Sokka trudged miserably through the dark woods. He couldn't sleep. It was frustrating, certainly – to the point that Sokka almost took offense at himself. He NEVER had trouble sleeping. Ever. He was Sokka: the boomerang-throwing, meat-loving, sarcasm-slinging, plan-hatching, can-fall-asleep-anywhere guy. It's what he was known for. In fact, he wagered to himself, I bet I could fall asleep right here in the trees, if I wanted to.
He did want to. He had been wrestling with that fact all night. Normally, wiping his mind clear of the day's troubles was no issue but lately… He stopped walking, and thrust the heel of his hand repeatedly against his forehead. Quit it, stupid! You'll never get to sleep that way. He dragged his fingers forward against his hair and down his face, pulling a few brown strands free of his wolf's tail and leaving many more looping up comically from his half-shaved scalp. Sighing, he freed the rest of his hair from the cord that bound it.
He wove the blue string idly between his fingers, taking in his surroundings. To his tired eyes and frazzled brain, the forest seemed devoid of anything but the normal, forest-y sights and sounds. Placing the hair tie in his pocket, he pushed forward along the rough, overgrown trail. The path had begun with a steady but manageable incline, following a more-or-less straight trajectory to the northwest. Now it gave way to jagged switchbacks, so steep in places that Sokka felt it was more like climbing a ladder than a hillside. A worry crossed his mind about getting back down in the dark, but he dismissed it. He would just keep climbing till morning, then hike back by daylight. He could take a nap somewhere, if he needed to. He mentally constructed the schematics for a hammock made out of woven vines, and it seemed to him altogether doable. Although, with how thickly the trees grew here, he probably wouldn't have enough open space to hang it. Maybe he could make a sort of nest instead, using soft pine boughs and some moss…
His arms and legs moved with monotonous repetition, leaving his mind free to wander. As one foot lifted up, the opposite hand reached to grab the nearest branch or rock. Left-right, right-left. Step-pull, step-pull. Suddenly, there wasn't a handhold when he reached for one, and his foot circled swiftly to the ground with a jarring thud. The trail had leveled off abruptly, and ended in a small thicket of trees. He took a step, and a glint of white appeared ahead and slightly to his left. He froze where he stood, adrenaline waking his senses. The white blur didn't move. Slowly, silently, he shifted his weight leftward, craning his neck to get a better view. Unfortunately, each new sliver of fuzzy moonlight between the tree trunks was no better than the last. He ventured a step forward, then another. He saw the edge of the white blob flutter and blink out. Something dark had passed in front of it. Sokka reached slowly for his boomerang, edging his cheek around the last tree between himself and a clear view of… a spirit?! Sokka almost gasped out loud and ducked back behind the tree. He had only gotten a quick glance. Had its head turned his way? All he'd managed to take in was a pale, glowing arm extending from beneath white robes, and a swath of long, black hair darker than the night sky itself. Maybe it's friendly, he suggested to himself. Heck, maybe it knows Aang. He doubted he could sneak away now, or that his boomerang would do any damage even if he managed to get a clear shot. Might as well face the thing and get it over with. He took a deep breath.
"You can come out, Sokka, I know it's you bumbling around out there."
"Toph?" He sheathed his boomerang, silently cursing the fact that at the age of nineteen-and-three-quarters his voice still occasionally cracked. He quickly cleared his throat and strode out with mock confidence from the thicket. "I wasn't bumbling, I was just – hey, what're you doing all the way up here at this time of night?"
"I could ask the same of you." Toph stared with unseeing eyes at the landscape that rolled out before her. She was standing on a knee-high slab of rock, her head slightly higher than his own. Although the starlight was brighter here than in the thicket, it was unclear as to whether Toph had found her perch or bent it into existence. Sokka opened his mouth once, frowned, then decided to go with the truth.
"I couldn't sleep… a lot on my mind, I guess."
He had told the truth, but didn't offer any details. A moment passed before Toph answered, "Yeah… me too."
Toph didn't offer details, either. Sokka stared out at the hills, which seemed to undulate in the alternating moon-shine and cloud-shadow. The moon was waning gibbous, three days past full. Thin gray clouds scudded across its face, and the wind that bore them carried a sweetness halfway between plum and apple – autumn was just around the corner. Sokka felt an emptiness as he gazed at the silver disc hanging above them. The moon always brought thoughts of Yue. During the first few months after her death, it seemed to pull at him as strongly as the tides. Even as the months turned to years, she had sometimes seemed so present in that disc that he ached with the weight of the distance between them. But tonight, the moon was just the moon. Her spirit was off somewhere else. Or am I beginning to forget?
He closed his eyes, trying to picture her face. He'd had so little time to learn it, but was that really any excuse? He switched to his mother's. It slid and shifted and resisted him. When he tried to think of Katara, Aang popped up unbidden. He seemed to be able to recall every feature of Suki's except her face. He opened his eyes, exasperated. The moon hung unchanged before him. Sokka quietly drew a breath, unclenched his fists, and exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes. Okay, brain. You just looked at Toph a minute ago. This should be easy. And… go!
