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It was the middle of November and the villagers were beginning to grow restless as they waited to greet the daughter of their new chief. They stood and turned to each other in the square as the summer sun beat down relentlessly on their fur-lined parkas. The southern winds carried their chatter all the way to the igloo where Kya lay, howling at her ears. The light that peeked through the cracks danced on top of her eyelids and even the familiar flame of the candle at her bedside started to crackle in anticipation.
Kya, however, was still tired and would not be swayed by Mother Earth’s desperate attempts to wake her. She turned on her side to block out the elements when a sharp wail pierced through her dream-like state and awakened her from her slumber. Sighing deeply, she opened her eyes to look at the source of the incessant crying.
Katara.
The family had decided on the name to honor Hakoda’s late father, in keeping with the tribe’s namesake tradition. The revered hunter and former chieftain had passed away just under four months ago with Hakoda taking his place under the guidance of the esteemed Council of Elders.
As Kya tended to their fussy baby, she couldn’t help but agonize over all the changes her family had been through in the last year. The birth of her and Hakoda’s firstborn followed by Katak’s passing had brought on a whirlwind of emotions for the newlyweds. She worried for her husband and the onslaught of responsibilities that he was taking on in his father’s place. She worried for her tribe and this never-ending war that claimed more and more lives everyday. Finally, she worried for her children and the uncertain futures that lay ahead of them.
Growing up in the outskirts, Kya was not untouched by the calamities of war. The Fire Nation’s incessant attacks on the South Pole had reduced her home to ashes, leaving her an orphan at the tender age of sixteen. It was the late chieftain who offered her shelter and protection after Hakoda had found her during a patrol. Kya found herself misty-eyed at the memory of her father-in-law and the hospitality she received from the community that she now called family.
Despite these troubling times, the villagers would not let the war take more from them than it already had. Today was just one of their many close-knit traditions that Kya had the honor to participate in over the years. Every birth, they gather to shake the newborn’s hand and call on the spirits to bless their children. Kya was usually delighted to take part in the festivities, however, two weeks postpartum, she would much rather sleep in than see anyone else’s face.
Any face but Katara’s. Kya cradled her in her arms, admiring her just once more before she had to share her with the rest of the world. Sparkling sapphire eyes stared back at her own, blissfully unaware of the worries that clouded her mother’s mind. Kya closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Katara’s soft temple, secretly pleading to the spirits that her babies may live to see a world without war and suffering.
After her baby was bundled up to her liking, Kya began to get herself ready, fastening the strings of her boots when she heard the voices of her husband and mother-in-law draw near. Kanna was the first to enter with a faint smile that Kya hadn’t seen since her father-in-law passed away. The matriarch greeted Kya with a squeeze then, gently caressed Katara’s cheek. Miraculously, the newborn didn’t cry as if she recognized Kanna’s touch through her namesake’s memory. At least, that’s what Kya liked to think.
Hakoda followed close behind, entering the room with a roguish grin on his face and a precocious toddler in tow. Kya couldn’t help but giggle at her husband’s playful expression, while Sokka glowered down at the suspicious baby in his mother’s arms.
“How are you feeling, my love?” Hakoda asked.
“Very tired,” Kya answered, yawning. “Can’t we do this tomorrow?”
Hakoda laughed. “No, I’m afraid everyone’s already waiting for us.”
Kya sighed.
“We’ll finish before lunch this time, I promise.”
She rolled her eyes jokingly, smiling at Katara. “Are you ready, sweetie?”
Katara squealed cheerfully as if she could understand to everyone’s delight. Well… almost everyone. Sokka’s glare only intensified.
“It appears the young one is just as excited to meet the villagers as they are,” Kanna chimed in. “Come along now, we can’t keep them waiting.”
Kya followed her family outside to the village center where everyone was already gathered. One by one, villagers of all ages came up to Kya and greeted Katara with a shake of her tiny hand as the family weaved through the crowd. Kya tried her best to keep her fatigue at bay as friends and neighbors alike complimented her precious newborn endlessly.
Just when she thought her cheek muscles would betray her, they finally arrived at the firepit where Bato stood to conduct the ritual. As the chief’s right-hand, Bato took up the mantle of the spiritual mediator, tasked with appeasing the spirits, performing hunting rituals and blessing the children.
Hakoda handed Sokka to his mother before embracing his childhood friend and joined Kya at her side. Kya’s smile faltered on seeing Bato dressed in all his regalia, donning a parka made from the fur of a snow leopard caribou complete with a white and blue wooden mask carved in the likeness of a bear. It had taken some getting used to as smaller settlements like Fulmar’s Harbour, where Kya grew up, had lost much of the spiritual traditions that the capital kept alive. Despite this not being the first time the young mother saw it up close at Sokka’s naming ceremony, the sight was still startling for the young mother nonetheless. Unlike Kya, Katara wasn’t prepared at all and burst into wailing tears as soon as he bent down to greet her. Kya apologized profusely, bouncing the newborn in her arms to calm her down.
