Katara slips between clouds of fish and streams of wind. She bounces between hot pockets of air and the cool barriers of reef that populate the ocean floor, whirling beneath and around her to create a quilt of color blanketing the ocean floor. There is something pushing down on her - perhaps a sailboat with soft wood that bends to the will of the waves - but it doesn't feel physical.

It brushes against Katara, a pounding pain that grips her temple and threatens to rip something within her.

Then, a dolphin gently pushes her forward, bouncing among the waves and she floats back up towards another sea of blue before it envelopes her and she forgets.

The feeling has a habit of returning, either attacking her in an onslaught of pain or beginning as a light nudge against her temple. This time it comes suddenly and Katara feels something scrabbling at her throat. She feels her skull caving in on itself again and the pressure that surrounds her breaking.

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It takes a while for her to remember - to separate herself from sky from sea, remember the divide between them. She must come to terms with the limits of her own abilities, how both the endless depths of air and water must not intersect and how a reflection can be a mirage.

I am not Aang. I cannot be both, she realizes.

Thus, Katara makes peace with her own limits, just as she had once before. The endless aching in her skull and in her heart finally stop.

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Instead, she takes the opportunity to explore. While Karate will always miss the seals of her homeland, she thinks that swimming next to whales five times the size of her tribe's largest canoe is a novelty in it's own right. She ducks far beneath the light to scuttle next to crabs at the ocean bottom and races the baby turtles that crawl lazily from the shore.

More importantly, though, Katara watches. She sees how tribes of people scurry about on the islands. The few that come to greet her set about with determined expressions and traps for the fish. They push out onto the waves in familiar canoes and Katara feels an ache. She ducks down and wraps herself in seaweed and her own saltwater tears.

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Katara resurfaces days later to crashing wind and the remains of a broken boat. A young boy is crying near the water's edge and something within her begins to burn, so contrary to the typically mellow temperature of the water surrounding her.

The crashing waves break against the wood of the boat and split its remains into shells. She dives deeper into herself and curls inward into the lulling waves. Katara lets herself get swept away, the unable to brave her own turmoil any longer.

It is years after this self-imposed exile that Katara reluctantly resurfaces. She's unsure as to what it is that woke her, but a persistent feeling causes her to float purposefully towards the light. There is a manta ray at her back, nudging her with its tail. Katara momentarily considers the indulgence before focusing back on the shore.

There, she sees a child with the typical glossy hair and tan skin she once grew used to watching beneath her waters.

Katara carefully directs the little girl back towards the shore.

The child doesn't listen and Katara pulls her closer and takes the opportunity to cradle her within her arms. It's been so long since she's held something living, breathing. Something that doesn't quite belong to her world of waves and the pull of the tides and whirlpools.

She swings the girl around in her arms and retreats as soon as she feels footsteps on the sand coming perilously closer.

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Katara sees the little girl more, after that encounter. Sometimes, she lifts her up on the waves and rocks her comfortingly. Other times, she despairs at the child's tears and attempts to envelop her, to wash them away.

She revels in the happiness this child brings her. She hopes nothing will take it away.

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Katara watches the years pass by. The plentiful group of fish that once swam near the shores of the island, in he shallows of the waters, have lessened. Fewer creatures scuttle at the bottom, bustling around in search of food and adventure. This part of the ocean feels emptier and more barren.

Katara attempts to coax them back with tempting, slow currents and eye-catching reefs, but there is little she can do beyond that.

Thus, she worries. Though there has been a steady decline in creatures around this island, it has never been so obvious and has done little to affect the islanders. In time, they will begin to notice the true extent of the issue.

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Meanwhile, her little girl's hair grows longer, her eyes sharpen, and her sense of adventure widens.

Katara realizes she has, once again, become a parent after the child kneels on her shore and washes away her anger and in her waters for the third time in a single moon. She watches over her when she ventures too far from the barrier of the reefs and into the darker waters.

They won't be able to keep her here, she thinks. Those eyes long for freedom.

Though Katara long ago realized she no longer has the ability tell time like she once did when she was human, she is wise enough to recognize a countdown when she sees one.

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Later, Katara watches as this young girl, scarcely a few years older than she was when she met Aang, when Korra discovered the true unrest in Republic City, skates forward on the blue marble of the frothing waves. She sees glimmers of herself in her smile.

She remembers her own adventure - the boy and the iceberg and the journey of a lifetime - and thinks that it's finally time.

This girl will accomplish great things, she thinks. And she will get to watch it happen.