Avatar: The Last Airbender

Story of the World
Air

Now, about 300 years before the tyranny of King Amu, the earth was not just a barren place, but it was completely desolate. There was absolutely no water, and nothing grew there. There wasn't even any wind. What few animals there were had to travel from far and near to get what they needed, and whatever it was they did need was surely to be in a very short supply anyways. All of the animals there were enormous in size, (although there were a small handful of tiny scavengers) and had long, razor sharp claws and teeth, and it was practically death just to try to kill anything for just a lean scrap of meat off a carcass.

There were birds there, and of course they were enormous in size, with wings stretching twice as long as a grown man (soon to be called greater falcons by the man of the hills), and they had claws as long as an adult human's hand. Their beaks were curved sharp, and they had big golden eyes that shone like the rays of the harsh sun that beat down upon that terrible land. All of them were equally fierce, and they spread terror in the animals below, swooping low above them and picking them off of cliffs, gullies, and the like. But I am not telling the tale of all of these great birds – just one. Her name was Nusair, and she was about to give birth.

Nusair was exactly like all of the other great falcons, large, and similarly vicious. But Nusair was about to have her eggs. Since there were no trees about anywhere, greater falcons had to dig their claws into the dirt and sand below, to make a small hole, where they would lay their eggs and sit upon them, like chickens. This was great profanity among the greater falcons, to sit upon the ground like mere…mere…well, lesser birds. Nusair had to do just that, but instead of complaining, she sat upon her eggs with great proud; her head held high, her brutal, golden eyes scanning the ground for any sort of danger that might come along to steal her babies.

Darkness would fall, and Nusair would fall asleep, but she would always be alert. But not alert enough. One night, along came a sneakier (and slightly larger) form of a long-legged jasper. The jasper was very hungry, and licked its sharp teeth, thinking about Nusair's eggs. It grabbed some empty shells from its storage back in its burrow (from other falcons' eggs that he had stolen) and switched them quickly, hardly ruffling a feather of Nusair's.

Nusair sat there for one year (the approximate amount of time for a baby falcon to hatch) and when it was time for her babies to be hatched, she stood up, but circled her wings around her nest, as to shade her little ones from the beating sun above. She waited for the sun to go by her, then she shifted. Still her babies did not come. Have I done something wrong? she pondered. Why have they not arrived?

Nusair sat there for one more month, when she heard a snickering behind her. Nusair was a quick-thinking bird (as in she could figure things out in a flash) and she let out a great cry as she cracked open the first of 'her eggs'. It was empty, and all that spilled out was some leftover, moldy yolk. She did the same to all, and when she realized that she had been fooled, she flung herself into the air, and came straight down and severely wounded the mocking jasper waiting behind a large sand dune with one gory stab of her beak. Filth! she cried. How could the earth have done this to my children?

Nusair flew into the air, and searched the earth to find the answers she needed to comfort her yearning soul. She searched the earth for 200 years, until, finally at her wits end, she crashed into the earth with a mighty blow, creating enough force to blow away some of the sand on the ground. This gave her an idea. What if there had been wind in the earth? she questioned. Could I have blown my babies to safety? Could I have blown away the enemies that threatened their existence?

And Nusair began to practice. She began to practice moving the air. She moved her wings in a flowing motion, bringing them back, and moving them forward swiftly to create force. She mastered this art, and was soon able to dive and weave and throw sneaky blows at an invisible enemy. She even learned to capture the air and bring it to her feet to control it the way she liked. She could form it into a ball and hurl it anyway she liked. She could create a wall of air that she could thrust at the opponent. So when it was time for her to lay her eggs for the second and last time in her life, she would be ready. Nusair would outsmart the jasper.

Nusair chose a good spot for her eggs, where the sand was warm and easy to mold. She sat there for six months. And darkness came every night, and each time, Nusair was aware that the wily long-legged jasper was watching. And waiting. Soon, she thought. He must strike. And then I will strike back.

While Nusair slept, the jasper limped back to his own den and got the last few shells remains of his store of trickery, and returned to Nusair's nest. What a fool this great bird is, he sneered. And he tiptoed over to where Nusair was sleeping; the eggs in his mouth, and a grin upon his face. He was one pace away from the nest (and the eggs) when Nusair awoke with a grin that matched his own.

"You have stolen my eggs, replaced them with this waste, and deceived the greatest bird that ever walked this damned planet. And for this, you shall finally die," she hissed with great malice. And she rose up, her great wings spread, gathering up all the air that she could, and plunged it forward at the pathetic jasper (who was standing before her, tail between his legs).

The jasper yelped loudly as he was flung back, and landed wrong on his legs. He tried to run away, but he couldn't even get up. His legs were broken. He was trapped.

"Oh, great falcon," he pleaded. "If I promise never to steal your eggs again, will you spare my life? I have a family at home, the same as yours, and I was merely trying to feed them. Food is scarce. You know that."

"Do not lie, jasper, for no animal could love you, not even one of your own kind," spat the falcon.

"True, true," reasoned the jasper. "Then what must I do for you to show mercy to my sorrowful life?"

"You must never steal, or lie again, or I will find you, and you will taste the full fury of my wrath. And never tell any beast what you have seen," she said, watching the jasper's every move, as he inched along the ground.

The jasper tried to find a loophole in this agreement, but could find none, (but of course this deal would be broken in the future) and he sullenly nodded his head and half-limped half-dragged himself back home to his lonely burrow.

Nusair watched him until he was just a speck in the distance, until she heard a small 'chip'. Swinging herself around, she saw for the first time her chicks. There were four. A tear appeared in her eye, and she cared for the babies until they were old enough to fly. Then she taught them her ways of moving the air. They mastered it as quickly as she did, and soon they were all fighting each other for dominancy.

When Nusair finally passed away, each of her children responded differently. One became bitter, and flew up towards the North, where he would send cold winds down that would send a chill down the animals' backs. One went South, and he (sensing his mother's passing as a sign) released warm winds that were comfortable for all. He became the peaceful one. One went East, where she constantly competed with her sister in the West, where they would sometimes sending pleasant, and unpleasant winds against each other, forever battling themselves in ferocious wars, and some times they would tire, and become calm.

This art would not be taught to man, but man would be taught by himself. On that fateful day when Nusair defeated the crafty jasper, there were six pairs of eyes hiding behind a sand dune. They found this art powerful (of course, for it was the first art they'd seen), and became monks, living peacefully in the North, East, South, and West.

Now, we may move forward.