Despite the winter chill biting at the air, the street markets in Gaoling were bustling and alive with activity. As one of the few Earth Kingdom cities free of the Fire Nation's tyranny, many Earth Kingdom residents fled to the city in search of restitution. With the people busy buying their bread and whatever vegetables were left before the frost set in, huddled a lone figure in between a stand selling soup and a back alley, anonymous to all those that passed him. The figure was donned in a moldy, viridian tarp that was scavenged out of the garbage some cabbage salesman left behind. The tarp was scratchy against the figure's sensitive pale skin, and it let off an odor that was impossible to mask, but the tarp did its job. No one would like twice at a homeless child. No one would suspect that he was the avatar.

The tarp was drabbed across the monk's head, hiding the bit of his arrow that was not quite concealed by the ever-growing shag on top of his head. It did little to seal out the icy breeze swirling through the city streets, but Aang did not dare airbend the air around him to warm his flesh. One never knew where the Fire Nation was lurking. The glowing embers from the soup stand was a desperate measure, but the weak flames gave the illusion of warmth. Besides, the airbender quite like the smell of the spices wafting through the air. If there was old soup leftover at the end of the day, the kind elderly woman that ran the stall would let Aang sip at the dregs on the bottom. On a busy day like today, it looked as if Aang would not be so fortunate.

Only two months ago was Aang woken from his icy tomb to find himself one-hundred years in the future. The relief of rescue was quickly squashed when the Fire Navy proved not to be what Aang once remembered. The firebenders, who worked night and day to melt him from the iceberg, quickly turned on the avatar, and imprisoned him in their ship. It was only with a bit of luck and quick thinking did the boy escape, but not before disaster struck. As Aang was flying off into the horizon on top of his trusty Air Bison, the Fire Navy soldier sent a harpoon straight through Appa's heart, as if he was a common shark-whale. Their action was completely without remorse.

Aang watched as his only friend and last connection to his life at the Southern Air Temple bled out into the ocean, dying the blue water red. The last thing Aang can remember is the mournful bale that erupted from the bison's throat as he floated on top of the freezing waters. That was when everything went dark. The avatar state took over, leaving the Fire Navy in ruins, and only one lone Seaman alive, floating on a chunk of ice, destined to freeze to death out in the icy tundra. When Aang returned to his body, Appa was already dead, only a frozen statue mocking the life he once had. Aang did the only thing he could – he ran away.

Finding the entire world in the midst of a war was devastating. The world was no longer a safe, comforting place, open to all kinds of people. Open to the avatar. Now, it was dangerous to be the avatar. Aang could no longer be the proud airbender he was, showing his tattoos off to the world. He had to conceal his culture – conceal himself. Aang had no one in this new, cruel world. He had nowhere to go and no plan. This twelve-year old boy was truly alone.

Even in the Earth Kingdom, not a single person could be trusted. Shortly after the boy arrived in the Earth Kingdom, he had settled himself down in a small settlement, not really complete enough to warrant the title "village." At first, the people seemed to greet Aang with exaltation. After one-hundred years of battles and death, they were so relieved to see that the avatar had finally returned. Perhaps now there was hope that the Fire Nation wouldn't win this war.

Aang settled quickly into this life at the settlement. He would help the women with their baking, and the men with their trades. Aang had befriended these people – learned their manners and customs. The young avatar finally felt like he had a home again. Unfortunately, it seemed the talk of money was louder than any hope.

Aang was sold out for a solid paycheck. The airbender never found out who betrayed his presence to the Fire Nation, but in the end, it really did not matter. People could not be trusted. In a time of war, they had become desperate and greedy for any sliver of the prospect that life could be better than its inherent state. After one-hundred years, the avatar had become nothing more than legend. Aang understood their weariness – would he be able to just trust some kid that abandoned them for a century? With a heavy heart, Aang walked away from the settlement, his traditional monk robes discarded along with his faith.

Aang pulled his tarp further over his forehead, completely masking his eyes to the world around him. The avatar inhaled, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his tarp that was slowly rotting away. Despite his teeth chatter, and his stomach clenching from its hollowness, Aang felt himself slowly begin to drift off to sleep. It was not easy to sleep on the streets, and Aang took it whenever he could. Squirrel-rats and garbage did not make good bedmates.

