ATLA: The living calamity

Please read the author's thoughts section

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Wei Zhen was jolted awake by the sound of the tent flap rustling. Blinking against the dim light of dawn, he sat up just as his father entered, a grin splitting his rugged, sun-beaten face.

"Morning, kid!" his father said, his voice warm and full of energy. "Guess who's back with treasures from the far reaches of the desert?"

Wei Zhen blinked again, his grogginess quickly replaced by a wave of relief and joy. "Dad!" he exclaimed, the corners of his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile.

His father crouched down beside him, dropping a worn leather satchel onto the ground. "You wouldn't believe the stuff we found this time," he said, practically bouncing on his heels like an excited child.

Wei Zhen chuckled softly. It was always like this. His father, with his rugged beard, dry, tanned skin, and piercing eyes, looked every bit the hardened desert survivor. But the moment he returned to camp, he acted as though he'd just come back from a grand adventure, eager to share every detail with his son.

"Let me guess," Wei said, smirking. "You found another 'ancient relic' that turns out to be a broken cup?"

"Hey, that was one time!" his father shot back, feigning offense. But his grin quickly returned as he reached into the satchel. "No, this time, we hit the jackpot. Look at this!"

He pulled out a small, intricately carved dagger, its hilt adorned with tiny, glittering stones.

"Stolen," Wei thought immediately but didn't say. He didn't need to. He knew his father wasn't the explorer he pretended to be. The truth was darker—his father was a raider, part of a group that targeted camps, especially those belonging to outsiders. It wasn't something Wei condoned, but he understood. Survival in the desert was brutal, and his father did what he thought he had to do.

Still, he played along. "Not bad," Wei said, taking the dagger and inspecting it. "Looks like it might actually be worth something this time."

"Of course it is!" his father said, puffing out his chest. "And that's not all." He reached back into the satchel, pulling out trinkets, fabrics, and even a small pouch of spices that filled the tent with a rich, earthy aroma.

As his father continued to excitedly show off his haul, Wei watched him closely. The sparkle in his father's eyes, the animated way he spoke—it was all an act. Wei knew the truth. Beneath the surface, his father was a deeply lonely man, weighed down by grief and regret.

He never talked about Wei's mother, but her absence loomed over them like a shadow. And the raids, the treasures, the stories—they were all distractions.

"Looks like you've been busy," Wei said, carefully placing the dagger back into the satchel.

His father grinned, ruffling Wei's hair. "And you? What've you been up to while I was out conquering the desert?"

"Same as always," Wei replied, leaning back on his cot. "Scheming, studying, plotting to take over the world."

His father laughed, the sound hearty and genuine. "That's my boy. Just don't take over my camp, alright?"

"No promises," Wei shot back, smirking.

For a moment, the tension in the air dissolved, replaced by the warmth of their shared banter. But as his father began packing up his treasures, Wei's thoughts drifted.

He wished he could do more for his father. He wished he could say something that would ease the burden he carried, even if only a little. But the words never came.

So instead, he just said, "Welcome back, Dad."

His father paused, looking at him with a softness that caught Wei off guard. "Thanks, kid," he said quietly. "It's good to be home."

Wei leaned back against the cot, watching as his father began sorting the items. "So, what can we actually keep this time?" Wei asked.

His father let out a soft chuckle. "Not much. You know the rules. Goula will get most of it."

Wei nodded. According to the Shaan Renkai's laws, raiders handed over their haul to the camp's treasurer, Goula. She would decide how to distribute it—most of it going into the tribe's collective storage to trade with merchant caravans. Only a small portion would be kept by the raiders as payment for their risks.

"Still, we've got some spices and fabrics. Maybe a little extra if Goula's in a good mood," his father said, shrugging.

Wei chuckled, though he knew better. Goula wasn't known for her generosity.

The Shaan Renkai wasn't like other tribes in the desert. It was vast, spread out across the sands in a network of camps, each serving a specific purpose. Their camp was more of a checkpoint—a hub where supplies were stored, sorted, and distributed to other parts of the tribe or prepared for trade with merchant caravans.

Wei Zhen and his father had never stayed in one place for long. Over the years, they had moved from camp to camp, following the orders of the main tribe. His father, being a bender, was a rare and valuable asset. Wherever they went, he was immediately assigned to raider parties, his abilities ensuring the success of countless expeditions.

But everything changed a year ago. For the first time, instead of being sent out on another raid or expedition, his father was assigned to protect this checkpoint.

It was a significant shift. In the Shaan Renkai, roles weren't given lightly. Raiders were the backbone of the tribe, but protectors—those tasked with defending critical locations like checkpoints or supply routes—were considered to hold positions of greater trust and responsibility.

To Wei, it was a sign that the main camp finally recognized his father's worth. After years of dangerous raids and tireless effort, this assignment was proof that his father had earned their respect.

It didn't change the man himself, though. His father still went on raids occasionally, claiming he "needed the thrill" or that the party required his skills. Wei knew better. Staying behind, guarding the checkpoint, left too much time for his father to think. Too much time for the loneliness to creep in.

Still, Wei couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. This camp was theirs now, at least for the time being. And with each passing day, he felt their roots sinking just a little deeper into the shifting sands of the Shaan Renkai.

For Wei, the stability was a rare gift. For his father, it was a bittersweet reward. But for both of them, it was a reminder of how far they'd come—and how much farther they still had to go.

___

Zhao Lin POV

As I looked at my boy, I couldn't help but see her in him. The sharpness in his green eyes, the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly when he was deep in thought—it was like staring at a piece of her that stayed behind. She was always so determined, so sure of herself, even when things got tough. I really miss her.

I shook the thought away and focused on the task at hand. I began packing up the satchel, my fingers working on autopilot. "Let's take this stuff to Goula for distribution," I said, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

Wei stood there for a moment, watching me with that same intensity he always had. Then, without a word, he stepped forward to help, picking up the smaller bundles. He always did that—jumped in when he had a question he couldn't quite put into words.

"What's on your mind, kid?" I asked, hoping it was something I could help with.

He hesitated, his little hands tightening on the straps of the bundle he carried. Finally, he spoke. "I don't understand the rules of earthbending."

Oh. That was... unexpected. I paused, glancing down at him as we stepped out into the harsh sunlight of the camp. His face was as neutral as ever, but I could see the gears turning in his head.

"Well," I started, adjusting the weight of the satchel on my shoulder, "you don't really need to understand any rules for bending. It's not about following a set of guidelines. Bending proficiency comes from instincts and experience. The more you practice, the more it'll just... click." I softened my tone, hoping he'd take comfort in my words. "Give it time, Wei. You're smart for your age, but that doesn't mean you need to rush things. You're only six."

He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe? Disappointment? I wasn't sure. My answer hadn't satisfied him, that much was clear. But that was alright. Wei was always searching for more, always trying to see beyond what was in front of him.

It was one of the things I admired most about him, but, spirits, it was also terrifying.

What if I held him back? What if my skills weren't enough to teach him what he needed? What if I couldn't provide the tools or guidance for him to reach his full potential?

Parenting is hard.

I glanced at him again, walking beside me with that determined little face of his. He deserved the best, and all I could do was hope I was enough.

"We'll figure it out, Wei," I said while giving a reassuring smile.

He glanced up at me, and for just a moment, there was that flicker of a smile. That was enough to push the doubts back, at least for now.