My grandfather used to tell me stories of an astonishing world. A place where spirits walked alongside mortals, where it was normal to see an animal that seemed a mix of two species, and of how people had the ability to make the four elements yield to their desires.

These stories filled my childhood with wonder, and my grandfather did all he could to fill the void in my life left by my neglectful parents. They discouraged these stories, but at the same time, didn't care enough to keep them from being heard.

Everyone agreed I had gotten my looks from him. Out of everyone in our family, only the two of us had these strange orange gold eyes, and no one could figure out how it was genetically possible.

"In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different," he would say with a warm smile as he ruffled my thick dark hair.

"Who said that?" I would mumble in response as I shot a long hard look at the kids still sniggering at me from the playground.

"Some woman somewhere," he chuckled. "But it doesn't matter who said it. So long as you never forget it. You're everything to me Rena. Don't ever think that your existence means nothing."

I would always nod and allow him to lead me home for a home- made treat that existed in no cookbook anyone had ever seen. But it managed to cheer me up until the next time.

Eventually I learned to withdraw from the people around me and keep my emotions in check.

I was strange.

We were strange.

It was just a simple fact I had to live with.

So we kept our distance.

We were all the other had. My Grandmother had died when I was young, but I still remember bits and pieces of her. A kind faced woman with long, thick silver hair and soft gray eyes. I can remember her being dainty and petite, aging with a grace few women are willing to accept.

I'm sure if she had lived, she would have spent hours with us, telling and acting out the stories. Singing songs people had never heard of.

But the days of singing and storytelling are over.

Grandfather had died three years ago when I was eleven. I can still remember it plain as day. Sitting in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, I was bone weary.

He had whispered for me to bring him a box from a false bottom in his desk. I was surprised, it was beautiful, and the decoration was unlike anything I'd seen before. It seemed to have popped out from one of his stories. I handed it over to him, watching as he pulled a key from a chain around his neck.

"Your grandmother and I wanted this to be yours," he wheezed.

He opened the lid, pulling out a battered and thin strip of leather attached to a small orange gem.

He placed it in my hands, curling my fingers around it. I could feel his hands shaking like autumn leaves against my own.

"It's your inheritance," he explained with a smile.

I stared down at it in wonder. There seemed to be a small flicker inside it, like a small tongue of fire. And I didn't know if I was imagining it, but it seemed to give of heat.

"If you ever find yourself feeling as if you don't belong here in this world, this will fix all your problems."

My eyes widened, words sticking in my throat.

"What do you mean-"

But my question would never be answered. Grandpa died right then, and I was alone.

My alarm clock blares, rousing my from my pleasant sleep.

Groaning, I let it blare until it goes into snooze mode. It happens like that three more times before I finally fumble for the off switch, slamming my fist down when I finally find it.

I roll out of my cocoon of mismatched blankets on my bed, wincing as my feet touch the cold hardwood floor. Another unpleasant day at school waits...why keep it waiting?

I shuffle over to my bathroom and splash my face with cold water to try and reduce the puffiness of my eyes. My irises are dull, like a fire that's slowly losing the oxygen it needs to burn. I stayed up until three in the morning reading my way through the last book in a series I'm currently engrossed in.

Stepping out of the bathroom and up to my battered old set of drawers, and pull out a pair of baggy black sweats that look like they were made for someone three sizes larger than me. After throwing them on and pulling the drawstring as tight as I can, I pull open another drawer and remove a worn and faded tee shirt with a London flag on it.

My grandfather's pendent bangs against my collar bones as I get dressed and move on with the rest of my rushed morning routine. After shoving my feet into worn fur of my gray imitation Uggs, I reluctantly get to my feet and grab my backpack from my desk chair. Scooping up a stack of three books from my desk and another random one off the stack from my nightstand I juggle them in my arms as I trudge down the stairs sluggishly.

'Mom' is fixing 'Dad' breakfast, not bothering to look up at me from her pan of sizzling bacon. 'Dad' on the other hand sends me a distasteful look from over his newspaper as I roll the waist of the sweats down three times to make up for the excess length.

"What are you wearing?" he asks, eyeing that this particular tee shirt has had its original collar cut and is hanging off my right shoulder slightly, exposing one of my red bra straps.