The days blurred into weeks, and everything remained the same. Aang would sat huddled in his tarp as the days grew steadily colder, watching people run around in their own world. Every day, Aang told himself that someday, everything would change. Someday he would rise up, take on his duty as the avatar, and stop the tyrannical reign of the Fire Nation. As time went on, Aang started to realize that "someday" would never come.

Aang always considered himself a positive person – always able to see the light in others, yet with every sneer from passersby, every time he got spat on, Aang began to see the light fade. The world no longer cared for the avatar. They had gone one-hundred years without him, and had learn to survive by themselves. The Earth was wounded, and struggle was part of everyday life, yet they were surviving. The phrase "avatar" has gained a negative connotation. He had abandoned everyone in their time of need, and allowed the Fire Nation to take over. The people of the world weren't looking for the avatar – they were looking for a miracle.

One day, in what month, Aang could not be sure, the sun was completely obscured by dark storm clouds. The streets were completely abandoned, even the market stalls were gone. All was left was our young avatar, completely bare except for his traditional tattoos. Rain drizzled over his skin, melting the blue ink from his flesh, and washing it away into the cracks of the cobblestone street. A trembling hand rose to the boy's scalp, and it was shaved clean. The feeling was practically alien after months of growing out his hair.

"Where did you go, Aang?" Turning slowly, as if his limbs had been filled with the densest of stone, Aang found himself face-to-face with a familiar figure. Staring at him with betrayal in his eyes, was Monk Gyatso.

"Where did you go? Why did you leave us, Aang?" Gyatso's voice was brittle, as if a gust of wind would steal the sound.

'I didn't mean to,' Aang attempted to reply, but no sound uttered out of the boy's mouth.

"Why, Aang? Why?"

Tears rolled down Aang's face, merging with the rain. His tattoos had completely melted away, and his limbs were glued to his side as if his entire body turned to stone. As much as Aang yearned to, he could not reach out to his master.

Monk Gyatso shook his head in disgust, and turned his back on the boy. "I thought you were more than this. I suppose I was wrong."

"Please, come back! Please! Don't go!" Silence. Complete silence.

"Move!"

Aang couldn't.

"I said move, you worthless bum!"

Aang's eyes popped open, and found himself staring straight into the eyes of some irate nobleman. It was just a nightmare. Gyatso was dead, along with the rest of Aang's people. They weren't here to see what had become of the airbender.

"Are you dumb boy? Move! Can't you see my daughter is blind?" The nobleman gestured to his daughter, standing slightly behind him. Just as he said, her eyes stared straight forward, unseeing, but Aang had a feeling that while she could not see, she was not as blind as she appeared.

Aang gathered his tarp around him, clutching the ends together tightly to keep his person completely cloaked. Just as he began to shuffle out of the way, the man lifted his leg, and booted him directly in the behind.

"I said MOVE!"

Aang landed in an ungrateful pile on the ground, face-first in the dirt. The airbender was tired. He was tired in a way that no rest would satisfy. He wanted to remain in the dirt forever, never moving from this sole location. Unbeknownst to avatar, tears were running down his face, creating mud in the earth. It was as if he had turned to stone. He would have remained pressed against the ground, a statue forever stuck in time, if it were not for the bare feet that paused before him.

"Are you okay?" A high-pitch voice filtered into the boy's consciousness.

Raising his dirt-streaked face, Aang found himself looking up to the little blind girl. Her unseeing eyes looked down upon the airbender with sympathy. Aang's heartbeat slowed to match the girl's, and in that moment, they were one. They were connected in a way neither could explain.

"Toph, let's go!" With her father's barking voice, the moment was broken. He grabbed his daughter's arm and pulled her away from the "piece of homeless trash," as he had so dubbed Aang in his angry tirade to his daughter as they walked from the scene.

"Are you okay?" asked the old woman who ran the soup stall.

"Yeah," Aang murmured, wiping the muck and tears from his face. "I'm fine."

