by Tahiwi Trenor-Hunt

Zuko smiled softly, completely absorbed in the image. ‘He must have had this picture of you and your mother. She looks young here. I can see where you got your cheekbones and your height from, Kiyoi. She’s very beautiful.’

Kiyoi looked at the sketch and let out a quiet, choked sound that turned into a soft laugh.

‘He, Zuko,’ she corrected, reaching out to take the sketch from him. ‘This is of my father and me. My mother sketched this. We had a wood burn made of it back home.’

‘Wah-‘ Zuko blinked.

Herkesin bir tarzı var, kendine has,

Kimi uyanık geçinir, kimi kurnaz...

Seni görmedim diye bu bahar,

İçimde bin türlü duygunun isyanı var.

Turnaların gökyüzünü sevdiği kadar,