He gathered his cold hands in front of his face, trying to warm them with his breath. The fire was too small for Sokkas taste, barely bright enough to see Gran-Gran and Mom tell Katara old waterbender stories on the other side of the room.īut with their resources dwindling, the young boy knew that this small flame had to be enough. He always felt weak and tired during the polar night. Not that he was that angry about being left out. His father was out hunting with the other men to fill their dwindling winter supplies, the harsh cold keeping Sokka inside the house. Sokka often wishes it always stayed the same. It was a simpler time, no conflict, and no dangerous secrets. Seeing the deep blue armguards of hardened leather in use always fills him with happiness, and he can see that his sister likes them too, even if she doesn't admit it. Many of the other men in the village seem to find that weird, but Sokka couldn't find anything wrong with it.ĭuring his time with the women around the campfires, he has seen enough for him to know that even an old lady can be as fierce as any battle hardened warrior.Įven if he never managed to convince Katara to use a weapon in addition to her bending, he did manage to persuade her to wear some of the young warrior’s self crafted armor. Sometimes he managed to convince his sister to train with him. He knew he was a warrior (soon at least) and he should be proud of that, but he would never have a link to his craft like Katara. Watching her like that, Sokka felt some kind of longing from deep within his body. The water dancing through the air like snowflakes in the mild spring winds. He always watched her when she trained her bending. And if he was honest with himself, he was jealous of that. Throwing around blocks of ice was normal business for her after all. Why would he? He may be a bit weird, but Katara was even weirder.
He has always been an early riser, the exact opposite to his sister, who seems to live more under the moon than under the sun. Sokka felt at ease around the gently flickering flame, basking the room in a gentle, orange light, not unlike the sunrise he watches every morning. It caused him to spend far more time working around the fire within the village walls, and even if the older boys made fun of him because that would be ‘woman work’, the chief's son couldn't help but enjoy his time in the heat. He always had more problems with the cold than the others, getting ill often and trying to avoid the harsh winds at all cost. Sokka always felt like he was different from the other children in the village, and not only because all the other boys were at least 3 years older than him. Finished Fics that I love, fics i read instead of seeking therapy Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 295918 Chapters: 72/72 Comments: 1000 Kudos: 2349 Bookmarks: 421 Hits: 80444