Holy shit! You actually clicked on this one? Thanks, I guess.

This is not only my very first fanfiction, but my first time sharing anything I've written. So be savage with your critiques, tear me to pieces.

Now this might take a while for Azula, or even any of the Gaang to show up in a significant way. I mean, you can't just learn energy bending overnight, like some people can. (e.g. Aang) But hopefully I make it interesting enough, or you all have the patience to stick with me.

I DON'T own Avatar: The Last Air Bender. I wouldn't be writing this if I did. I'd be out of college and have our new favorite orphan be one of the heroes.

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Cheng's face pressed against the cold, damp earth in front of him. Eyes screwed shut as hard as he could hold them to keep the tears from falling out and stinging his already soaking and rubbed raw cheeks.

He could hear muffled shouts through the earth above him. Mixed in were grunts of effort, and the roar of flame spewing from the fists of the attackers.

It all started so quickly, and it was so unexpected. As fearful children chased down the last soldiers to leave, they were all assured that the village was of no significance. There was no chance it would be attacked.

Yet the giant smoke belchers of the fire nation landed on the shores of Dingcun. There were no watchful eyes on the horizon, there was no indication, the afternoon was peaceful one moment, and then chaotic the next.

Cheng had spent the day in the trees bordering the village, playing with the children his age. When his mother called him for lunch, and that's when it happened.

A frantic knock came to the door. Without waiting for it to open, someone shouted "fire nation!" His father went to the window, expecting to see a prankster running away, but a moment later Cheng was flung over his shoulder like a ragdoll and nearly tossed into the bedroom. His mother pounded a hole into the ground, and his father wordlessly dumped him in before making for the front door again.

"Wait here, dear" she held Chengs face in her hands, starring him in his eyes with tears welling up in her own. "Wait here, and don't come out unless someone from the village comes for you. Ok?"

Cheng nodded shakily with tears already falling.

His mother stood and bent the earth back into place above him, Leaving him in pitch black.

They were both strong, the best earth benders in the village, he kept telling himself. But that didn't mean much when there were only four benders, and one of them was buried away, hiding in a hole. Regardless, every time a tear dropped he would repeat the fact to himself. But in the back of his mind he would again say, a ship full of soldiers… versus villagers and three earth benders, and would begin crying all over again.

It felt like hours later that he realized everything was silent. He waited still, for maybe an hour after. Expecting some hand to burst through the ground, maybe for someone to shout his name. But when nothing came he steeled himself and crouched into the stance his father taught him in the backyard. Crouched slightly, so that you were closer to the ground, harder to knock over. Hand by your hips, every muscle tense until you were ready to bend. Cheng punched upward with a grunt and the ground above popped away like a cork from a bottle. Then, as if lifting something heavy over his head, he raised the ground beneath himself until he was on level ground.

His knees hit the ground without him feeling. He didn't resist the tears upon seeing the husk of his home, the ashes of his parents bed blew into his face when he turned, looking for something, anything. Where his parents bed was, he saw a body sitting atop a pile of ash. Burned and unrecognizable. He turned away and curled into himself on the only patch of unburnt ground he could see.

After a time, the sun became too searing for him to stay, so he stood, careful not to look at the bed.

He remembered the basic training he had received along with other villagers, when the soldiers were still in the village. Step one was to look for survivors, step two was to gather supplies, and step three was to make it to the next village and report what had happened. He felt that wasn't enough at the time. What do you do in between steps? What if someone is alive but hurt, and can't make it to the next village? What if you don't know where the next village is? What is there aren't any supplies to gather? All of his questions were answered in a way that satisfied him at the time, but now left his throat clenched in panic.

He searched until near dusk, calling out every name he could remember though his closing throat. His dead grandmother, the neighbor boy that he hated, the old man he occasionally stole sweets from, his mother's name was shouted the most. But there was no one except him. The village was silent.

It took him a moment to accept the fact that he might be alone, so he followed on to step two. He found a hefty leather bag, covered in soot so he knew it had been scorched, but it was intact. He felt his nerves on end as he walked through the village, he jumped at every shadow, and started at every noise caused by the wind. So he decided his first destination would be the blacksmiths home, remember some of the tools that were hung on the walls.

He stopped at the building he was looking for. It was the only stone building in the village, so it was most intact. But that only meant two walls had fallen instead of three or four. He stepped in gingerly, the doorway leaving a black mark on his hand, and made his way towards the back wall. He could almost see it when he recalled the tools hung up on the back wall room. There were knives, hammers, horse shoes and hoes, even a crudely made sword as this was a fishing not a fighting village. All were lying on the floor now, there supports all reduced to ash.

Cheng made his way closer to the pile to sift through the ashes for a knife, or even a hammer he could carry. As soon as his hand touched something in the pile he noticed a… thing, lying half underneath the pile.

A scorched hammer led to a mangled hand, to a bone seared arm, up to a blackened shoulder and head. The lips were burned away revealing a set of scowling teeth. The skin down his chest was just as burned as the rest of him, but there were cracks that revealed the wet and red underneath that proved this thing was alive once.

His breath caught, and he scrambled back on all fours, nearly crashing into the wall. He sat on the floor outside, breathing heavily until he calmed down enough to see what he had managed to bring out of the pile of ash and metal. A dagger in a scorched wooden sheath. When he opened it he found a polished and very sharp blade, with some letters crudely dotted into the metal. "Never give up without a fight" He muttered to himself. A hard gulp followed after, and his knuckles turned white around the hilt of the knife.

It was much easier to search the village once he knew what not to look at. Before sunset he had a bag of odds and ends, and food and water that would last him for a while as he walked down the only path leading out of Dingcun.

Given it was nearing dark, he decided to stay the night. Near the village, but away from all the carnage. He chose the only building that was untouched, a fisherman's shack that sat at the end of the only dock. He spent the night wrapped in fishing nets and laying curled on top of a tangle of rope.

It was easy to forget himself when he woke up in the morning. For a moment the village was back to normal, quiet save for the waves. But then he saw the scorched bag in the corner and snapped out of his drowsy fantasy.

He snatched up the knife from where it had fallen and rushed out of the shack before he could start crying again. It wasn't long before all he could see of his village was a black pillar of smoke in the sky.