Hello fellow readers! I'm new at this site and ever since avatar had aired I've been eager to write a fic. about it. This story, however, revolves around my original character Ping, or Duckweed as her master likes to call her. The point of this story is for Ping to develop during the series as planned out by me. I will warn you this is also a love fic between Ping and Prince Zuko but that's farther on the story when Ping develops a back bone. Other then that I will try to make this an action pack story full of twists and such…. I guess that covers it. Read, enjoy, and criticize
Chapter One
Ping, with silent footfalls, strolled up the steep steps that slowly led her up to her masters hidden temple. No one was around to spot her in her late night stroll; especially not the oppressive fire benders who had taken an interest in patrolling her village for the past few weeks. It was, to say the least, the first peaceful night Ping had ever witnessed since the coming of the fire nation and to her that was the only rare remedy that relieved her of her stressful days.
A still silence settled between the thick tree branches. The wooden limbs shifted away loose, dried up, leafs that often crunched underneath Ping's cotton slippers. The rigid air caught the young girls breath in a small cloud, and specs of snow dangled slowly down on the cold earth or collected above the large forest canopy. Ping couldn't see beyond the tree tops, but she had figured the sky had a darker shade since she left her house a couple of hours ago.
Ping was a meek girl whose natural warrior spirit vanished between the times of war and strong tides to survive the defeat of the enemy. Like the rest of the villagers, Ping, lacked the ancient art of water bending which was perfectly normal and the safest way of living. The Fire Nation wouldn't have wanted otherwise; as their corrupted system farther bullied what was left of the war; woman, children, the old, and the handicapped. But, right under there nose, after months of hiding and being pushed over the edge, Ping-- along with other brave rebellious villagers-- trained under the rule of one of the most dangerous lethal man around, Master Mao. All they needed now was more practice before their rebellious group strike back.
By the time Ping sauntered to the head of the long staircase, she was greeted by the luminous blue moon dipped in curled clouds. It's silver rays illuminated the exterior of her masters domain-- that happened to have been coated in more snow than any house in her village--. At first glance one would have mistaken it to be an old abandon hut in the middle of nowhere, being that it lacked the impressive features of a true temple; with its long towering roofs that lifted to the sides and half-way reached the sky by its pointy head. The walls weren't even made of marble brick just bamboo wood. That, however, was Mao Zeng Dong's temple that had rotted away after years of standing tall and protective of the water tribe. It was feeble and old much like the owner. Collecting dust and snow along with the smell of dew.
Not to far away seated on the foot of the porch clad in traditional long blue robes, Master Mao Zeng Dong, cradled his beloved cup of sake between bony fingers. The long strands of gray hair were pulled tightly into its usual knot. His white mustache, like the whiskers of a dragon, were long enough to wrap around his large belly; cascaded freely to the end of his dark sash. With one lengthy sip of his sake, he set his cup down on the short wooden table then turned to Ping expectantly.
"What took you, Duckweed?" The old man scolded, his curved nose flatten down his white mustache in a haughty puff of air.
Ping mumbled a quick apology." It was like finding a needle in a haystack, Master, besides the fact that the snow ruined the little plantation we had, it was hard enough to get past the guards without raising any sus--"
" Don't give me excuses", Master Mao cut in sharply," and take it like a man."
A short pause followed in which Ping crossed the snow glazed grass. Her slippers squeaked on the surface of the wooden floorboards of her masters porch until they came to a halt just before the old man. The pouch strapped around her shoulder held any herb she could find at this time of year, which wasn't enough to cure a life threatening ill-ness, much to her dislike. The old man took his time to sip down the warm liquor before speaking in his usual distasteful tone.
"No that's not right you're a woman. They're not fit to do a mans job." Mao added as an after thought.
Ping gritted her teeth swallowing the many comebacks that formed from the top of her head. Instead she muttered another apology and forgiveness.
Even before she was bonded to her master like a dog, she still knew in advance that becoming a pupil to the master of the north pole would have its consequences and she knew she wasn't the only one being harassed every once in a while so she let it slide.
Her facial expression, if you ignored her tightly clenched jaw, was neutral as she faced her master's sager face.
" Now go patch up that girl, I don't want blood stains in my covers."
" Yes Master"
She bowed to her master then trotted inside. Moments passed when Ping stuck her head out from the doorframe. Her face took a more comical look as she gave Master Mao a apologetic smile, which seemed forced with her mouth twisted uneven to the sides.
"Umm master Mao, where's the--
"In the guest room, your guest room, duckweed" The old hermit and master water bender said, without shifting his tedious black eyes to meet her face. "Oh and don't take a lantern with you, there's already one in the room."
"Right"
She disappeared from view. The soft thuds of her footfalls faded away.
"That girl," The old man mumbled. In his agitation he sighed out loud. A habit he recently adopted during his years around his successor, Ping. " To believe that klutz will soon inherit the final technique."
Past short pocket rooms, and the small inner dojo, Ping's steady walk led her to the far end of the hall. The flimsy paper doors to her room gave away a sharp gasp when Ping forced them open. The rays filtered through her small window and inside her simple furnished room: A nightstand with the glass oil lamp prop near the edge, casting away the shadows, a thin mattress opposite to the only window in the room.-- Ping could make out a small lump within the twisted covers and every once in a while see it move just enough to catch a breath of air.-- and among other things her desk that was the closes thing to a study area cornered away from her furniture. Scrolls, books, ink bottles and quills made up the top surface and connected shelf's.
