Kya had a secret.
In truth, the Southern Water Tribe did not possess one, but two young waterbenders. It was a secret that burned in her chest, a truth she guarded as fiercely as her own life. The Southern Raiders, however, had their suspicions. Their relentless patrols and brutal interrogations revealed they knew about one. Only one. And as long as that stayed true, she had a chance to protect her children.
"There are no waterbenders!" Kya's voice cracked as she screamed, desperation fueling her words. She glared at the Fire Nation captain before her, his fiery presence filling the tent with an oppressive heat. He loomed like a storm, flames flickering at his fingertips, threatening to burst forth.
"Don't lie to me!" he snarled, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Your pitiful tribe can barely survive out here, and yet you expect me to believe you've managed to hide a waterbender?"
Kya's heart thundered in her chest, but she held his gaze, refusing to falter. "There is no one. Your informant is wrong!" she spat, forcing steel into her voice.
His expression twisted into one of fury, his patience wearing thin. "My informant has never failed me," he growled, stepping closer, his shadow engulfing her. "Do you think you can protect them by lying? All you've done is waste my time."
The captain raised his voice, addressing the shadows beyond the tent. "Bring the prisoners! If she won't cooperate, we'll make the others talk!"
Kya's blood ran cold. Her tribe. Her people. They had already suffered so much—starvation, endless raids, the slow, agonizing collapse of their once-proud culture. And now, because of her, they would endure even more.
Her mind raced. She could see Sokka's face, his defiant scowl as he practiced with his boomerang, dreaming of one day protecting their tribe. She could see Katara, her gentle hands weaving water through the air in secret, still too young to fully understand the weight of her gift.
She couldn't let the Fire Nation find them.
"It's me!" she cried, her voice raw and trembling. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to stand tall, her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm the waterbender you're looking for!"
The captain froze, his smirk slowly returning. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, his voice dripping with condescension. His dark eyes gleamed with triumph, his earlier frustration vanishing in an instant. "You should've confessed earlier. It would've saved your people so much... trouble."
Kya bit her lip, swallowing the bitter lump in her throat. Her chest ached with the weight of her decision, but she refused to look away from him.
The captain raised his hand, flames springing to life and casting a harsh, orange glow across the tent. The heat was suffocating, and Kya's instincts screamed at her to fight, to protect herself—but she held firm.
"You could have spared the entire tribe," he sneered, his voice venomous, "but no matter. This will be quick."
Time seemed to slow as the fire roared to life, a searing inferno consuming the space. The tent was bathed in blinding light, and then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
When the flames died, he was gone and had left the water tribe with one less member
Sokka and Katara had a tradition, one they had held close ever since their mother passed. They vowed to keep her memory alive, to honour the woman who had loved them fiercely and taken joy in even their smallest accomplishments. Kya had adored their waterbending displays, her laughter ringing out whenever they practiced together. Even Sokka, who often downplayed his abilities, had enjoyed showing off for her.
This morning, Katara was determined to keep that tradition alive.
"Come on, Sokka," she called, standing outside their hut with her arms crossed. The cold morning air whipped at her parka, but she barely noticed. "If we don't practice now, we'll miss our chance before chores!"From inside came the unmistakable sound of Sokka snoring.
Katara sighed. Waking her brother was always a battle. Still, she had her methods. With a sly smile, she pulled water from a nearby bucket, shaping it into a massive snowball nearly a meter across. She carefully floated it over the sleeping lump that was Sokka.
"Three... two... one..."
The snowball melted in midair, drenching him in an icy deluge.
"GAAAAH!" Sokka shot up, flailing as water poured over him. "Katara!" he spluttered. "What is wrong with you? That's not how you wake someone up!"
Katara burst out laughing, clutching her sides. "Sounds like you should get up earlier then! Unless you like spending the morning soaked!"
"Ugh, fine," he grumbled, shaking himself off like a drenched otter-penguin. "I'm up, okay? Happy now?" He held out his hands, palms down, and pushed sharply. The water clinging to his clothes peeled away in shimmering ribbons, leaving him completely dry.
Katara smirked. "Nice trick. I thought you said waterbending wasn't your thing?"
