Dislcaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender, nor any of its characters. Though Areida IS mine. Enjoy!
I sat motionless for two hours straight as, just inside the shadow of the long-since abandoned teashop, my village burned.
Cries of pain, rage, and surprise reached my covered ears— allies and enemies alike both feeling the same things. My hands dropped limply into my lap and, after a moment, I forced myself to stand, still keeping my back defensively against the wall as I peered fruitlessly into the darkness and sifting dust. The room was fairly small, the interior housing cluttered, outdated furniture such as chairs and long wooden tables left from the previous owner. In truth, the only sign of life or disturbance throughout the years was the much-abused couch shoved haphazardly into a corner, the lumpy mattress on the floor, a lit candle on the table with my lukewarm cup of chi sitting untouched beside it, and the . . . garbage, so to say, strewn about the floor.
I could smell smoke. How close were they now? A scream of horror erupted outside, what sounded like a few yards away. The pitch told me it was either a very young boy, or a woman. A Kyoshi Warrior?
I felt my heart sink. If it was, indeed, an ally, she was gone now. Fear dissolved into anger, whether in an attempt at self-preservation or a result of mounting adrenalin, I could not be sure. I kicked at the filthy mattress and hopped over it when no movement occurred. "Shit." How could I have been so stupid as to think no one would find me? If not an enemy, then what would any so-called ally do with a strange girl they found hidden in their village? Even more stupid, I could not ignore the brief flutter of hope I'd felt when I imagined they would remember, turn around, and rescue me.
In my five-month stay in this village— in this tiny excuse for a shop I'd deluded myself in calling home— only three people know about me. All of them men. Scratch that— only three people living in this village at current. Some twenty-odd men have been brought here to see me at some point. Those men I have never seen, nor would I wish to see, again. They leave, as they should, unlike the three who brought me here. Almost always drunken, they neglect to tell me their names or offer any further salutation other than waving condoms at me, if they remember to use them. If they remember my existence at all, as they frequently go days before visiting once again.
Idiot. What reason did they have not to flee without me? Just one man alone could easily find another girl to play his pet for a few days. I shook my head to clear it, and scanned the room for exits, not for the first time, though I was never confined before. Six too-high, barred windows with no way to reach them, all facing east, away from the setting sun and, thus, the ever-nearing battle. Nope. Cursing again, I turned to the door. Outside, I could hear someone grunting and falling, smashing into something that made the building's delicate frame shudder. A sudden light accompanied the cloying smoke, which was beginning to creep into the room, and the sharp crackling of fire. The fear was back again in damp beads of sweat at my hairline, for no one could ever again associate that sound with a merry fireplace or warmth.
How many Fire Nation soldiers, having dispatched my every chance at aid or escape, were outside that door? Did they intend to do me harm? Why? Distant battle and fire aside, the air around the shop was deathly quiet. Not daring to believe I was alone again, I bent to pick up the small box I'd hidden beneath the couch. In it contained my pitifully meager payment for all I'd gone through; unless I intended to throw the tin box at someone's head, I found little in the way of weaponry. The candle would only make things worse if— Agni, forbid— whoever was outside could bend fire. A chair, maybe?
Just then, heat erupted beside the door, eating away at the shabby wall like a starving tiger, licking its meal, spewing black, curling smoke like blood. Behind me, the entire far wall burst into flames. Panic and the polluted air choked me instantly, and I dropped to the floor, rubbing furiously at my stinging eyes. I closed them and began to crawl toward the door by feel. Screw the Firebenders— I was getting out of this damn room!
"Come on out Avatar," a voice ordered from behind the door, somehow rising above the noise of the fire. I was so flooded with elation at knowing I moved in the right direction, their words never registered. A man, yes. Not a good sign. "You can't hide forever!" Around me, the roof gave a sharp cry of grief as it began to cave in, pieces of rubble tumbling to the floor around me. I choked again, but continued crawling. My hand bumped something dreadfully hot, and I screamed, jerking backward. "Come out and face me, coward!" The man let out a scream of rage and, soon following, came another crash from the same direction, the direction of the door.
