didn't talk like Aang, didn't walk like Aang, wasn't even the same gender as him. But it was him; the man that had become like a brother to him was inside this little girl somewhere. A part of his spirit was in hers. And for that it didn't matter that they were generations apart, or that this was his first time meeting her. Zuko already felt connected to this girl, knew that however brief their friendship might be, it would still be strong.

He took the little girl's hand and felt his heart overflow with something he could only describe as coming home.

"My name is Zuko," he told her. "And it's very nice to meet you."