'Mom' looks up from her cooking at that point. Taking in my appearance, she looks appalled, but then again I don't care.

"Did you even comb your hair today?" she asks with a voice leaden with disgust.

So what if I didn't? I like the way it looks. Combing my hair in the mornings completely destroys the natural waves of my hair. Plus it brings out the ash blonde under layer that I had been dying in for the last two years. The mixed curls are simply gorgeous.

"Forget that!" 'Dad' spits, eyeing the small strip of my stomach that is as exposed as I pick up an energy bar from the counter. "She looks like a Goth prostitute."

"God, what will the neighbors say if they see her like that?" 'Mom' mutters in horror, raising her hand to her mouth.

"She should have enough sense not to let herself be seen in such an unacceptable state," 'Dad' replies as he refocuses on the headlines of the newspaper.

"Well she is leaving," I spit, glaring at them as I walk out of the kitchen, pausing only to slip on a worn oversized black hoodie.

Asshats.

I make sure to slam the door behind me as hard as I can, smirking as I hear the frame rattle and 'Dad' swears loudly.

Taking extra care to keep myself warm in the early winter chill, I wrap my jacket tightly around my body and tuck the hood over my head. Shifting the stack of books in my arms and opening the wrapper off the energy bar I take of down the street, eager to get into a warm room.

I get to school ten minutes early, so I drop off the three finished books at the library. The librarian offers me one of her rare genuine smiles as she takes my books and hands over two that I've had on hold.

"Take care now," she says softly as I slide them into my backpack.

I offer her a small smile as she hands me a tootsie pop along with my school ID.

The rest of my day goes as usual.

My first period math teacher sighs overdramatically as he sees that I don't have my homework…again.

"You need to do your work Rena," he says in a voice that sounds like it's meant to be encouraging. "Or else you won't do well in this class."

I give him a nod, not bothering to look up from my book. But out of my peripheral vision I can see the other three members of my pod glaring at me for losing us twenty points.

Positive peer pressure, our teacher calls it.

I just go on reading, ignoring the quiz that my teacher puts on the corner of my desk.

In second period my teacher asks me a question in Spanish. I don't know how to reply, so I sit there quietly staring back at her until she makes an annoyed sound deep in her throat.

She makes a big show of some furious scribbling on her clipboard.

"Su incompetencia usted gana una gran F grasa," she growls before moving onto the next person on her list for today's oral quiz.

The few kids advanced enough to understand what she said snigger. I just shrug my shoulders and pick up my book.

Third period my teacher catches me eating the tootsie pop in her class.

"Throw it away or come in for lunch detention," she says in a bored tone.

My only response is the crackling of the hard candy shell as my teeth gnaw on it.

"Very well," she sighs and writes my name on the board with one tally mark, indicating ten minutes of detention. "While we're at it can you explain the concept of Thermal Expansion to the class?"

The room is filled with more sounds of crunching. My teacher's eyes never leave mine as I pull the rest of the candy from the stick. Chewing on the taffy center, I toss the stick into the trash can near my desk.

But the teacher doesn't appreciate my perfect basket. She just sighs again and adds another tally next to my name. Twenty minutes of lunch detention.

In fourth period I walk my six track laps in gym, ignoring my teacher when she says if I fail this run I'll just have to run it again tomorrow. I shrug and continue walking, fiddling with my pendent every few minutes and taking comfort in its mysterious warmth. It's like a small sun, bringing light and comfort into my small world.

I hole myself up in the library at lunch. No one comes here if they can avoid it, and the librarian finds me in the back, curled up in a large beanbag chair. She offers me a fat glazed doughnut. Normally she cracks down on anyone she catches eating in the library, but I guess she does have a soft spot somewhere in her when it comes to kids that remind her of herself when she was in school.

In blind exasperation, my fifth period teacher announces to the whole class that I'm failing his class when he sees I don't have my vocabulary cards done. Everyone laughs, including the cute boy that sits next to me. He once told me he admired my smarts back when we had just started middle school.

Now the sight of him laughing along with everyone else makes my cheeks flush in shame. I shrink into the safety of my hoodie. Eventually the subject switches and everyone more or less forgets about my humiliation.