Impossibly, more smoke poured into the damnably small room, blasting my face with unrelenting heat. My body, already awash with sweat, screamed at me to stay where I was, because venturing even another inch meant more heat and burning. I thought I heard a soft sound of surprise amid the popping of glass and crackling fire. Surely, nothing could surprise anyone anymore, right? However, there was no mistaking the sound of boots walking over the fallen door and my eyes flew open to meet my would-be murderer.
I couldn't see anything through the thick haze, just the shadow of an imposing figure standing before me. My eyes stung and had long-since stopped watering— too dry, unlike the rest of my sweat-drenched body. Something made impact, hard, with my shoulder, a foot possibly. I cried out in pain and anger alike. Why the hell would he kick me after all this? "Who are you?" the rough voice demanded. "Where is the Avatar?"
Rather than give me a chance to speak— not that I could— the soldier caught me aggressively, gripping my forearms and dragging me to my feet so quickly my head spun. I closed my eyes, expecting another angry blow, but instead I was swooped up, thrown easily over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He seemed to turn in disorienting, dizzying circles before I realized he was actually moving out of the room and the spinning agony was just my head. I went limp, unable to breathe, even while feeling blessedly sweet air brushing my face and toying with my hair in a blasé manner.
"What is that?" came another voice, unfamiliar to me. Either I blacked out, or we moved fairly quickly away, because I didn't hear it again.
Another voice: "I have this one!" A feminine scream followed.
"Split up," came an order from a female. "This way."
"Sokka?" I was awed at hearing yet another girly voice, and I silently prayed it was an ally, a Kyoshi Warrior. An odd thought struck me: this was a Fire Nation soldier. Was he not my enemy?
I was pulling in shallow breaths, though this was worse in a way, a tease as I fought off the blackness closing in on me. "Uncle, I don't see him," the man rescuing me said. He sounded much younger to me now, almost desperate. "The Avatar is here, though. I know it."
"Who is this, Zuko?"came a gentler voice.
I felt myself fall, though hands never left my waist until I was lying horizontally on something soft. A bed. I coughed, my body aching with the force of it, the sound blocking out the conversation around me. Great, I thought dumbly, I've been bought by another sex addict.
I heard the swishing sound of water in a bucket, felt a cool cloth on my face, my charred clothing, my hair. "I can't stay," the person called Zuko announced urgently. "The Avatar is—"
"Go on," that deep, gentle voice said. A door slammed shut close-by. "You'll be fine," the man told me. "When you wake, we all have tea together before departing."
Tea? I was sick of tea.
Just before the darkness closed in around me, I had a funny stream of thought provoked by the mention of the one called 'Avatar'. I'd heard of him vaguely before, so I knew he was this powerful bender, a myth. What intrigued me, however, was the way people's eyes lit up when they spoke of him, the way he could somehow bend all of the elements, the way he was reincarnated in the next nation after death. A new life.
What didn't make sense was why this Fire Nation soldier and his Uncle were burning down villages in rampant search for a man who'd died over a century ago. He— Roku, as the myths say— could bend his natural element as well as Water, Earth, and Air. If this Roku was a Firebender by nature, why would anyone threaten him by burning down a building? What could fire do to a bender, really? I remembered Zuko calling for the Avatar and was more confused than ever.
Unless . . . somehow, the Avatar was not a natural Firebender anymore . . . a new life.
If I had just one past life, I would wish her a princess, a goddess, a witch, or a house-wife with three loveable curly-haired pests at her ankles. If I had many, I was certain a few would have been men, and I would wish them all kings, warriors, championed riders, or hunters coming home to happy families. Nevertheless, I know I could not compare with a man or anyone of stature. Only the myth of the Avatar displayed such remarkable quality. If I did, indeed, have at least one human life before this, it would be female and, doubtlessly, a whore.