"It's not," Sokka replied, crossing his arms. "It's just magic that's going extinct. I'm a warrior, remember? I just happen to be decent at this because I'm good at everything."
"Right," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "You mean wrestling with water like it's a polar bear-dog?"
"Exactly!" Sokka declared, puffing out his chest. "That's the true spirit of waterbending. Fighting it, pushing it to its limits—that's where the fun is!"
Katara stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "You do realize waterbending is about going with the flow, right? Not wrestling it into submission?"
"Flow's overrated," he shot back. "Water respects strength. You just don't see it because you're too busy twirling around like it's some kind of dance recital."
Katara groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sokka, you're literally caught up to the intermediate forms. You're good. But you'd be great if you just stopped fighting the water."
"Why would I stop?" Sokka asked, grinning. "Fighting's the best part. Besides, this 'magic' is disappearing anyway, right? Gotta enjoy it while it lasts."
Katara frowned, her expression softening. "It's not disappearing," she said quietly. "Not as long as we keep practicing. Not as long as we keep it alive."
Sokka hesitated, her words cutting through his usual bravado. He glanced at the scroll Katara had tucked under her arm. Their father's gift. A rare treasure he had worked so hard to find for them.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. But seriously, who gives their kids a scroll this big for their birthday? I can barely carry the thing."
Katara giggled, pulling out the scroll and unfurling it. The intricate diagrams and flowing text stretched across the parchment, outlining waterbending techniques from the basics to the intermediate level.
"Dad wanted us to be prepared," she said. "And for the record, I've memorized everything up to the intermediate forms. How about you?"
Sokka raised an eyebrow. "What do you think? Of course I've memorized them. I'm not that far behind, you know."
"Really?" Katara teased. "Because last time I checked, your ice spikes looked more like slush."
"Hey, I've perfected the ice spikes!" he said indignantly. "They're just... less precise than yours. But that's because they're more dangerous."
Katara laughed. "Sure, Sokka. Keep telling yourself that."
Sokka couldn't help but smile, despite himself. Their banter always left him feeling a little lighter, like he wasn't carrying the weight of the world entirely alone.
"All right," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's do this. But don't cry when I beat you at whatever ridiculous form you want to try today."
Katara smirked. "We'll see about that."
Together, they stepped out onto the open snow, their breath misting in the crisp air. As Katara began demonstrating a new move, Sokka fell into step beside her. He might call waterbending "magic," and he might prefer wrestling with it like a warrior, but deep down, he couldn't deny how much it meant to him—to both of them.
As the morning sun rose higher, Sokka and Katara parted ways to tackle their daily tasks. For Katara, chores were a breeze thanks to her waterbending—a fact Sokka never let her hear the end of.
"'Normal girl chores,'" he'd mock, grumbling under his breath. She had every advantage. Laundry? She could whip up a vortex to clean clothes faster than anyone else in the tribe. Heating water for cooking or washing? A flick of her wrist and she had it steaming. It wasn't fair. Sure, she called it "practical waterbending," but to Sokka, it was basically cheating.
Meanwhile, his day was shaping up to be actual work.
He crouched low behind a ridge of snow, scanning the tundra with sharp eyes. In the distance, a herd of seals moved lazily across the frozen expanse. Sokka adjusted his boomerang at his side and gripped the spear he had crafted himself.
A sigh escaped him as he studied the seals. He was a good hunter—better, in fact, than a version of himself without bending. Throwing an ice spike at an unsuspecting seal guaranteed a kill. But today's task wasn't about him; it was about passing on those skills.
Behind him, ten boys between the ages of eight and ten shuffled impatiently, their breaths visible in the frigid air. Their wide-eyed enthusiasm was paired with equal parts doubt, and Sokka could feel their nervous energy from where he stood.
He sighed and waved them over. "All right, gather around, everyone!"
The boys trudged through the snow, forming a loose semicircle around their young leader.
"Today," Sokka began, his voice full of bravado, "we're going to hunt that herd of seals." He gestured dramatically toward the animals in the distance.
The boys exchanged nervous glances, a mix of awe and skepticism spreading across their faces.
