And here's the fluff! (grin)

This is the launch of my Smellershot fic-series, WildChild, which will take place entirely before before the show series timeline. In essence, I'm creating the story of Jet's Freedom Fighters (Smellerbee and Longshot in particular) that's only hinted at in Avatar. This is all purely speculation/creative license/wishful thinking on my part, but I hope you all will enjoy the world I intend to create.

The stories will not be in chronological order - this isn't a Freedom Fighter fic per say, more of an anthology of musings. Hope that didn't just scare y'all away...

Ages for this story: Smellerbee: 8; Longshot: 11 (POV is Longshot at 15)

01. Belonging Place

Like a deer-hare that's bungled into the hunter's snare, my time had run out.

"Get 'im!"

"Hold 'im – he ain't gettin' away again!"

My breath came in rasping heaves, burning my lungs and throat. Sweat and blood from the cut in my forehead streamed into my eyes, nearly blinding me. On all sides, dark shapes crowded around, mocking, predatory.

"Not so tough now, are ya?"

"Yer gonna pay for what you did to me, punk!"

"Let's stick him with his own arrows, see how he likes it!"

They seized my arms, holding them fast (I was almost grateful, since I could barely stand on my own).

"Hahaha – he ain't even tryin' to yell or nothin'!"

"Like anybody'd help him?"

"Maybe he don't know how to talk – ha ha!"

I know how to talk, I almost said. Almost. I was not so weak that an enemy could goad me into speaking when I did not want to.

"You messed with the wrong gang, kid."

"Whatsa matter with this kid anyway? Does he think he's brave or somethin' for not yellin'?"

I heard the pop of knuckles being cracked as the leader of this pack of brutes readied himself for the final round of blows. "How 'bout it, Archer Boy?" he demanded, shoving his face into mine, his breath reeking of cabbages and garlic. "Got any last words? Or you jus' too stupid?"

I scowled, remaining silent – the last shred of useless defiance I had left to throw in his face, to show my utter disgust with bullies like him.

He sneered and lifted his fist…

ZOCK!

My tormentor's eyes went wide and ever-so-slowly, he toppled over like a tree cut down by an ax, falling face-first onto the hard dusty earth at my feet.

I was too stunned by it all to even savor the painful "whump!" that accompanied his landing.

"How about a couple last words for you?"

The words seemed to come from the sky itself. As one, we all turned and looked up at the wall that served to section off the vacant lot the pack had cornered me in. A small form, backlit by the late afternoon sun, perched atop it, tossing a stone in its right hand.

"Like… 'Eat dirt, loser," the shadowed stranger finished with a disdainful snort.

'Who…?' was all my dazed mind managed.

"Y-You're gonna pay for that!"

"Yeah – now get down here and fight, ya coward!"

The pack, stymied by the loss of their leader, turned their fangs against this new enemy. The hands holding me loosed – but I did not have the strength or will to run.

"I'm a coward? Fine then." The stranger's anger at the title could be felt like a thrill of energy skittering up my spine. Without hesitation, he launched himself from the wall, turning over in mid-air for no apparent reason other than to show he could, landing whisper-soft on the ground.

We all were slightly amazed by this.

"Who wants to show me," he demanded, dark, blazing eyes glaring from the midst of scraggly bangs, "how brave they are?"

The pack were rooted on the spot by fear, and I will admit that I was little better off. The crimson stripes stained on his cheeks might have been streaked blood, for all I knew.

"Heh – thought not," the terrifying stranger muttered. In the blink of an eye, he jumped straight up, plowing his knee directly into the face of the foremost of the pack.

"Holy – KENJI!"

'Who is this person? Why are they doing this?' my mind shrilled as I watched the melee like it was nothing more than a puppet play.

"YOU SONUVA-!" The next in line swung his fist in a wide, wild arc at the stranger's head as he stood, waiting for his next target. So swiftly that I could barely track it, the stranger shifted out of the path of the fist; seized the wrist as it went past; grasped the front of the attacker's gi – and flung him head-over-heels as easily as I would nock and loose an arrow.

What made it all the more amazing was when I realized the stranger was easily half-a-head shorter than me, and little more than skin and bones.

"That's three down…two to go," the stranger announced, holding up two fingers to the remaining members of the pack. "Why don't you try comin' at me together?" His eyes flashed dangerously once again. "I might go easy on you."

The remainders of the annihilated gang faced their foe…

… and took to their heels, the wounded bringing up the rear so quickly that my clothes were ruffled and pulled every-which-way with the wind of their passing.

I stared after them, wondering if I should feel pity.

