Aang
"You can't play with us anymore."
"Yeah, you have too much of an advantage now."
"It wouldn't be fair, Aang."
Amid the sincere and truthfully apologies, Aang hung his head and walked away. He couldn't bring himself to watch his friends play a whimsical game without him.
Slowly he walked around the temple, trying to find joy in the laughter of the flying lemurs or peace in the gentle hums of the flying bison. But wherever he went, he was met with stares. Stares of jealousy from the older students, stares of hope from the older denizens of the temple, stares of loss from his own mentor, Monk Gyatso.
Aang knew that he needed a friend in this time, so he stole off to the kitchens and crept back to the apple baskets. He stole as many apples as he could carry tucked safely away in his tunic and flew on lazy currents to the bison staples at the southern face of the mountain sanctuary.
Appa was probably hungry.
What Aang found broke his heart. The other bison calves had pushed the small creature out of the air where they had been frolicking about in the winds. Appa stood at the stable's threshold with longing at his brothers and sisters.
"Appa!" Aang cried out, "Come here boy."
The little white creature bounded happily over to his friend and master, plowing Aang into the straw.
Aang produced the apples from his tunic, and while Appa hurried ate them, Aang stroked his fur.
"Looks like it's just gonna be you and me, buddy, from here on out. Being the spirit guide of the avatar isolates you too," Aang lamented.
Appa gave a low, mournful roar in response.
"We're all alone."