"In time we hate that which we often fear."
The Fire Nation began the raids on my tribe seven years ago. They attacked what was once our great city, the home of every man, woman, and child of the Southern Water Tribe. I was only a child of eight years old at the time. They took my father. He was a waterbender and they stole each and every one with every raid. He was one of the first to go.
My mother was killed in the last raid two years ago, when they took the last known waterbender from our tribe, Hama. Some hope that those there were taken are still alive, but I hope they are dead. It would be better to be dead than to go through whatever hell the Fire Nation would put them through.
I would rather be dead then taken by them.
I don't remember my father much anymore, except for a tall man who would toss me in the air or hug me with strong arms. I remember my mother's change after he was gone, the slow dying within at every passing year. My mother died for no other reason than a soldier blasting fire as she ran from our home while they melted it to the ground. She had fallen with only half a face and a scream that will always echo in my ears.
I hate them.
The enemy. These demon soldiers who attack and kill us for no apparent reason. What had we done to them? The question that has tormented me since the raids began. Since they took my father. Since they took my mother. Is Why?
There is no why. The Fire Nation is evil, a hideous people who only feel hatred and the gluttony of war.
I hate them! I hate them!
After our city was attacked, many left to settle across the Southern Pole in the hope that they could hide away from the Fire Nation. Some, the few brave and foolish, chose to stay in what remained of our city. My mother had chosen to stay there, in the futile hope that one day her husband would return to her. In a hope that one day any of them would come back…in order to train me.
I am the last that I know of. There may be others hidden away with those who have fled across the pole. There may be others who have been born in the past seven years. I had only started with beginning stances and basic bending forms when the raids started. My bending is weak. Pathetic because I am untrained. How could I hope to defend myself if they come for me?
I will try.
I have to.
They won't take me alive if it comes to it.
I won't suffer the same fate as my father and the others.