The elderly woman looked around conspiratorially, before leaning close to the boy. She was close enough to probably smell that he had not bathed in many moons, but she did not seem bothered. "After the last market stall closes, I want you to meet me in the alley behind the butcher's shop."

Aang was immediately suspicious. The woman had never treated Aang in any ill fashion, but after months of only having himself to trust, he was weary of suddenly relying on any other person. "Why?"

If possible, the woman leaned in even closer, her lips brushing the edge of his ear, "Because I know you're the avatar."

Aang pulled back sharply, as if he had been burned. His grey eyes widened, taking in every line and wrinkle that mapped the woman's leathery skin. "What are you-"

"I see you here every day, boy," the woman cut him off. "After a while, you begin to notice things."

'What had I done?' Aang thought to himself. Where did I go wrong? Aang had been so careful to never let his tattoos show. He had refrained from any sort of bending. The boy hardly spoke a word to the woman except, "Thanks," when she would feed him in the evenings. Every single move had been calculated, and yet he must have slipped up some time. Months of hiding and suffrage was about to be ruined by someone's grandmother.

The elder's emerald eyes had an amused sheen as she took in the avatar's inner turmoil. "Do you really want to live the rest of your life on the street?"

Aang immediately shook his head no. Even though Aang had no idea what his future held and where to go, he knew that he did not want to be stuck in this market square until he died.

"Well then, meet me in the alley. I'll be waiting." With that, the woman immediately began to close up shop, hours earlier than what was typical for her. She must really be serious about this proposition if she was willing to lose some prime customers during a busy market day.

Aang remained behind, running the conversation through his head. Should he trust the woman, and meet her as requested? If he stayed behind, where would that leave him? Would she rat him out to the Fire Nation, or would she merely leave him, starving like the street rat he had become? When Aang thought about it, he really knew nothing about this woman – not even her name.

In reality, what was left of Aang if he chose not to meet with the woman? Living off the streets was not a sustainable lifestyle, especially when you are the most wanted person in the entire world. He wasn't doing anyone any favors by hiding, like the coward he was quickly becoming. Aang had run from his responsibilities for the last century. Perhaps it was time for the avatar to reemerge.

Making his decision, Aang rose from his perch that had become his home in the last several months. The street almost seemed to have sunk from where he would sit crouching day in and day out. Aang headed to a stream just outside of the village that he had discovered on his first day in Gaoling. With no one in sight, the airbender finally let his tarp fall from his shoulders, leaving him exposed to the world. If anyone had come upon him then, there would be no mistake – the avatar had returned.

Even though he had rid himself of his airbending habit, Aang could not bear to part with his traditional airbending razor. It had been a present from Monk Gyatso himself, and keeping the innocuous object on his person made Aang feel like he was just a bit closer to his perished master. Months of disuse had left the blade sharp. It was just as Aang had first seen it many years ago. Before his jump into the future, Aang had sharpened and oiled his razor every day to keep it in pristine condition. Aang was grateful for his ablutions now, as when the razor made its first clean path across his scalp, it had felt like coming home.

Clumps of dark, greasy hair washed away in the stream, along with months of doubt and anguish. Aang could hide no longer. It was time to step up and take his duty to the world seriously. It was time to step into his role, if not for himself, then for Monk Gyatso and all those that passed waiting for the avatar's return. Despite his new resolve, the boy was not completely back to new. He was still too thin, what little muscle mass he had before had melted away, and left him with a sickly skeletal frame. Aang still did not know who to trust, but months of living off other's charity had taught him that while there was evil everywhere, there was also good.

So many people had left him change or bits of food. Without them, he would have starved to death. They didn't do it because he was some "avatar" or "savior," but rather because it was the right thing to do. Now it was Aang's turn to do the right thing. He had no idea what the old woman wanted, but no matter what happened, he knew he could not go back to his anonymity on the street. That chapter of his life was over.

