Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is the sole property of its creators and Nickelodeon. The only thing I'm getting out of this is some good fun.
They'd seen the ships, alright. Unnatural ships – wooden ships far bigger than their own fishing boats. He knew something was up then, and the other men mumbled about it as they hauled in the nets.
"They're headed to the Big Island, I suppose."
"Wonder what they're about."
What followed was strange -- a darkening of the sky that spooked the water sloths and startled the women. Some of the local soldiers complained about being unable to firebend during those few hours, but they never really had much use for bending so nobody really cared. Shortly after, the soldiers all left. They never said why.
He suspected there was trouble. They all did. They'd seen enough trouble for enough generations to know when something was in the air. It mingled with the salty western winds and caught against the mountain range, clouding the townsfolk's minds just as well as a building storm front.
But the week went on as before, early mornings spent casting their nets and late evenings mending them. Only the women seemed to voice their concerns, throwing guarded looks at the kids as they did so.
"I heard that Ozai was killed, and the Avatar, too."
He looked up from the net across his knee and removed the pipe stem from the well-worn notch in his tooth. "You've heard no such thing, wife. No one's heard anything. Not for days now."
"You'll burn yourself if you keep swinging that bowl around."
He grunted and clenched the pipe in his mouth again. The night wore on.
Trouble only came to their shores when the supply boats stopped. No more spices, and the women complained loudly. The fine Earth Kingdom salt they had to replace with good old-fashioned sea salt, and some took to growing what few herbs they could in the rocky ground. But it was no volcanic soil like on the main island, and soon there were no fruits or vegetables, either. The women bemoaned themselves, and he had to hush his wife several times on the matter. After all, they were just vegetables. The ocean gave them everything they needed.
The lamp oil soon ran out, and they resorted to using koi-fish oil. It didn't burn quite as brightly as the processed fuel of the mainland, and left a far less pleasant smell. Then the paper began to disappear, and they had to make due during devotionals at the temple. There was no more fabric to make clothes, and on many a night, his net would grow a little shorter during the mending.
But few words were spoken on the matter among the fishermen. What could they say? If the ships didn't run, then the ships didn't run. The men pushed on, trying to survive the best they could.
When the boats sprang leaks, they tried to fix them with the little pitch they had, and when a boat was too badly damaged, the owner'd scrap the wood for other men to use. Some villagers were left without livelihoods, and they had to band together to help out neighbors whose traps had just been smashed beyond repair on the reefs.
"I heard that Prince Zuko has given up the country. I heard that there's no one to take over. That there's no more ships coming."
"You heard no such thing." He began to put his pipe between his teeth, then remembered that the fire leaves had run out weeks ago. "The ships will come again. Sure as the tide, they'll come again." And with a final glance at the oil lamp's fading light, he went back to work on his net.