Sixth period history is more or less fine. The teacher is mellow and doesn't really care who naps during his lecture. It also helps that the classroom has no windows, so the only light comes from the power point when the lights go off.

The bell rings, waking me from my peaceful nap and telling me it's time to go home. But that's the last place I want to be.

My life sucks, and all I want is for something exciting to happen. Something like in those stories I loved. But with only fifteen dollars in my pocket that I swiped from the money box 'Dad' keeps in his sock drawer, my options are rather limited.

So I head to a local café and finish my book. I keep it simple with a cup of hazelnut coffee and a bowl of tomato soup to fight off the chill. The waitress that delivers it also sets a grilled cheese sandwich down at my table, but hurries back to the kitchen before I can say anything.

An hour and a half later she brings by a generous slice of chocolate chip cheesecake.

"On the house," she says in a tired but warm tone. "Put some meat on your bones honey."

I smile and thank her, and she gives me a weary smile before heading off to the rude customer yelling for her on the other side of the restaurant.

By the time I finish my book, it's almost ten.

The walk home is long and painfully cold. But lucky for me the house is dark when I walk up. Pulling the house key from the flower pot next to the door, I slip in as quietly as I can.

But as soon as I step in the kitchen, the lights flick on. 'Mom' and 'Dad' are decked out in all their bathrobe glory and glare fiercely at me from their spots at the table.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" 'Mom' asks in a harsh tone.

"Ten thirty five," I reply after my eyes dart to the lights above the stove.

"Where were you?!" she grills me.

"Reading," I reply, holding up my finished book.

"Do you think we're stupid?!" she asks as she shoots up from her seat. "Don't lie to us!"

"That's the least of our worries right now," 'Dad' says as he motions for her to sit back down.

She does as she's told, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders as she crossed her arms over her chest. I sigh and get ready to walk out of the kitchen.

"You were not excused," 'Dad' snaps. "Care to explain to us what this is?"

I turn back around to see him holding up a white envelope with a red stamp on it. I shrug even though I know exactly what it is.

"You're failing all your classes!" 'Mom' screeches, infuriated with my lack of response. "You don't turn in any assignments! You were top of the class up until sixth grade and then you just flush everything down the toilet?! We raised you better than this!"

While I'm surprised they knew that my GPA was great when Grandpa was alive, her last comment hits a sore spot in me. Words I've wanted to say for years bubble up in my throat. I try desperately to hold them back, but they manage to let them slip past the filter I've developed over the years.

"You didn't raise me," I say bitterly. "Grandpa did. You may have brought me into this world. But you aren't my parents. You never were and you never will be."

'Mom's face goes red as shoots up from her seat and crosses the room. I'm still recovering from my screw-up as she brings her hand across my face, leaving my cheek stinging.

"Ungrateful brat," she spits.

"It's the truth," I mutter, refusing to cup my stinging cheek. "You two never loved me. You think I'm a freak just like everyone else. And you're scared of me because I'm different just like grandpa was."

She backhands me again, making her feelings clearer than crystal.

"You don't need to deny it," I say sarcastically as she trembles in front of me. "I've known since I was a kid. All you do is insult me."

"To think we gave life to such an ungrateful thing," 'Dad' spits, confirming my argument. "You don't belong here, and you know it. You and the old man!"

My blood boils in my veins.

How dare he talk about grandpa that way? His own father...It makes me sick.

"You both were an abomination" he continues as I stands and walks up next to 'Mom'. "I'm surprised you haven't been made a lab subject yet."

"Burn in hell!" I yell at them as I kick him in the shin as hard as I can.

I dash up the stairs as he howls in pain. As I sprint down the hall and up the stairs, I suddenly wish I had tried harder in gym. I hear footsteps thundering against the steps as I slam my door. I crumple in front of it, tears welling up in my eyes.

I bite my lip to keep them from falling. I knew they hated me, but voicing it cut me deeper than I expected. There's a thud on my door that signals 'Dad's arrival.

I clutch my pendent in trembling fingers as he continues to pound away on my door. I want to leave. I want to go somewhere...anywhere but here. I want to go somewhere where I don't have to waste my life in boring routine.

I want to go somewhere I belong.

A surprisingly hard blow ends the door caving in a bit. My back arches with it as a strangled cry escapes my lips.

