A/N: Hello again everyone! Though this story hasn't gotten much traction, I still wanted to update it. This chapter was written a while ago, so I'm actually updating this at work. XD Aang has some trauma, even if he doesn't really realize it himself. Seeing the ruins of your home WILL affect you in some manner, even if you've accepted that information. And for Aang, knowing what's to come is terrifying. But keep in mind, that though he's extremely mature, he is still only twelve-ish years old. He's a kid, Avatar or not.

You'll get a peek at some of my worldbuilding and culturebuilding here. I hope you enjoy seeing what I imagine the world to have been like before Sozin flipped his top.

~~~

Sister Jinpa had known Brother Aang for a very long time. She'd been one of the nuns who had celebrated with him when he'd finally gotten his Mastery Tattoos. She really couldn't get used to seeing someone so young painted with bright blue. Normally those twice his age were still working towards the markings of an Air Master.

Being twenty-seven, she had only met him when he was roughly three or four years old, after she returned from her pilgrimage. The young boy was utterly adorable—a bundle of warm summer wind with plenty of smiles to share. It really hadn't taken her long to swiftly take the child under her wing. The rest of the Temple had followed swiftly thereafter. Aang may have been fifteen years younger than her, but he lit up the Temple halls with laughter and joy the likes of which was rarely seen these days.

Which was why she knew something was very wrong. Normally, Aang would wake up several hours into the day and then either sneak away with Master Gyatso or go play with his friends. On the rare occasions he was awake at sunrise, he would use that time to meditate or fly with his bison, Appa. Today, however, he was up earlier than even Jinpa herself, and she awoke just past daybreak.

She eyed the young boy as he sat on a tree branch, gazing out over the temple grounds with an almost forlorn look that was nothing like his usual cheerful expression. His bare feet hung off his perch as he gently stroked the back of a flying lemur.

Jinpa made sure to step on some twigs to announce her arrival, but he didn't even twitch, too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge her presence. For a moment, her eyes caught on a rather terrible looking burn scar on the bottom of one of his feet, but she couldn't remember any incident of Aang getting hurt. She decided to ignore it for now.

"Someone's in a bit of a mood."

Aang startled at the sound of her voice, grey eyes flickering towards her. For a moment, Jinpa felt a chill crawl up her back. There was something heavy and tragic in his eyes. A weight that made him feel infinitely older than the twelve years she knew him to be. Then he smiled, and the weight was masked with something akin to relief and guilt.

"Jinpa." She hated that there was some kind of shadow in his voice, just like his eyes. His smile was tinged with sorrow. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I could tell." She airbended herself to his branch, ignoring the way he stiffened in surprise, like he hadn't expected her to join him. "You seem..." heavy, sorrowful, quiet, something is wrong tell me what it is, "down." She eventually settled on. "What's bothering you?"

Aang gave a heavy sigh, not even bothering to contradict her. "I've just got a lot on my mind." He shook his head.

"Sometimes sharing one's burdens can help lighten the load?" She offered, but the boy took a shaky breath, like the advice was painful.

Aang opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again. After a moment of struggling to find what he wanted to say, he sighed. "How long until the Comet Festival?"

Jinpa frowned sharply to let him know she did not appreciate the way he'd avoided the topic, but answered his question nonetheless. "Ten days."

Aang pulled one leg up to his chest and rested his head on his knee. For a moment, she thought that he might've just been tired. But then she saw his shoulders shaking in a manner she'd seen from panicked travelers who were running away from bandits or attackers. Aang was visibly struggling to keep his breathing under control. The information was obviously a cause for great distress, though Jinpa had no idea why.

It was incredibly rare for an Airbender to lose control of their breathing, it was their literal element. One of the first things airbending children were taught was breath control. Not only was it the core of everything they did, but if a child of Air were to lose control of their breathing while bending, the results could be deadly. Especially if they were gliding.

Jinpa gently put a hand on Aang's back, rubbing calming circles into his spine to help remind him of the breathing patterns he'd learned in his early years. After a moment of following her motions, he relaxed. Not as much as she would like, but enough to at least breathe properly.

"What's wrong?" Her voice shook, but Aang didn't seem to really hear her. Seeing another Airbender this out of sorts for seemingly no reason... seeing Aang this out of sorts... it scared her more than she'd like to admit.

"Ten days..." He whispered to himself. "That's... not enough time."

"Aang." She waited until his eyes focused on her. She wove strands of wind together, pushing them through her lips like a crystalline flute. Tones conveying the emotion she could not put common words to. /I'm worried about you./

The boy's eyes moistened at the whistle-speak. In that moment Jinpa recalled the occasion where she had helped a young water tribe mother find her lost 8-year-old son, who had been swept away in a storm. The moment she'd found him—alive and relatively unharmed—she'd burst into tears and held him close.

Somehow, Aang's expression reminded her of that mother. But instead of the relief of the reunited pair, his eyes reminded her of the pain she'd carried when she spoke of a missing child. Jinpa's heart ached as she carefully pulled the young Air Nomad into her embrace.

Aang melted into her, shoulders trembling with silent sobs as his arms wrapped around her. "I'm scared." He whispered softly. "I'm afraid that they're gone forever and that it's somehow my fault."

The words made no sense to the nun. She hadn't heard of Aang fighting with any of his friends, nor did she hear of anyone leaving the temple lately. Pilgrimages weren't until the Spring, so it couldn't be that. But her confusion wasn't what Aang needed right now. What this boy needed was the reassurance that someone was there. She gently ran her hand over the back of his head, whispering softly to him. "You'll be okay. No matter what, you are not alone. The Wind is always here."

