it's my duty to help people

The problem with meditation, Korra thinks, is that there's absolutely no way to track progress. For weeks now, she's done her best to set aside a couple of hours each day to meditate. Sometimes, it's in the middle of her apartment. Other times, she treks out into the countryside, eager to feel the wind on her skin. But no matter where she goes, Korra feels herself dipping heavily in one direction or the other. Either she finds herself distracted by little itches she never noticed before... or she falls asleep.

Today, she falls asleep.


The air today is unusually still for this time of year. It drives the temperature of the Southern Arctic down, until most families are tucked away inside their houses, nursing fires and huddled together for warmth. With the arrival of her uncle and his family to the South Pole, it almost feels like the weather is being accommodating for the arrival, Korra watching skeptically as she sees her uncle roam through the streets with his never-changing expression. She knows, from watching her dad, that uncle's relationship with the family is a strained one.

Personally, she's always thought of her cousins as the most annoying part of these visits. They're just... kinda creepy. Even though Korra has never been one for staying still, she's doing her best to be a good girl today, glowering at her twin cousins as they simply stare from the other side of the house, whispering among themselves about how poor the South is in comparison to their home.

Korra wishes she could just throw sea prunes in their face.

"Korra," a voice calls out from the next room over. "Korra, it's Katara. I've got someone here to see you."

"Yes, Master Katara?" With a burst of fire underneath her hands, Korra leaps up onto her feet, eager for a chance to distance from her cousins. Smiling as she pushes open the door, Korra's expression fades when her eyes suddenly fix on a swath of red and yellow.

As she stares, Avatar Aang leans down slightly, smiling from cheek to cheek.

"Hello, Korra."


As Korra wakes, a burst of wind rises up around her, whirling and bringing her quickly to her feet. Clothes clinging to her in a cold sweat, Korra glances quickly around, first to the left, then to the right, her heart straining against her chest.

"Whoa," she says, before her shoulders slump slightly as she drops her face into her hands, massaging her eyes.

After Korra's disastrous encounter with angry civilians on the streets, she's spent the vast majority of her free time in the countryside. When she's in a sparsely populated area, it's easier to get away with bending to her heart's content without being noticed, and easier to concentrate as well. She's taught Naga how to do most of the lookout for her, keeping an eye open and howling if anyone approaches. It's a system that benefits both of them, taking off some of the edge for Naga, who needs to hunt, while also giving Korra the time to meditate and practice.

The funny thing about airbending is how much easier it became to master after her chakras were primed for it. (At least, she thinks it's her chakras — she can't be completely sure, and definitely didn't pay enough attention in lessons to know.) Korra's good at learning by example, and after having lived on Air Temple Island for so many months and watching Tenzin's kids race around, she has some idea of what she's supposed to try and do.

Today, she's working on an air scooter, spinning air into a sphere that she sits on top of and racing around the field in a circle, unintentionally flattening the crops underneath her in the process. She's testing out the various sizes of the sphere and how they might impact her movement, when suddenly Naga howls in the distance, signaling someone's approach.

Wincing, she quickly disperses the air, and only after her feet are on the ground does she notice the perfect circle she's imprinted into the crops.

"Oops."