Sugar, spice, and everything nice. That's what little girls are made of.
A slouched back, chin sticking out in defiance. A scuffling set of feet and a slight wringing of hidden hands.
"It wasn't my fault, Mama."
A tilted head and a sly smile. "And that rock threw itself, did it?"
"Maybe." More shuffling feet.
"Mai, rocks don't throw themselves. Let me see your hands."
A slight groan and hands thrust out in dejection. "It wasn't my fault, Mama, don't tell Papa. The princess-"
"The princess told you to throw a rock at her brother?"
"Yes!"
A wry chuckle and a quick wave. "Then, you better wash those muddy hands of yours. Your father is less understanding than me about these types of things."
"Yes, Mama."
However, little girls don't stay little for long.
Slouched back, eyebrows knit in distaste. "I don't see why Father and you couldn't have went to the Fire Nation instead."
"Mai-"
"You know how much I dislike this place."
A tiny fist thrusts out and grabs a handful of hair. A glare comes quickly. "And, obviously, I forgot about that little monster."
"Mai, don't talk about your brother like that."