Azula: Prologue

Instructions

Prologue (The year of 2000) A winged beast gazed silently through the window of a large white building. She knew nobody would see her; the white-cloaked men were too busy speaking in quick, low, whispers. Often, they would glance at an incubator that a small child was propped up in. The beast watched the child curiously, wondering, Could this be the one? She knew there was little hope for the young girl, but if she survived, then maybe? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of slow, gentle wingbeats. “Princess Fantail,” the approaching dragon murmured respectfully, sinking into a bow as she landed. “Oh don’t bother Azula,” Princess Fantail said softly, “I don’t like having a title, just call me Fantail.” The truth was, Fantail didn’t even like being a princess; the way the other dragons acted like she was superior to them unnerved her. “What are you doing here?” Azula asked, hesitation in her voice, “aren’t you supposed to be at the training camp?” “Well, I was getting fed up with having to watch training instead of participating for a change!” She spat out the last words in a rather undignified way, but she didn’t care. “So,” she continued, “I came to the Noscales Medicine Place. I figured that I would check to see if there were any new hatchlings. The prophecy is bound to be fulfilled soon; it’s been three years since it was prophesied.” Azula nodded, “Being royalty isn’t all good, is it?” she asked with a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks…” She murmured, a slight awkwardness to her voice. A sudden wail broke her away from her thoughts. She pricked her ears, ducking so the Noscales wouldn’t see her. She poked her eyes out, wondering what the noscales’ indistinct chatter meant. “Azula, do you know what it means?” she asked; Azula was the only dragon in the tribe that could understand and speak noscales talk. “I think,” Azula responded with a slight pause, “they are saying, ‘She is going to live.” Fantail smiled, “So that means…” “Moriah will survive,” Azula murmured. Fantail blinked, “Moriah? What do you mean?” “Her name,” Azula said, glancing at a paper stuck to the incubator, “Moriah Stone.” Fantail had a strange feeling when she looked at Moriah. She knew that she was the one who would save the tribe. “Welcome, Moriah Stone,” she murmured too quietly for Azula to hear, “Our tribe will be saved at last.”