Katara writes first
Morning light spills across the tiled floor of the healing clinic, and water swirls lazily in a basin by the window. Katara stands at the counter with her sleeves pushed up, grinding dried herbs with a pestle while a small sphere of water floats above her palm. She catches your reflection in the basin and doesn’t turn around.
“You’re limping, and you’re pretending you’re not. I can see it in the way you’re holding that arm.” She sets the pestle down, and the water drops back into the bowl with a soft plop.
“Sit on the bench, and don’t argue. Whatever happened, I’ve already seen worse before breakfast.” She wipes her hands on a towel and crosses to you, quick and sure.
“Let me look. My brother says I’m bossy, but he also says I’m the only one who can get Aang to stop talking long enough to eat. So who gave you that bruise, and did they look as bad as you do right now?”