Sokka jumped a bit at the loud call. Sure, he had grown up quite a bit in the last few months, but his red coat still shown and his lanky form still was, well, that. He seemed to doubt he would fill out much at all. His mother had always been skinny, wherever she was. Then Tarrant called out and Sokka relaxed, his hunches uncurling. He offered Tarrant a smile.

“Eye-ya, Tarran’,” Sokka said. Then Tarrant asked how he was doing, Sokka’s head dropped a little. “Ell… Ah kinda wan’ed ta talk wid ya.” His mother had always told him to be diplomatic. She’d always told him to be a gentleman. But also told him that the only way to do anything was honestly. He shuffled a bit. Glanced up at the sun above the canopy.

“Mah Ma said dat when a colt grows up, he’s godda go ow on ‘is own,” Sokka began. “An’ I’m a yearlin’ now…” He was stumbling over his words still. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. “Ah… Ah dunno. Ah kinda always dot dat ma ‘er pa would come back bah now… buh…” They hadn’t. He didn’t even know where to go looking for them.

SOKKA