Ice blue eyes surveyed the land, taking in the harsh landscape and the dreary sky. Yumi had always been very practical about battle, but this one would be fierce. Her finger's unconsciously flew to the double bladed sword that she carried, cumbersome, but useful. Although the young woman had never been very tall, her 5"3 height was good enough for her, and her birds. Her short black hair, which was cropped a couple inches below the earlobes, flew in her face, the wind whipping it into a frenzy. Her square jaw had always been a bit too pronounced for good looks, but at least it didn’t break when someone hit her. She was dressed in a loose brown tunic, with matching brown leggings. Yumi had found that brown hid dirt and bird excretions better than black did.

Yumi’s impassive face turned to Kusi, her goshawk, and a rare smile graced her face. Kusi was one of many birds that Yumi trained, but of them all, Kusi was her favorite. A nostalgic look glazed her face as she remembered when they had met. It had decided her fate as a trainer.

It was 13 years ago, and Yumi was 10 again, trying to impress her father. They lived together in a little cottage near Omashu, just big enough for the two of them. Yumi’s mother had died in a rock slide, and although she had been an earth bender, it had killed her. Yumi had heard a noise in the night, and she went outside, looking for the source. When she found it, she was delighted, for it was a goshawk, her wing torn. Yumi’s father was a falconer, and Yumi had always aspired to be one. She had brought the bird home, and named it Kusi. Her father had helped her to heal her, and seeing her delight in healing the bird, he began to teach her his trade.

Yumi snapped out of her reverie, and returned back to reality. Her father had moved to the North Pole with his new wife, and left her behind. She still wrote to him, but it wasn’t the same. Now Yumi lived in the cottage, and she was the falconer. Yumi helped nearly every bird that came her way. Raptors were her specialty, for she loved the thrill of training them.

Yumi nudged the earth underneath her boot with an impassiveness that summed up her personality. Men had found her cold and unresponsive, sort of bored and unfeeling. They said they would rather bed her sword. Of course, Yumi wasn't really like that, she just didn't get surprised, and pictured herself as a calm pool. Her feelings were hers alone, and never would she share them. To do that would be showing weakness.

Yumi looked forward, trudging along with resigned steps. She would face the future, whatever it might hold.