"How do you plan to do that?" one of them asked, folding his arms.
Sokka grinned, pointing at their spears and crossbows. "Today's meal depends on you," he declared, laughing at their astonished expressions.
"But this is our first time hunting!" one of them protested.
"And?" Sokka replied, shrugging. "I've already taught you how to aim, how to throw a spear, and how to shoot with a crossbow. Besides, I'm here to make sure no one gets hurt. It took a lot of work to split this herd off from the main group and drive them inland, so don't waste this chance!"
The boys grumbled, but Sokka pressed on. "You've got the element of surprise, range, and—most importantly—me!" He puffed out his chest and gave a mock-heroic grin.
Enuk, one of the older boys, rolled his eyes. "Why do I feel like this is just going to end with us doing all the hard work?"
"Because you're smart," Sokka shot back, smirking. "Now listen up. Here's the plan: flank the seals from both sides. Keep low, stay hidden, and wait for my signal. When I give the word, aim for the eyes. We take down one seal each in the first volley. That'll even the odds."
He crouched low, glancing toward the herd again. The seals were relaxed, blissfully unaware of the hunters closing in.
"Remember," he said, his tone serious now, "don't get too close. If they charge, fall back immediately. I'll handle it."
The boys nodded, their nervous energy shifting into quiet focus as they moved into position. Hidden among snowdrifts and icy hills, they raised their crossbows, aiming carefully.
"Keep your breathing steady," Sokka whispered, moving among them to check their stances. "Don't rush. Take the shot when you're ready."
The seals shifted lazily, still oblivious. Sokka raised his hand, counting down.
"Three… two… one… shoot!"
The sound of strings releasing filled the air, followed by a chorus of dull thuds. Half the seals collapsed where they stood, the shots clean and precise.
The rest of the herd erupted into motion, scattering in a panic. They bolted toward the snowdrifts, but Sokka's plan was already in motion. A line of spears, buried tip-up in the ice, blocked their escape. The seals stopped abruptly, trapped between the weapons and the hunters.
"Reload!" Sokka commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Some of the boys hesitated, their hands trembling as they fumbled to reload their crossbows. Sokka's eyes narrowed. He could see the doubt creeping into their faces, the reluctance to take another life.
"Don't hesitate!" he barked, his tone sharper now. "This isn't just for you. It's for the tribe. For everyone who's counting on us. Take aim and do not falter!"
The boys gritted their teeth, steadied their hands, and fired again. This time, the remaining seals fell with a unified thud, their bodies hitting the ice in quick succession. A moment of eerie silence followed, broken only by the faint sound of the wind.
Sokka stood, surveying the scene. The seals were down, the hunt successful. Relief and pride welled up in his chest. He turned to the boys, who were a mix of exhilarated and exhausted.
Enuk, still breathing heavily, pointed at the fallen seals. "You expect us to carry those back, don't you?"
A knowing grin spread across Sokka's face. "You got it," he said, his tone almost gleeful. "Each of you, grab a sled and load up one seal. They're your responsibility now."
The boys groaned in unison, their earlier excitement draining away as they trudged toward their sleds.
As for Sokka, he glanced at the ten remaining seals and smiled to himself. There was no way he could carry them all physically—but he didn't need to. With a practiced motion, he raised his hands, forming a slick ice slide leading back toward the village. He bent the water beneath the seals, pulling them along effortlessly.
Watching the boys struggle and grumble as they dragged their sleds, Sokka couldn't help but chuckle. "You'll thank me for this someday!" he called out, earning a few half-hearted glares.
The trek back was slow but steady. As the village came into view, Sokka's chest swelled with pride. The boys had done well for their first hunt, and he'd done his part to ensure they learned the skills they'd need to survive.
At fourteen, he wasn't much older than them, but today, he felt every bit the leader his father would have wanted him to be.
Katara stood near the village center, watching as a group of boys trudged back from the tundra, led by an all-too-cheerful Sokka. She immediately knew something was up. Either her brother had orchestrated some harebrained scheme, or he'd worked those poor kids to the bone—or both.