Getting to work Ping walked up to the small lump. She was surprised to see a pretty girl around her age under the blankets. Even if her entire being was coated in mud, sweat, and blood she still had a far more angelic look then Ping could ever have.
Ping skin had a dark uneven tan obtained through hard labor under the glare of the sun. Her hair, a long untamed mass of black wisp twisted into her typical loose bun. Dull brown orbs with slanted lids. She was no beauty, that she could admit. Her thin parched lips and bony body added on to the list of plain below average traits. Ping shook away the negative thoughts. If she kept on her low self esteem would diminish into nothing.
Ping observed the girls cream colored skin that was scared with small gashes. Her long brown hair matted in warm crimson liquid.
'An injury to the head, not good', Ping thought taking out her pouch from her shoulders and tearing open it's leather lid. From within the bag she produced a even smaller paper bag. In it small portion of herbs half dried up but still usable.
'I promise this wont hurt,' Ping struggled to see past the dark shadows that formed over the little light from both the moon and the lantern. She parted the girls tangled hair and started working on the open wound.
A two hour effort was all it took to stitch close the open tissue from her head and any other large gash. The blood had stopped flowing and only traces of it was plastered to her brown hair down along one side of her face. Her blue attire had bloody blotches that stick to her body with tears. But like the open tissues, Ping too, stitched the tears back together; folding them besides the futon and bringing the covers up to her chin. She may have appeared dead but she was far from it. Her breathings were deep and her limbs would twitch. Sometimes her eyes would flutter open in a daze revealing bright blue eyes and an emotion, may be pain Ping figured, but as quickly as they opened they'd close.
"I guess that's it." Ping swatted away the sweat from the top of her dark brow in relief. She could feel the beads of sweet travel down the loose strands of her black hair. The great amount of blood made her weary almost nauseas but the questions that have been building up since she saw the girl in such a bad condition kept her awake. 'Who could've done this? The Fire Nation perhaps? No couldn't be, there would have been burns and all I see is blood.'
Without realizing it the room had gotten darker. Ping turned around towards the window only to witness a moonless sky. It was dipped below the large twisted mountain tops from the far end of the horizon. The star spangled sky was still dark, perhaps even darker now that the face of the moon hid behind some mountain.
"Who…" A soft weak voice question.
Ping looked down on the girl who was tucked under two sheets of blankets. Her blue eyes lingered on the ceiling, bright, and unfocused.
"Hi there", Ping timidly said.
The foreigner, she supposed by the look of the strangers clothes, shifted her eyes slowly towards Ping. A moments silence followed and the tension grew thick. Ping felt uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze.
"Who are you, and where am I". The sentence came out forced, laced in pain but the girl did not appear to wince against it.
"I'm Masuko Ping and your in the outskirts of Kita Village," Ping said in her best reassuring words. She stood up stretching her aching legs. "Now you stay put while I go get a glass of water for you"
"No!" The girl cried out sharply.
It took Ping by surprise that the weak girl could yell out even with a dry throat. Puzzled Ping repeated just that "No? Is something wrong?" Pause. " You shouldn't be moving, your going to outdo yourself."
The brunette girl sat up with much difficulty brushing away Ping's heed.
"No seriously don't do that. Your going to re-open your wounds." Ping said, now crouching down on her legs.
The girl struggled back up when Ping gently pushed her down. Reluctantly and against her better verdict, Ping pinched a pressure point around the girls neck. She didn't fell limp immediately but instead uttering a few scrambled phrases Ping had figured to have meant:" Must find Aang brother." before falling in a dreamless sleep.
'More of them? That cant be good,' Ping thought,' Outsiders are not allowed to venture in the village especially not when a band of fire benders are out there.' Out of the blue her better side felt a warm pride for her master even if it was just a small spark of warmth. He
actually went out of his way to save an outsider, something either stupid or very generous for a person to do, it was his way of proving he had a heart.
Her thoughts were cut short when the sliding doors to her room flew open with a squeak. Ping, surprised, jumped up from her crouching position only to come to face a fellow villager and trainee of Master Mao. He was old. Somewhere near his early 20s- his long red hair slicked to the back in a short ponytail, pale gray eyes excitedly darted from every corner of the room before landing on a confused Ping. She couldn't quite place a name on him. 'Was it Haku?'
"Quick Leiko gonna' fight tha' o'd fart!" Haku, as Ping had dubbed, eagerly said in his thick accent. "It's a show do'n!"
As excited as he was he didn't bother to see Ping's reaction as his heels sharply turned and he madly sprinted back outside.
Ping walked up to the doorframe poking her head out to see an empty hall. Before she could dash to the training area, were she presumed the fight to take place, she turned to her guest and secretly vowed she would help her in any way possible.
What is the final technique?
What happened to Katara?
Where is Aang and Sokka?
Who the hell is LeikoL? And why is he pickin' a fight with Master Mao?
I do think I left it in a cliff hanger. All these questions will soon be answered in my next chapter, but for now review and give me some constructive criticism if you please. Thanks for wasting your time on my first fic.
Next update might be during this weekend or the next. (That's if my fic is worth peoples' time. This fic. May be boring for the time being but I promise the next one will be a lot more exciting) I think that covers it.