"Bullies – peh!" The sound of the stranger's disgusted exclamation brought me back to the present. "All talk and no fight – talk about boring!" he continued, twining his fingers above his head and rolling his eyes, speaking more to himself than to me. "Now I gotta find somethin' else to occupy my time…"

'I thank you for your kind regards,' I conveyed with a bow, knowing it was understood. I suppose I was obligated to talk to someone who had saved my life, but…

"Um, you're welcome, I guess," I heard the stranger say after a moment or two. I had already found my hat, and noticed that my travel kit was more or less intact despite the rough treatment of the pack after they had torn it from me. 'Nothing to do but to hope I find it all,' I thought with a sigh, scrabbling after various foodstuffs, tools, and gear from amidst the dust-choked weeds.

"Don't get me wrong, I just don't like bullies," I vaguely heard the stranger say as I hunted down my scattered possessions. "My name's Smellerbee. What's yours? By the way, are you all right?"

'I'm walking aren't I?' I spared a thought, having spied my bow and quiver in a bush on the other side of the lot.

"I saw you get hit pretty hard, and it looks like they really beat you up… Are you sure you should…"

The quiver was being stubborn. I didn't want to pull too hard, because I didn't want the arrows going all over the place. The bowstring was already a lost cause, sadly…

'Too bad I have to leave this town,' I thought, finally freeing my quiver; I slung it over my shoulder and picked up my kit. 'It's become too dangerous for me to stay here. Perhaps there's a farmer, or better, a hunter who lives on the outskirts who'd be willing to trade a bowstring for…'

"Erk!" My head snapped back as something grabbed onto the back of my cloak, stopping me dead in mid-stride.

"I DON'T LIKE BEING IGNORED!" the stranger (Smellerbee?) bellowed at me, knocking me off my feet with sheer volume and presence, his finger thrust into my face while dark lightning crackled around him. "It's very rude!"

I gaped up at him, stunned.

"Don't think that just 'cuz I saved your butt you can take me lightly!" he continued angrily. "You're staying right here until I'm through with you!"

I was slightly confused (and more than a little frightened), but I did not doubt my best (and only) course of action…

"… and so, because that kid was throwing rocks at a cat, you decided to pin him to a tree with your arrows," Smellerbee summed up as he wound the bandage around my head, protecting the wound he had just finished painting with ointment. "That's silly. You should have known a guy like him would have backup. Archers need to have someone watching their back for them, duh." As everything he said was true, I let it slide without comment.

"I'm almost done, just keep still a little bit longer." Despite his rough manner and intimidating appearance, Smellerbee was quite adept at tending to wounds. He had quickly surveyed my supplies and confidently set to work. The pain in my head had almost vanished.

I almost asked him where he had learned to treat wounds, but ask about someone is to attempt to set up a relationship with that person. As grateful as I was, I could not afford to get attached in the slightest way to another.

"There, got it." The bandage was tied off with a knot just above my left ear. "Even though you haven't said a word, I think I know something about you…" Smellerbee added.

"…You don't really belong anywhere, do you?"

He might as well have called me all the names those bullies did – or at least, that's what it felt like. I turned and glared at him.

"Oh!" Smellerbee's eyes went wide and he raised his hands in surprise. "I-I didn't mean it like…!" He sputtered, his face flushing with embarrassment, his arms flailing helplessly. In less than a moment, the formidable, terrifying fighter was replaced by a babbling child. "I think it's really cool how you don't talk! Sort of like a mysterious hero – except that I had to save you! When I get nervous, I talk too much! That's what Jet says! A-and – uh…."

Just as abruptly, he composed himself, coughing delicately before saying, "If you want…" he reached his had out to me with a shy smile, "You can come with me – I know a place you can belong."

'A place to belong…' Those words, those four simple words: they were the words I had been searching for all this time, ever since my home was destroyed, burnt to ash, my family taken from me, my life left in ruins. I had been searching for someone who would take my hand in theirs and say, "Here is where you belong." Why was it that only Smellerbee could go beyond my silence, my hiding, reach for me, and say those words?

I nodded, wordlessly, not because I did not want to speak, but because I could not without weeping. He took my hand…

"By the way, I'm a girl," Smellerbee informed me as we walked westward into the setting sun in search of the person "Jet."

A rock purposefully and spitefully tripped me, causing her to shriek with gales of laughter.

- END: WildChild 01. -

A/N: Can y'all tell I'm studying Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs right now? (sheepish grin). The doujinshi (fan-comic) version of this story is in the process of being posted on deviantART. Just visit my profile to find the link!