They took away her Kanyini. Her Oneness, her Connectivity, her spirit. The first elders were right, her grandmother was right, and her grandmother before that – losing Kanyini, losing connection, was death. The people in this green land called it 'living death' The people who trickled in from the Redlands – the ones who returned from the killing – place, eyes empty, hands shaking, people who jumped at no noise, and couldn't stare at a flame – shells left behind by their souls. Walking dead, the earth people called them. Her people called them something different – the cuts ones – those who had lost their Kanyini.
They had killed, seen kills, had been killed and were waiting to be returned to the mother. Her people had called them Wanderers, those who were – would be going through life searching for their souls. And now, she was one of them, one by one, the aspects of her Kanyini had been taken away by the men in the red armor, the men who burned too brightly in her eyes, the men who hurt.
Her brother did not, would not, could not, understand. He was not . . . taught in the way that she was – to embrace the spiritual energy in everything. She was a water bender – descended from the spirits who had taught how to manipulate the energy. His Kanyini had never been established – he had never helped birth a seal cub, care for the sick, and manipulate the very substance they lived on. He did not know how to be one with everything, muttered about weird girly antics when she stopped to breathe in the air, her air, her Kanyini.
The Red ones had destroyed her Kanyini, and her spirit in turn. One by one, they cut away her spirit. First of, her Beliefs – they came through her villages one day when the men were gone with strange statues of men with cruel faces and small beards, woman with vapid smiles and jealous eyes, they cut down her statues of animals, and the moon, the very spirits witch kept their village safe. The woman had howled in pain when they had – she had not understood the aching then, a scared little girl behind her mother's knees. She was told her story's were wrong and stupid, as they beat her. The men had returned soon, but her eyes would never forget the sight of her watcher – a cheerful little ice bear – being turned into red flames.
Second, her soul was extinguished, through the fear the angry ones produced. No playing with water anymore, little one, or the fire benders will take you away. Her soul was hidden away between layers of fur and watchful eyes – no more was she allowed to roam free. She began to resent her people, her brother especially, as he did not understand the trapped – ness she felt.
Third, the worst of all, they took away her family. Her mother. Her nurturer. They cut her down – the strong, proud woman She wanted to be - without a second thought. She watched as her Mother begged the man to leave – another man who resembled the statues a little too well, the only difference being a sadistic glee as he reveled in her mothers desperation. She watched as the hand went down, the red flared, and her mothers voice went silent.
The fourth she cut herself. When the little boy with the flying beast and the blue tattoos came to her village she had been nearly empty then. Her bending was small and limited, her thoughts and heart too. He gave her freedom she had not tasted in a while – a glimpse of the life that could have been hers had it not been for the Fire benders. She reveled in it, the pure joy of no restraints, no worries. But then the ship had broken, and once again, the fire benders had destroyed her spirit once more. She had left her village, her lands, her people, for the little boy who gave her hope – not necessarily for the world, but for her. She separated herself from the place that gave her life, and went out into the world, a dead soul in a living body.
She smiles when she thinks of them now – the red ones, the angry ones, the fire benders- face gentle and forgiving – world peace is key, can't slip up -, but eyes brittle and hard behind a mask of kindness and mothering. That is what water is, people say, the weak element, the forgiving one, the protector, the mother. They always fail to realize that water has been the one constant since this earth arrived. Earth has crumbled, air has moved on, fire has been extinguished, but water, water has lived on – as what she has become, a glacier, hard, cold, unmoving ice.