How could one predict devastation? Then again, how could you not see it coming? The war had hit their village several times throughout the war, but had yet to attack in the last few decades. So the water tribe made the fatal mistake of letting their guard down, believing that the enemy thought them insignificant, which they were. But the fire nation didn't stop until only the ashes remained.
It was a day like any other; no one had chills or a dangerous feeling. The sun shone brightly over the southern ice cap warming the air ever so. Mid-morning and everyone was busy about there daily activities. She stood at the edge of the water, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of fresh air. The blue orbs shot open when ash landed on her eyelid.
At first she didn't know what it was, but then recognized it from the fire pits. Maybe it was a fluke, she said to herself. As she looked up and out over the water she saw more ash falling. It dirtied their perfectly white snow and discolored their water. By now the entire village was looking up at the falling black.
Finally, someone came to there senses and called to ready the weaponry. They were under attack, and much unprepared. Men and woman bustled everywhere searching for preserved armor and spears. Children were ushered inside by frightened mothers accompanied by those to old to go into battle. The few water benders ran out to the water's edge to fight off the fire nation's first strike.
Then, out of the dark clouds they appeared. At least twenty metal ships racing toward their tiny village at top speed. It was clear even to a child they were outnumbered and in trouble.
As she was ushered into the ice hut along with her brother, her mother graced her with last words. "Don't cry my babies, everything's fine. See Katara, take my necklace, and stay here with your brother." She would always remember her mother's hand slipping from hers as she turned and ran away from them. She looked down at the crystal blue stone pressed in her palm. She convinced herself that her mother would always come back for her necklace, much less her children.
She was wrong. She never heard her mother's voice again. Her last image would always be a burnt body lying in the snow and ashes. Her brother tried to pull her away, but she wouldn't leave. Not until her mother explained to her daughter why. Why wasn't it fine like she promised?
Years later she could still recall that day perfectly. The sun, the water, the fleet, the urgency, and the image of her beloved mother turning away, only later to be covered in the ashes.