I felt my body colliding with metal, and I regained consciousness with a snap. My hands were bound tightly together and I was in what appeared to be the hull of a ship. The soldiers who had taken me were gone, and men in different uniform stood outside of my cell, obviously guards. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I could catch bits and pieces of the conversation.
"Keep her…"
"…not a threat."
"I suppose…"
"…prisoners…"
"…yard…"
"…dinner."
From what I could hear they were going to let the prisoners into the yard at dinner time. Well, that could be something to look forward to. I was interested in seeing what the other prisoners were like. The cold metal of the cell wall sent shivers up my spine as I leaned back and glanced around. Not that there was much to glance at. Just a small iron cot over in the corner with a musty mattress and dirty wool blanket. I walked over and sat down on the bed, if you could call it that. It was exactly three paces from one end of the room to the other. As I sat down, a cloud of dust billowed from the disturbed sheets. I coughed and gazed out the small, barred window near the ceiling. I hoped that Mother and Song were alright. This was the first time that Song and I had been apart, probably since birth. And Mother was getting older, and the stress couldn't be good for her health. The floor seemed to rock a bit, probably meaning that the ship was setting sail. I sighed, and wondered, Why? I knew that a war was waging, the Fire Nation trying to conquer all, but why was I in prison right now? Was it because I was a bender? I was nothing but a young girl, not even having mastered the element yet. How could I possibly be considered a threat? I must have been deep in thought, because before I knew it the cell doors were being opened and a guard was yelling "Slop's on!"
I cautiously approached the door and peered into the hall before venturing out for dinner. There were many people heading towards the deck, so I decided to follow. Along the way, I spotted a sharp corner wall protruding from an intersection of the hallway. I quickly used it to cut the bindings off of my wrists, and saw that they were already raw and red. I left the ropes in a growing pile I saw on the floor, and continued on with the crowd. People were pushing and shoving, this way and that. One time I was knocked hard against the steel wall. With so many prisoners, I wondered how big the ship must be. I could see the stairway leading upward, and realized how far it was from my cell that I had walked. I started up the stairs, and was freed from the claustrophobia of the cramped hall. The sunlight on the deck was blinding compared to the darkness of the hull. I raised my newly-freed hands to my face for relief, and got a better look at the other prisoners. From what I could tell, they all appeared to be scruffy, tired men, aging from mid thirties to even seventies. I couldn't see any other women, and I was clearly the only person under twenty five. A table set up on the far side of the deck was stocked with wooden bowls of what appeared to be some sort of soup. My stomach rumbled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten since the previous morning. I made my way over to the table and picked up a bowl, grimacing. The contents were brown and chunky, in a muddy colored liquid. It smelled like rotten caribou-deer, and most certainly did not seem edible. My stomach growled again, and I reluctantly brought a spoonful to my mouth. It was like eating the contents of a dirty gutter, and if I wasn't nearly to the point of starving I would have spit it out. I forced it down and shoved in another bite. Soon, though, I had it finished and felt sick. Not to mention the aftertaste was terrible! I thought of Mother's roast duck. It was wonderful, and she prepared it perfectly. My stomach lurched, wanting to reject the meal. If Mother were here, she would bring me herbal tea, and it would help me feel better. At one point, thinking about how much I missed my family, a tear must have slid down my cheek. I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and looked up. A sturdy man, appearing to be around his mid forties, was standing above me with a worried and caring gaze. I must have looked small and frightened, which would not be far from how I felt.
"Is everything alright, child? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I replied quietly. "I was just thinking of my Mother."
"How old are you? You seem quite young to be in a place like this."
"Fourteen, sir."
"Those monsters…" he mumbled. "Say, why are you here?"
I painfully remembered yesterday's events.
"The soldiers came to our home, and I was trying to protect my sister and I. I tried using a technique that my Father taught me when he found out I was a bender, long ago before he left to fight in the war."
Why was I being so open with this complete stranger? He seemed like he really cared, and had almost a nurturing air to him.
"You poor girl. I have a son about your age, and I remember teaching him bending. We only covered all of the basics, but those soldiers you mentioned brought me here about a year ago, before we could do anything more advanced."
"My Father only taught me one move, a simple one, yet I struggled with it after he left. All I could do was move a small rock, and apparently it was just effective enough to be considered bending."
I yawned, the day being long and hard.
"Well, then. You sure look tired. Do you mind if I walk you back to your cell? I'm not sure you're cut out to be roaming this place by yourself yet."
"Sure. Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it. And by the way, call me Tyro."
Wow, loving the way this is turning out so far! Please leave your comments in the review box! ;)