"OPEN THE DANM DOOR!" 'Dad' roars.

"God, someone please me out of here," I whimper as my tears finally spill over my lash line and splash on my hands.

A blazing heat erupts from between my palms. I scream as my head jerks back to see the pendent seems to be engulfed in flames. Before I can comprehend what's happening, it explodes. My screams are cut off as I'm blasted back into the wall.

I'm out before I hit the floor.

"Aang I know you're upset!" Katara yelled her voice wavering for a moment. "And I know how hard it is to lose the people you love. I went through the same thing when I lost my mom."

She fights the powerful currents of air, trying to keep steady footing on the slippery snow.

"Monk Gyatso and the other air benders may be gone, but you still have a family. Sokka and I! We're your family now."

The air swirling around Aang seemed to slow for a moment, slowly lowering him to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground Katara and Sokka stepped out from behind their rock. They approached cautiously, and soon enough, the swirling winds died completely, letting them walk up beside the young air bender. His tattoos still glowed, but his frown had been smoothed out.

"Katara and I aren't gonna let anything happen to you," Sokka said soothingly.

Katara grabbed his hand, and his tattoos lost their glow. He slumped over, allowing Katara to catch him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"It's ok," Katara reassures him. "It's not your fault."

"But you were right," he says, looked back at the ground. "And if fire benders found this temple, that means they found the other ones too. I really am the last air bender."

As soon as the words left his mouth, an explosion rocks the cliff. Katara does her best to raise a shield of snow between them to by Sokka time to drag Aang behind a nearby boulder. She stumbles after them and slides behind the weather beaten rock, flinching as debris fly over and around their makeshift shelter.

Fire Nation," Sokka growled, drawing his club. "How dare they show themselves here?!"

But something was off about this. If this was the Fire Nation, surly there wouldn't have been just one explosion. There would have been a bombardment of explosions and fire balls.

They peer around the side of the rock as the dust began to clear, keeping an eye out for any sudden movement. But there were no soldiers there.

Instead, a small body lay face down in the snow. They watched it for a minute, but the figure didn't move.

Katara eventually got up, her concern taking over and made her way over to the body. The other two followed more cautiously but sped up when Katara knelt in front of the small figure. They peered over her shoulder, watching as she flipped the body on its back.

It was a girl, and by the looks of things she seemed around Katara's age or a little younger. She had waist length dark brown, almost black, hair, with an under-layer the color of beach sand. She appeared to be out cold, and the clothes she wore were thin, soaked through, and exposed her dangerously to the snow.

Her skin was pale, the areas where her skin was in contact with snow was starting to turn a pinkish red color. A shudder passes over her body, making them realize that if they left her like this for much longer she'd freeze to death.

"Come on," Katara commands, slipping the girl's arm around her shoulders. "We've gotta get her inside."

The other two nod. Sokka gets up and tucks his machete back into its sheath.

"Grab her arms Katara," he orders. "I got her feet. We'll put her in the nearest guest room."

"I'll get some blankets," Aang says as he stumbles slightly towards the door. "Just bring her this way."

Katara and Sokka nod, heaving he body through the snowdrifts and back to the air temple's main lodging building. Aang does his best to hurry inside, working through his lack of energy. He finally spots a bedroom, stumbling inside and gesturing for them to lay the girl on the small bed in the corner.

As soon as they set her down, Katara gets to work on extracting the water in her clothes. Once she's sure she's gotten it all she streams it out the window.

Aang steps up with a pile of blankets and together they drape them over her still shivering body.

"How did she get up here?" Katara asks as she tucks the girl in.

"I don't know," Aang whispers.

"Just ask her when she wakes up," Sokka groans from the doorway, holding a bowl of water. "In the meantime, let's heat this up for her."

Aang and Katara nod, making their way toward the door.

Aang glances over his shoulder on last time, spotting a thin leather band hanging around the girl's neck. At the end is a small hunk of orange crystal, as if there was supposed to be a gem there but it had been broken off. He disregarded the information for the moment.

He'd save all his questions for when she woke up.

XXx Author's Notes xXX

Well...this was a spur of the moment though that popped into my head a few hours ago. I was happy that I had a plot after dinner so I went ahead and typed it up. Hope you enjoyed it!

Till next time! ~Jade ^^