I don't really want to say much here, so I'll just add that this takes place in the beginning of the war.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender

I was 16 when I was drafted into the army, only a day older when we were packed into ships and told to clean up the rest of the airbenders. The ship I was assigned to was small, many of us knew each other, and if not then at least we were all close to the same age. Travel time was filled with boisterous laughter as we sang our love of our country and talked about all the girls we could have back home, girls just love a man in uniform.

My Captain, 24 years old and a governor's son straight out of the military academy, said with my handsome face I was bound to already have a girl back home. I told him I did and they all huddled around as I described my pretty flower. "She can bend," I told them, "but she's just too fragile to be in the home guard." I showed them the sketch I had done of her before I left, her long black hair pulled back with her favorite fire lily pin.

Once the ships reached the base of the mountain we were given a moment to stretch before being directed into the near-by tanks; they were a bit crude, but they got the job done. The ride up was slow and rough, and more than once I collided with someone's chest plate. It was nothing though, compared to what came next.

The air blast caught the first tank just as it reached the outer courtyard of the temple. It was blown back into our tank and sent us tumbling back down the slope. The driver managed to stop us from falling all the way back down the mountain and we scrambled out and began hauling it back up to the temple, trying our best to avoid the blasts of air. I had only managed to run a few yards before I found myself terrifyingly out of breath. In the midst of all the chaos I pulled off my faceplate as my lungs desperately tried to pull in more air. Blood roared in my ears, my heart was pounding, my already heavy armor seemed to weigh a ton, and black began to creep in around the outside of my vision as the world spun.

"Don't panic, just breath." My Captain grabbed hold of my forearm and began pulling me towards cover. "It's the altitude, just breath."

I squashed down the rising panic and took a deliberately slow breath, now consciously feeling the difference in the air. My Captain nodded and patted my shoulder before stepping out from behind the large rock we had used for cover, only to be blown back by a massive gust of air. He hit another boulder with an audible crunch, slumping forward to the ground. He never got back up.

I hauled myself up off the ground and ran for the temple, throwing fire at flashes of yellow and orange, and masses of white fur. Pained roars filled the air. At the door I joined with a group of men that had gathered around the Lieutenant as he directed us forward through the massive hallways. He signaled for myself and another soldier to check one of the many rooms and we nodded before kicking open the door. Huddled in the corner was a bald boy no older than myself, his grey eyes widened and he jumped to his feet with practiced ease. I didn't see any arrows, but the kid moved with a degree of such confidence. He thrust his hands forward and my fellow soldier stepped up to disrupt the blast. Suddenly, something felt wrong, I saw a panicked shift in his stance as the sound of slicing metal screeched through the room, and then a blinding pain slashed across my face.

The kid had sharpened the air like a slicing blade.

The soldier was lucky it killed him quickly.

I was lucky not to lose sight in my right eye.

What would my girl think of my handsome face now?

I was 18 when I knew I was never going home. Perhaps I had known for awhile now, but as I hugged the screaming boy tighter to my chest while trying to control my komodo rhino and not jostle the bloody, wrapped pulp that used to be the kid's foot, it was so painfully clear.

Two years in the army is just too much time for things to change, for us to change. We will never stop being soldiers.

I tightened my hold as he began to struggle. "Don't panic, just breath," I warned.

The kid is 16 years old. He was drafted in a few months ago and this had been his first major battle. We were on the front lines against multiple Terra Teams. The kid's foot was crushed beyond recognition. He'll lose it. He'll never walk again if he lives.

I couldn't help but wonder if he had a girl back home. What would she think if she saw him now?

My mother cried when she saw the scar on my face.

My father tried to act like it was a badge of some kind, but I could tell he was horrified by his once handsome son.

My girl couldn't even look a me.

But what could I tell them?

We are soldiers.

We all have scars.