She started walking toward them, her curiosity quickly turning into shock as her eyes fell on the haul they had brought in. Seals. More seals than she'd seen since the men had left for the war. The sheer volume left her speechless.Sokka noticed her staring, and an exaggeratedly smug grin spread across his face. "This is what wrestling with water gets you," he announced, loud enough for the entire village to hear. "Not that 'going with the flow' nonsense you're always on about."
Katara rolled her eyes at his pathetic attempt at humor. "Yeah, yeah, very funny," she shot back. "But seriously, how did your 'wrestling' manage to bring in that many seals?"
His grin widened, and he tilted his head toward the boys behind him, most of whom were slumped over in exhaustion. "Slaves," he declared gleefully. "Lots and lots of them."
Katara's eyes widened in horror as she took a closer look at the boys. They were practically dragging their feet, and their expressions ranged from pure exhaustion to mild misery. She turned back to Sokka with an accusatory glare.
He laughed and waved her off. "What? It worked! Don't hate the strategy, Katara."
The groans of the boys caught the attention of their mothers, who began gathering around to investigate. The women's reactions were a mix of emotions—indignation at their sons' soreness, pride at the impressive haul, and joy at the sheer amount of food the seals would provide.
One of the more outspoken mothers, Kaya, made her way over to the siblings. She patted Sokka firmly on the shoulder. "Looks like the tribe's aspiring soldier is finally putting in some real work!"
Sokka snorted and gestured toward the boys. "That's all them! Each one of those kids took down two seals today. I was just there for protection and to make sure nothing went wrong." He smiled smugly, clearly proud of his role as their leader.
Kaya raised an amused eyebrow. "So what you're saying is the budding soldier did nothing, and we should celebrate these boys becoming men before you?" She chortled as Sokka's expression twisted into surprise.
"Take it easy!" she added, laughing. "We all know you taught them what they know. Good job, Sokka."
He sighed in relief, grateful for the acknowledgment, as Kaya turned to the seals. "Leave the processing to us. You and the kids can rest—you've done your share."
Sokka gave a cheerful wave and was about to stroll off when Katara grabbed his arm, yanking him so hard he nearly faceplanted into the ice.
"Hey! That's not cool!" he protested, scrambling to regain his balance. "You don't get someone's attention like that!"
Katara ignored his complaints and dragged him over to the village wall. She pointed at the towering structure of packed snow and ice that surrounded the tribe. "Don't forget, as the only waterbenders here, it's our job to maintain and fortify the walls."
Sokka stared at the massive structure, scratching the back of his head. It was an impressive sight—ten meters tall, ten meters thick, and completely impenetrable. It had started as a game when they were kids, a competition to see who could build the better snow fort. Over the years, it had grown into a serious project, turning the village into a veritable fortress.
"What more do we even have to do?" Sokka asked, gesturing toward the absurdly tall watchtower he'd built on one side of the wall. The thing was triple the height of the walls and crafted entirely from ice. "I've got some upgrades I want to make to my tower, you know."
Katara gave the watchtower a look of pure disdain. "That thing takes up way too much of your time," she said flatly.
"I can't help that it's awesome," he replied with a shrug.
Katara rolled her eyes. "Listen, I've already finished my chores for the day, and you're done with yours too. It's time we focus on mastering the waterbending forms. After all, Mr. Warrior, we'll need you to actually be able to fight using waterbending if it comes to that."
Sokka groaned but didn't argue. Katara had a point—not that he'd ever admit it.
"Fine," he said, throwing up his hands. "But we've got plenty of time to master those forms. We've already surpassed what Dad expected. It'll probably be forever before we get another scroll anyway.
"His expression darkened slightly, a frown tugging at his lips. "But I don't want to just be 'skilled.' I want my waterbending to be fierce. Imagine throwing an entire mountain of snow at the Fire Nation! How cool would that be?"
Katara let out a long, exasperated sigh. He had a point about the scrolls, but the rest of his statement was just typical Sokka—his warrior instincts and wild imagination driving his thoughts instead of common sense.
"Come on," she said, shaking her head. "Let's just get to work before you start imagining yourself bending tsunamis."
Sokka grinned. "Don't tempt me!"
As the two of them moved toward their practice spot, Katara couldn't help but smile.