As the sun set over the horizon, and the market stalls of Gaoling closed for the night, Aang wandered through to streets, trying to steel his mind and his heart, as he made his way to the butcher's shop. The streets seemed oddly empty. Aang did not even run into the occasional straggler. It was as if the city itself had granted Aang permission to walk through its roads, unheeded by his tarp. He was not going to conceal his identity. Whatever that was going to come, he was going to face it as the avatar.

Aang turned into the alley behind the shop, and was greeted by a group of five young men, all in their early twenties. The airbender's hackles immediately went up when he saw their eyes trace his arrow tattoos, fully on display.

"Ex-excuse me," Aang stuttered out, failing to keep his voice steady. "Have any of you seen an old woman?"

"Fuck, it really is the avatar," gasped the smallest boy in the back of the pack.

The boy at the front of the pack, with eyes as green as a viper, let out a dry chuckle. "What do you know, Mom hasn't lost it after all."

Aang's eyebrows scrunched together as the pieces began to slowly come together. "Your mom?"

"Sells soup," the young man stepped right up into Aang's space, leering down his long nose, "Nice lady, isn't she?"

The smallest boy and one so thin, he looked like a good breeze would snap him in half, grabbed Aang's arms, securing him in place.

"What are you doing?" Aang gasped, trying to wiggle out of their grasp.

"You've been gone a long time, avatar," the soup merchant's son, who was obviously the leader, pontificated, "You might have noticed, that we aren't doing so well here in the Earth Kingdom." The young man spread his arms, as if to prove a point, but all there was to take in was the faded brick of the buildings.

"A couple months ago, my dear old mother came across a bit of Fire Nation propaganda, claiming that the avatar had returned. This wasn't the first time the Fire-Dicks came out with some bullshit like this."

The rest of the boys began snarling and hissing, as if burned by the mere mention of the Fire Nation.

"We all ignored it. What good was an imaginary avatar? We had work to do," the young man began to circle the avatar, running a slender finger over the gentle curve of Aang's bald head. "Then one day, my mother started talking about this little homeless boy she would feed now and again. Mentioned that this boy had some very peculiar tattoos peeking out onto his hands."

Aang clenched his fists, feeling foolish. He thought he had been so careful. These tattoos that Aang had been so proud to wear when he first got them, now branded him as an outsider and an outcast.

The man began to trace the very peak of Aang's arrow tattoo, stopping on the center of his forehead. "Of course, I thought my mother was crazy, but then again, how many little boys have tattoos? Airbending tattoos? As a favor to my mother, I decided I would start hanging around the market to see if I could catch a glimpse of these ever-so elusive tattoos." The man began drumming out a rhythm against the apex of his arrow. "Today, I got lucky."

Aang closed his eyes, remembering the man that shoved him into the ground. He thought he had kept himself concealed, but obviously not well enough. Even just the smallest hint of blue would have been enough to confirm the theory of an already suspicious person.

"What are you going to do with me?" Aang pulled back against the men holding him down to no avail.

"I was going to sell you to the Fire Nation. The avatar would fetch a pretty penny." The finger on his forehead made its way down the gentle curve of his cheek, and into the hollow of his throat. "Now, I think I'm going to keep you for myself, instead."

The young man smiled a smile that contained too many teeth, all as yellow as corn. Aang could feel the bile rising in his throat. He suddenly wished for his moldy, smelly tarp. At least then there would be a barrier between the man's finger and Aang's flesh. With his green eyes and yellow teeth and pale finger, Aang felt far too exposed. He had to leave now.

With a big gust of air, Aang knocked the men hanging on his arms off of him. Like water bursting from a dam, all the power that Aang had been holding back these past several months, came bursting out. With a large air slice, Aang took down the man with the lecherous grin. The slice ripped his robes from his body, leaving him as naked as Aang felt.

Aang ran. He flowed with the wind, air propelling him forward. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew that he had to get out of Gaoling. The shops rushed past him in a blur. Cool air brushed over his bald head, leaving a tingling sensation that settled into his bones. Cries from random citizens were swept up and disappeared in the breeze. There was no question left. The avatar had definitely returned.

