These Wars We Live

Full Summary: A deeper insight into Katara, Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Azula, and Aang's pasts; all through the view of the most unlikely characters. Rated "T" for scenes and themes.

Author's Note: A special "hello" goes out to those whom have read my works before—and if you are new, welcome! Please feel free to give any comments. This means the good, the bad, and the ugly. I really don't mind as long as it's something I can fix.

Another little mini-note: I'm not really sure on the timing of many of these events. If you think I added something that may have happened a bit too soon or later, please tell me. I'll fix it if possible, and if not, I'll just leave it. Some stuff was mended to please the story line.

Happy reading!

Book One: Water

Chapter One: Home

If her story had to start out anywhere, it would have to start at the North Pole, where she was born and raised and taught. It was where her ancestors were from and where her family was bred—where the bones of her ancestors were dug far under the frozen soil and where the annoying demands of her family still rung throughout the air.

That was where it started. And really, Kana had always guessed that was where it would end. It was because of her parents and because of Pakku that she left.

He was an amateur bender with the cockiest attitude she had ever seen, and the sliest laugh she had ever heard. Her parents loved him. She couldn't stand the sight of him. So when he proposed and handed Kana a shining engagement necklace, she nearly fainted. She knew her parents would approve of him. She knew she had to get away.

With some charm and luck, she was able to get on a ship traveling to the Earth Kingdom, where she met a wondrous young man from the North Pole's fishing docks. She told him her story, he fell madly in love with her, they decided to run away to the South Pole together, and soon they were there: a family of three.

She was now a young mother on foreign soil. Her husband was getting sick and thin. Her daughter, Kira, needed food and warmth. She regretted leaving, but there was no way she was ever going back. Not back to her parents. Not back to Pakku. She was staying here no matter what. And even if it was an awful place to live, she learned to call it home.

The residents of the Tribe weren't too fond of her, so she had to help herself to what little fish could be found and what little drinkable water could be warmed. Thankfully, her daughter was growing at a rapid pace. Soon she was four years of age and the tallest of the other skinny, deathly pale Tribal children. But her husband, no matter how much he loved Kana and Kira, couldn't help from slipping into the spirit world. He died before their daughter was five years old, right when the first Fire Nation ship landed on the Tribe's shores.

Kana and Kira hid and endured. The Fire Nation ship was defeated, but they had taken their toll. All of the males of the village—at one point or another—would have to leave. The war would rage on no matter how many deaths would be taken. The Fire Nation would be back, but no one knew when or how.

"Gran Gran! Sokka won't share!"

"What do you want to do with a fishhook anyway, Katara?"

"GRAN GRAN! Tell him to share!"

"No! These are mine! You're going to ruin them! Ow!"

"Gran Gran! Sokka's bleeding!"

"Ow! Ow! Agh!"

They were arguing, again. This was the seventh time today. Kana didn't know what to do. Their mother was ill and couldn't tend to them and their father was out with the others fishing. Kana didn't know how to answer their questions or solve their fights.

But it couldn't prevent her from trying. She ran over to the two and looked at Sokka's thumb. It was swollen and red, but not bleeding. It looked crushed.

Kana sighed deeply and looked at the fishhooks, sharp and rusty and on the ground. Neither one of them seemed to be interested in them anymore. Katara was pale with fear and Sokka was cursing under his breath. She lifted both of them and placed them on her lap.

"Dears, I don't want either one of you playing with something like that anymore."

"But Sokka wouldn't share!" Katara insisted, eyeing her brother. "He never shares."

Sokka immediately forgot about what little pain his thumb had experienced and scowled at his 5 year old sister. "I never share? Every time I touch something, she wants it! And I can't say anything because she's younger!"

"You've said quiet enough, Sokka. Just because you hear curse words doesn't mean you use them. You have to be responsible, dearest. Please, for me."

"But it isn't fair!"

"No, you aren't fair," Katara chimed in.

They began another argument, but this time it wasn't about anything. It was just a name-calling contest, and Kana could see that there would be no winner.

She rubbed her eyes and sighed again. Sokka and Katara were arguing a lot lately, but they had never argued like this. Kana could sense something dark about the air today, something she had felt before…but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She took their hands and led them into a near-by igloo, then sat them down and looked at them.

"I want to tell you both something that I was taught when I was younger," Kana began as she sat down in front of her grandchildren. "When I was younger, we were never allowed to cry or fight. Never. Because it's bad luck, it's bad omen. It makes bad things happen. Even my Gran Gran used to tell me this, because she knew. Dears, children are possessed with a very special power. You know what that power is?"

Sokka mumbled and then stretched. Katara yawned drowsily and looked about the igloo. Kana could sense their displeasure but continued. "Children can make the future. They predict it. Now, you two have been fighting and arguing and crying all day today. This means that something bad will happen. You don't want that, do you?"

"No," Katara stated, immediately convinced.

"Nothing's gonna happen, Gran Gran," Sokka replied. "This is stupid. We can't predict the future. We can't do anything. Katara's just being annoying, that's all."

Kana felt useless. They wouldn't believe her. But it was true! How could they deny it? Crying and arguing is bad omen. It never helps anyone; it only permits negative emotion. And the dark sensation that Kana had been feeling all day felt stronger than ever.

She swallowed and tried to think back to when her husband was still alive. The day that he died had been the loudest day of her life. Kira wouldn't stop crying for a second. Then, in deep noon, her husband had passed away immediately. Kira had stopped crying and arguing. She only whimpered quietly and rocked back and forth next to her father's bed.

Sokka and Katara's voices now sounded like a bottomless humming note. The dark sensation wouldn't go away. Kana closed her eyes and tried to think, but something was blocking her usually clear and acute reflexes.

Then the bottomless humming tune and the dark sensation seemed to explode, because the ground and the igloo began to shake back and forth as a large boom enveloped the igloo. Katara and Sokka clung to each other. Kana grabbed them tightly and held them firm to the ground.

The Fire Nation was attacking.