Bato chuckled, “It’s quite alright. She’s definitely not the first one.” He nodded at Sokka. The villagers started to laugh as well, recalling their children’s chaotic presentations over the years.
After the laughter had died down, Bato raised his staff to signal that the ceremony was about to begin.
“People of Wolf Cove!” Bato cried out, “Today, we are gathered to celebrate the arrival of the newest member of our tribe, Katara!”
“We welcome you sister Katara!” the crowd called out in unison.
Bato began, “Katara, named after Katak, the Bear Chief. It is said a hunter is not deemed great for what he could provide for himself, but what he provided for others. A successful yet humble hunter himself, Katak rose to the ranks of chiefdom through his pure heart and sheer generosity. Revered for his wisdom and astute observational skills, Katak shouldered the weight of this tribe’s losses when enemies of the South began raiding and ransacking settlements across the Pole. Despite the growing unrest, he continuously opened the doors of Wolf Cove to all and kept the hearths of our homes and our hearts lit with his never-ending warmth.”
A steward stepped forward with a small wooden bowl and Bato dipped his fingers in its black ink. “Sister Katara,” he began, drawing a crescent moon on her forehead. “May the Moon and Ocean spirits bless you with the courage and wisdom of your namesake. May they bless you with long life, health and happiness. May you never forget your people no matter where the winds take you. May you bless us with your gifts and talents in return.”
He took the babe from her mother’s arms and held her over his head as was custom. Kya watched as Katara took in all the faces before her with a miraculous, almost knowing, silence.
“To Katara!” He proclaimed.
“To Katara!” the villagers repeated, breaking out into applause.
Bato handed the child back to Kya before she started to cry again. Kya held Katara in her arms as she and Hakoda turned to face the villagers, cheering still. The lingering effect of Bato’s words had brought peace to Kya, silencing the worries that were swirling in her mind.
Katara woke up from what felt more like a memory than a dream. The warmth of her mother’s parka, her hair that was always coming undone, the lilt of her voice. Every single detail had felt so… real. There was no way Katara could have remembered such an early moment in her life unless the spirits wanted her to. Unless she wanted her to. Whenever Katara had tried to remember her mother after she passed, her memories always led her back to that fateful day. No matter how hard she concentrated, she could hardly remember anything else.
Until today.
If it was any other day, Katara probably would have been grateful to regain such a happy memory of her mother. Unfortunately, on special days like today, it just reminded her that her mother wasn't here to celebrate these milestones with her. Her children would never know their grandmother, never hear her laugh, never feel her warmth, never see her smile. Katara felt tears spring to her eyes for all the moments she would never have with her mother. She hunched over and sobbed, hiding her pain from the unknowing newborn on the cot beside her.
She was so consumed with grief, she hardly noticed her husband enter the room.
“Katara?”
She felt the space on the bed to her left sink as he sat down next to her. She turned to lean on him and cried some more before speaking:
“She’s not here, and I just-” she tearfully got out.
“Hey hey, shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed her shoulder as she wept. “She’s here. She’s always gonna be here.”
Katara brought her hand to the pendant on her neck and felt a wave of calm rush over her. It was as if her mother herself was in the room letting her know he was right. Maybe that was why the spirits gave her that memory. Maybe it was her mother herself, giving Katara a piece of herself to carry with her for the day ahead.
She had stopped crying for some time but remained in Aang’s arms a bit longer until a cry filled the room once more, this time from another child who wanted their mother.
Kya. Kya II. As soon as the midwife told them the newborn was a healthy baby girl, her name came out of Aang’s mouth as if there was no other option. When their son was born shortly after the death of his childhood friend, Katara told him about the tribe’s naming tradition and suggested they honor the late king in a similar fashion. For the birth of their first daughter, he wanted to return the favor.
Aang picked up the newborn and handed her over to Katara. She stared into her matching sapphire eyes and soothed her just like her mother did in her dream.
When her cries finally stopped, the three of them sat there in silence, temporarily forgetting the world outside their walls.
That is, until heavy knocks resounded from the other side of the door. “Aang, is Katara up?” It was Sokka.
Katara rolled her eyes. Leave it to Sokka to be the one to interrupt them, as usual. “Yes, Sokka, I’m up.”
He entered the room with a four-year-old Bumi, taking that as an invitation, knowing full well it wasn’t. Bumi scrambled out of his uncle’s arms and ran to stand in between Katara’s knees. “Mama!”
“Hi Bubu, did you miss me?” She hugged him with her free arm.
Sokka gazed lovingly at the tiny family before casting them a confused stare.
“Uh, why aren’t you dressed? The village is already starting to gather ‘round the fire pit.”
She sheepishly looked down at her rumpled white nightgown, hair surely sticking out in all directions. “I was... having a moment. Thinking about Mom, that’s all,” she murmured softly. “We’ll be out soon.”
Sokka's eyes softened and he came up to her and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
“Take your time,” he assured her, hauling Aang up by the shoulders, who in turn lifted Bumi in his arms. “But not too much time!” Sokka added quickly. “Just enough time, but no rush-”
“Alright, big brothers, let’s go,” Aang directed, hurtling towards the door with Bumi and Sokka in tow so Katara could have some privacy.