Gaoling was far behind him, and yet the boy kept running. Green, rolling hills, dusted with frost, turned into sharp peaks of mountains, before settling back out into plains. Aang could have been running for hours or for just a few mere minutes, he had no way to know for sure. The ocean was quickly approaching in the distance. Aang suddenly had a vision of running across the entire expanse of the ocean. The water becoming solid under his feet. He would run until he reached the Southern Air Temple. There he would find all of his friends. He would find Monk Gyatso, sitting amongst the elders. Aang would have even been happy with seeing Monk Tashi. Unfortunately, these were just boyish fantasies. There was no one waiting for him.

Aang stopped running once he reached the point where the ocean just kissed the beach's shore. The moon was just a slight sliver in the sky. The darkness made the ocean's water appear as black as coal. Everything was still. Not a single creature could pierce the blanket of silence that smothered the beach. Falling to his knees, Aang let all his pent up energy flow out. There was no one. There was nothing. Taking a deep breath, Aang let out a scream.

"Are you alright there, son?" Aang quickly scrambled to his feet, holding his arms out in a defensive stature against the intruder.

The man held up his hands in surrender. "Woah, there. I'm not going to hurt you."

Aang took in the man's dark skin, and Water Tribe clothes. He had two braids that flowed with his hair. He appeared to be alone and unarmed, but that never stopped anyone so far. Aang did not know who this man was. He might be ready to capture the boy and sell him for parts the moment he stood down.

"How can I trust you?" Aang snarled, his voice almost unrecognizable.

The man just shrugged. "You can't. You have no idea who I am, but I am pretty sure I know who you are."

Aang's body coiled tightly like a spring, ready to lash out. "You know nothing."

"Very true," he nodded. "The older I get, the less I seem to know." The man's lips quirked into a smile. Aang had no idea what he found so amusing. He was at the avatar's mercy, yet here he was, actual as if this was all just a casual conversation. "Do you mind if I put my hands down? I hurt my shoulder recently in a fight against some Fire Nation soldiers. The doc said I shouldn't do anything strenuous for a while."

Aang's eyes flickered across the man. It was true, his right side was bunched up as if it was as struggle just to raise his arm at all. His eyes were wrinkled in pain. The avatar nodded, not getting out of his own defensive stance.

"Thanks," the man cracked his neck. He held his hand out. "My name is Hakoda, I'm the chief of the Southern Water Tribe."

Aang just eyed his hand, not making a move to take it. "What's the chief of the Water Tribe doing out here in the Earth Kingdom."

"My village is nearly gone from relentless attacks from the Fire Nation. They even killed my wife," Hakoda paused, closing his eyes briefly. "I took the men of our village, and we came here, to help in the war effort."

Hakoda seemed sincere, but then again, so did the old woman in Gaoling. "What do you plan to do now that you have found me?"

Haokda gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell would I want with a kid?"

Aang blinked. That took him by surprise. "You don't know who I am?"

"No," Hakoda replied. "Should I?"

Laughter erupted from Aang, deep within his belly. It had been a long time since he laughed. "No, I guess no."

"I have some kids about your age," Hakoda started, "and I don't know if it is the father in me, but I have to ask, are you okay?"

"I don't know," Aang responded, still chuckling to himself.

"Do you have anywhere to go? Any family? Friends?"

Aang shook his head, "No. Not really."

Haokda cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure out a complex problem. "A few of our men, they're wounded pretty badly, and they're missing home. They are planning on taking a boat back to our village. Why don't you go with them?"

Aang had a thousand arguments as to why that would be a bad idea. He had no idea who this man was. Every time Aang had trusted someone in this new world, they had shown him exactly why trust was a fool's game. Yet, for some reason, Aang felt himself trusting in this man. It was as if something deeper was starting to brew. Something important. Besides, Aang figured, if he was truly going to step up as the avatar, he would have to start learning water bending. Where better to go than a Water Tribe?

"Sure," Aang agreed, "why not?"

Hakoda clapped one of his large hands on Aang's shoulder in a paternal fashion. His bright blue eyes swimming gleefully at the boy. "Do me one favor, will you, son?"

"Sure."

"Say 'hi' to Katara and Sokka for me, will you?"