Her words made him cry harder. (Worryingly silent, she noted. Aang had always been a loud child, whether it was in joy or sorrow. When did he learn to cry so quietly? Why?) She caught the eye of a few Monks who had stumbled upon the scene. They stared with wide confused eyes—everyone knew Aang was one of the most positive and cheerful people in the Southern Air Temple. To see him in such a state was shocking and heartbreaking. Jinpa carefully shook her head to indicate they should let them be. Despite the worry on their faces, they turned and left, trusting their sister to handle the distraught child.

It took worryingly long for Aang to calm down. Children of the Air were fleeting with many things, and emotions were usually one of them. That he'd cried for long enough that Agni had moved a noticeable distance in the sky meant it was something that'd disturbed him on a deeply spiritual level.

"There." She gently wiped away his tears. "Do you feel a little better?"

"I guess." He seemed a little lighter, his smile coming a tad more easily, but that horrible weight was still there. "I'm sorry, for... y'know."

Jinpa shook her head. "Aang. I'm your Sister. I'm here for you. Air is family." She paused for a moment before the distant whistle-speak of the children reached her ear. "Why don't you go play a round or two of airball?" She gestured towards the court.

"Airball?" His voice was strangely distant, like the concept of playing one of his favorite games was foreign. Perhaps those monks had been pushing him too hard.

"Don't worry about your training today." She sent him a wink. "When we're spiritually unsound, sometimes it's best to let Vayu's wind guide us. And what better way than letting go and having some fun?" She gently nudged him off the branch, following him as they gracefully floated to the ground.

"But the Monks—"

"You let me worry about them today." She softly pushed him towards the court. "Go on. Take a day off and have some fun, little breeze."

After a moment, Aang's lips quirked into a hesitant smile. There was a glimmer of excitement in his eye that had her shoulders relaxing with relief.

"All right. Thank you, Sister Jinpa."

With that, the boy sped off, glider whipping open as he soared into the sky with more grace than she could remember. She hoped he would be okay.

~~~
Ten days to the Comet Festival

~~~

Aang tried his best to relax a little. To spend time with friends that he felt like he hadn't seen in ages—friends whose names sometimes escaped him despite the fact that they'd all known one another since infancy. He tried to allow himself to get lost to the breeze, to let his troubles fly away and enjoy the moment.

But his mind conjured the images that'd haunted him. Small skeletons laying in the ruins of the Southern Air Temple, wearing the clothes of the very people he was currently trying to play with. Sometimes the area around him would flicker, pristine buildings giving way to dilapidated ruins. He did his best to ignore the flickers. It was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him.

"Aang!" The voice whipped him out of his thoughts just in time to catch the ball that'd been about to knock him off his pole. He quickly spun around and passed the ball back towards one of his teammates, watching somewhat distantly as they leapt from one pole to the next.

He found himself growing weary, and not just mentally and spiritually. He was still hurt from his fight with Ozai. Though he didn't think there was anything major that was wrong with him, his ribs were screaming at him and his left ankle kept trying to roll out from under him. Bruises, burns and sprains, it would seem. Considering he'd been fighting the Fire Lord, he thought he came out pretty all right. Even still, he probably shouldn't be playing Airball with his injuries. He dearly missed Katara.

"You okay, Aang?" Dedan, one of his close friends and fellow chaos-makers, glided over towards him. "You seem kind of..." He paused, trying to think, before switching to whistle-speak. /I'm worried./ There were echoes of emotion there. A deep concern for Aang and his distance from the others. The other kids glanced over, adding their own concern-laced whistle-speak to the conversation.

/Worried/

/You okay?/

/You sad?/

Aang swallowed thickly. It seemed he hadn't been able to pretend as well as he'd hoped. For the first time since traveling back, he let his own whistles float through the air. A familiar phrase he'd whistled almost religiously in his year of travel. /I'm here./ The tones were sorrowful and lonely and he instantly felt bad when all the kids flinched.

They must've seen the guilt flash in his eyes because they were quick to reassure him. Dedan hopped over to his little pole and wrapped him in a hug. /I'm with you./

/Not alone/

/We're here/

Several other whistles—older whistles from monks and nuns that'd happened to hear the conversation on the wind—also floated towards them. Questions of concern, offers of guidance. /Do you need us there?/ they asked.

Aang felt something in him relax. He'd been so scared to whistle-speak. Afraid that somehow it'd shatter whatever illusion this time had become. Terrified that he wouldn't get an answer. The weight off his shoulders was nearly physical, and he blinked away a few tears of relief.

/Thank you./ His whistle was lighter now, freer. It was still deeper than he'd like, sharpened by a year of war and guilt, but it was much closer to his old self, if the smiles of his friends were anything to go by.

"Hey." Dedan bumped his shoulder gently. "Since you don't seem to wanna play Airball, how about we cause some mischief instead?"

"I think I know where a few of the older monks are meditating!" Ceba glided over, a whistle-chirp of excitement slipping through the gap between his front teeth. The thirteen-year-old boy was grinning. "Brother Kipu managed to sneak us some fruit pies to throw at them!"

Aang felt his lips quirk up into a smile. "Well, I have gotten better with my aim." He stage-whispered to the others, who giggled in excitement. Whistles filled the air as the boys raced to the ground, grabbing their gliders and soaring into the air.

The young Avatar took a moment to admire the scene before him. Of other people taking to the skies on wings of orange just like him. With a laugh of his own, he chased after them, whistle-speaking excitedly about their plans. For this moment, and this moment alone, Aang would allow himself to forget the coming war. The Fire Nation army that would arrive in less than two weeks. The friends that did not yet exist.

For this one moment, he let himself be carried away on the wind with the laughter of his friends to guide him.