Once alone, Katara looked down at the baby to find her staring back, completely undisturbed by the short-lived appearance of her male relatives. “Mama, are you ready to meet everybody?”
She sneezed in response and Katara took this as a cue to swaddle the newborn in furs and quilts before seeing to herself, changing out of her sleepwear into her inner layers, outer layers, and finally her trusty parka.
As she bent down to tie up her winter boots one by one, Katara heard her grandmother’s voice just beyond the walls.
“Katara? Is everything alright?”
“Gran-Gran! Yes, of course!”
Kanna moved through the entrance this time a bit slower than in Katara’s dream, or her mother’s memory she still wasn’t sure, but her smile was just the same, if not slightly wider now.
Katara straightened, matching her grandmother’s smile. “Sorry, I know we’re running late. But I’m almost… ”
Her voice died down as her grandmother put her arms around her in a tender embrace. She stood there in shock for a millisecond before hugging her back as tightly as she could.
Kanna pulled away, still holding onto Katara's elbows. “Do you know the meaning behind the naming ceremony?”
“Uh, so we don’t forget... those we’ve lost?” Katara answered questioningly because she thought it was obvious. Wasn't it obvious?
“Yes... but it’s more than that,” Kanna replied. “The naming ceremony is first and foremost, a celebration of life. Not just of new life, but past lives too. Through a name, the spirits of the deceased live on in our children in a never-ending cycle.” Katara looked down morosely, touching her mother’s necklace. “It's unique to the South, you know,” Kanna added.
Katara looked up once more. “It is?” she asked.
Kanna nodded serenely. “In the North, names are more conceptual, given to children based on their meaning rather than the people who last carried them.” She took Katara’s hands in hers. “This is how the South honors the ones she’s lost. The ones we carry on, like your mother’s mother, Sakari, and your father’s father, K-”
“Katak, the Bear Chief,” Katara replied, finishing her sentence.
“Precisely,” Kanna said, grinning. “Now, are you ready?”
Katara wiped the tears that she didn’t know fell down her cheeks and nodded humbly. She lifted the bundled babe into her arms and followed her grandmother out the door and into the welcoming arms of her people, at last.
“Hi, little Kya!”
“Kya, how are you?”
“Very nice to see you again, Kya!”
Family and friends greeted and shook the two-week-old's hand on her way to the village - now, town more like - center, with Aang trailing behind carrying Bumi, from where he was waiting outside. As their little family got closer to the central firepit, there stood Bato and Hakoda in full conversation, not noticing them yet. Bato was the first to acknowledge them and gestured to her father to turn around.
When he finally saw them, Hakoda’s eyes welled up at the sight of the four of them. He greeted Katara with a hug, smothering his beloved granddaughter in the process before giving Aang a firm clasp on his forearm and taking Bumi from him. Husband and wife made their way onto the makeshift platform next to Bato, who had taken off his mask to greet the newborn.
“One can say I’ve finally learnt my lesson,” he remarked cheekily to Katara, giving Bumi II in the crowd a side eye.
When he stepped back, he donned the carved mask and began the rites that had survived a century of war:
“People of Wolf Cove!” Bato cried out, “We are gathered here today to celebrate our newest arrival and the return of an old friend, Kya!”
“Welcome back, sister Kya!” they responded in unison.
“Kya,” Bato began, “you once came to us, the sole survivor of a fallen settlement. Gone too soon, now you have returned with your granddaughter carrying your name and legacy. A legacy of sacrifice, but also of immense care. Kya stitched the injuries of many here in Wolf Cove, healing all types of wounds, both on the skin and deep in our hearts. Some of those she has touched sit before me today. Quite a few are no longer with us. May we never forget the lives of those we’ve lost during the war, but carry them within us and in the memories of our newest members so they will always know the ones who came before.”
Once more, Bato was presented with the same bowl of black ink that he has dipped his fingers in dozens of times now. “Sister Kya,” he began, drawing an arc on her forehead. “May the Moon and Ocean spirits bless you with the courage and wisdom of your namesake. May they bless you with long life, health and happiness. A daughter of the Southern skies and seas, may you never forget your people are always with you. May you bless us with your gifts and talents in return.”
He took Kya II from Katara’s arms and held her out up to the sky.
“To Kya!” He proclaimed.
“To Kya!” The crowd cheered.
While the baby didn’t cry, Katara could feel tears prickling behind her eyes as a result of Bato’s words.
A daughter of the Southern skies and seas. Katara turned to Aang, who was already looking at her and gave him a smile that matched the one on his face. When Kya was returned to her embrace, Katara felt a sense of calm wash over her and knew that it was the same peace her mother had felt, standing where she stood all those years ago. The birth of their daughter had brought her mother’s memories full circle, the cycle of grief not necessarily ended but transcended into something much more beautiful. A life filled with hope, love and new beginnings.