When I was a girl, my mother and father would tell me stories of their travels. They would smile about little details I'd never be able to see properly with my own eyes—the way Uncle Sokka had adored his boomerage or everyone's' reactions when Uncle Zuko had joined them. Dad would tell me bedtime stories about Unagi when he was home. When it was just Mom and me—as it usually was—she would tell me stories about a fortune teller, a traveling band, and a cave of two lovers. I'd listen with rapt attention; it was hard not to hang on every word the way she told a story.

The best nights were when the sunset shone bright orange in the sky and her eyes twinkled with memories yet untold. I never inquired anything more of her than she let on, but I knew there was something missing. On these nights, Mom would shift her storytelling to those of pirates, dragons, and the honor of a young man she never named. It was these times that I felt the most at ease while she somehow appeared to be more tense than usual.

"Honey, not like that, like this."

My mother mirrored my stance before shifting ever so slightly to correct it. I followed her movements, but my water whip was still weak. It limply flicked out at the tree trunk before us. Groaning, I gritted my teeth together and glared at the taunting drops of water. My mind was just elsewhere today—I couldn't concentrate to save my life.

"I just can't get it.." I trailed off, hissing through clenched teeth.

A cool hand rested on my shoulder and I looked up at Mom. Her deep blue eyes gleamed with the pride a mother reserved only for her children. "I believe you can, but we can take a break for now." She broke eye contact, eyes wandering over the hilly terrain that surrounded the forest we were in. A brook was the only thing that snaked between the two and connected them as one. Mom liked to say that it was a little nook that combined earth through the rocks, water through the bumbling brook, and air through the breeze that shook the trees. The only thing missing was fire.

I plopped down on the ground and threw my shoes off. Shedding my feet of sticky socks, I dipped my toes into the cool water. It was easy to bend the water around them like a second skin. Mom did the same, and we let out a sigh together.

"How's school?"

"It's okay. The Healers said I'm really getting a hang of it." Of course, with you as my mom, how could I not? I didn't say that out loud, though. Mom liked to believe that I was a prodigy all in my own.

"Good." She nodded and tilted her head upward, closing her eyes as the sun kissed her face. I smiled, though she couldn't see. Mom did it a lot when we were outdoors. Sometimes she'd decide that it was time to meditate and when I peeked at her, she'd always have her head tilted to the sun, eyes closed but a pained expression on her face. Only occasionally did she appear serene. "Are there any boys you like?" she gave me a mischievous sidelong glance and I made a face.

I dipped my head in thought, subconsciously swirling the water in circles around my toes. "Just one." A small smile lit my face as I continued, albeit slowly. Mom liked to have every little detail given to her, but I liked to hold back and watch her squirm like Dad sometimes did. She accused me of being too laid back, but we all knew it was just that she could be severely uptight.

"And..?" she prodded.

"Takumi."

Mom paused with a sharp inhale of her breath. I waited for her to release it. "He's the Fire Nation one if I'm not mistaken.."

"Mhm," I nodded in assent, fighting a furious blush. Dad would know what to do in a situation like this. He'd have just the right joke to smooth out any awkwardness I felt and make me laugh. Bumi would start up a rendition of Secret Tunnel—unfortunately, one of my favorite songs—while Tenzin rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile.

When I glanced in her direction, she was giving me a fond look. She reached one hand forward to push back a few pieces of hair that had come loose. "You're growing up so fast, Kya." I made an indignant sound in the back of my throat, but I didn't disagree outright. I was fifteen, after all.

"Mom," I whined childishly, "please don't start in on the sappy stuff. You know Bumi is the only one who can really stand it." And even then, he shot furtive glances at anyone within reach of him—probably trying to send an SOS with his eyes.

She chuckled as she stood, bending a stream of water into her hands. It flailed with her laughter until she sobered up and actually made it into something. I watched with carefully hidden awe as the miniature water-pentapus wiggled under her control. Mom used to make them all the time for us when we were children, usually as an incentive to get our chores done, but occasionally when we were bored stiff. "Do you want to learn how to make one?"

"Of course," I breathed.

Smiling, she began work on explaining how to form the different tentacles while taking in the push and pull of the water and offering words of encouragement when the water wouldn't do as I wished. Then came the story of 'pentapox' and my concentration on making my own pentapus ceased to exist. Mom went into great detail about how the Fire Nation had overtaken Omashu and when she got to the part about King Bumi—my own brother Bumi's name sake—the story seemed to branch off and become a saga in itself.

I watched the water transform between her palms. It moved from element to element without her even knowing. The three point flame to the swirls of air and so on until it finally dissolved into the symbol engraved on her engagement necklace.

She looked at it once, coming back to her senses and looking strangely forlorn for a moment, before bending the water back into the brook with a flick of her wrist and urging us home.

Author's Note: This was and is just a random idea I came up with in the notes on my iPod. It's slightly AU, or all AU, depending on how you want to look at it (?). Anyway.. It's told from Kya's point of view, and I guess you'll just have to wait to see what happens. ;) R&R, please.