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then he heard her laugh. He felt her rough knuckles against his shoulder. He saw her dusty feet, the mound of black hair behind her headband, and finally, he saw her face. Pale green eyes behind a dark fringe of hair. A rounded nose and short, pointed chin, perfectly framing a small mouth that turned up ever-so-slightly at one corner. As he pictured it, Sokka caught himself copying Toph's mischievous, signature smirk. He turned his head, and tentatively opened one eye.
Toph was there. Her hair hung loose down her back, and she was frowning slightly, but she looked otherwise as he'd recalled. With pride and relief he checked off a list of things he'd remembered correctly: the way she stood with her shoulders down and feet parallel, heels and toes rooted solidly to the earth. The way her bottom lip protruded slightly when she tucked her chin toward her chest. Sokka knew that when she took on her "ears first" stance, she was hearing and feeling things through the earth that he could never perceive.
The sleep clothes she wore reminded Sokka of the night they had "rescued" her and Aang from Earth Rumble Arena: wide, calf-length pants and a short robe with fluttering sleeves. Three simple frogs of pale gray cording were the robe's only decoration. The bottom frog had come undone, revealing a hint of milky skin with each puff of wind. Sokka held out his own arm for comparison. Toph's complexion almost seemed brighter in the moonlight. His just looked ashy and gray. He tilted his wrist awkwardly this way and that, trying in vain to catch the light. He leaned towards Toph, half-wondering if her skin would illuminate his own.
"Sokka, what are you doing?"
"What? Nothing!" Sokka's hands snapped to his sides. He knew he should leave it at that, but words were already spilling from his mouth like water from a sieve. They couldn't be stopped. "It's just that you – I mean, your skin is already pale, but the moonlight makes it different somehow, kind of glowy, I guess? And, um, mine's not."
"Okay…"
He cringed and desperately launched into a different topic. "You know, when I first saw you out here I thought you were a spirit." He forced a laugh. It sounded forced. "Pretty stupid, right?"
"Yeah, that is pretty stupid." Toph agreed flatly.
"Sorry… I guess I'm more tired than I thought." Sokka pressed his fingers against the beginnings of a headache. He risked a glance back at Toph, but her expression was blank. In fact, she hadn't moved an inch since he arrived. "You look different with your hair down." He blurted. Something flickered briefly across Toph's face. She gathered her hair with a practiced sweep, twisting and pushing it into a rough version of its normal shape. "I didn't mean it looks bad!" Sokka protested.
"I should put it up anyway," she reasoned. "It's getting windy, and I'll get an earful if my hair gets tangled before the banquet tomorrow."
"Since when are you scared of Katara?" Sokka teased. "Although, she did spend half an hour washing it… and over an hour combing it… Yeah, I'd be scared, too."
"My scalp is still tingling. I don't know why she's taken such a sudden interest in my appearance. She never cared before. We've been to dozens of these things since Sozin's Comet." Toph held her hair with one hand while the other fished in the pocket of her robe.
"You know how she is," Sokka replied. "The nagging is her way of letting you know she cares." Toph scowled. She switched hands and reached into her other pocket. Sokka hesitated, then continued. "She was probably just trying to cheer you up. You've seemed down lately."
A frustrated growl escaped the earthbender's throat, her hair falling back down in a rippling curtain of black silk. A tiny tremor shot out from where Toph's heel met the cold, hard stone. Her hands had become fists at her sides.
"Toph? What's wrong?" Sokka reached out tentatively towards her shoulder. She evaded, hopping nimbly down from the rock and taking a seat on its edge.
"I'm fine. I thought put Katara's ribbon in my pocket earlier. I guess I misplaced it. "
Sokka frowned. Toph usually had an acute awareness of her surroundings, and kept especially close tabs on her own possessions. It wasn't like her to lose something. He wished she would say what was really on her mind. Suddenly, he remembered the string in his own pocket. "Oh, hey! Here, take mine."
Toph waved away his hand and its offering of hair-wrangling material. "Let the wind do what it will. I could care less, and Katara will get over it."
"I'm not so sure she will," Sokka chuckled, kneeling down on the rock beside her. Toph slumped over, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on one hand. She defiantly blew a puff of air up at her bangs. Sokka found something comforting in her stubbornness. The same old Toph was still in there. He slid behind her, sitting cross-legged on the smooth, flat stone. "You can huff and grumble all you want, but I'm not going to risk taking a beating from my little sister on the off-chance she finds out I let you ruin her handiwork. Sit up straight, would you? And here, hold this."
Sokka pulled Toph's hand out from under her chin and deposited the blue cord into it. Without warning, he began gathering her hair into a low ponytail. Goosebumps prickled on Toph's arms and legs as his fingers combed gently across her scalp, catching her long bangs and drawing them behind her ears. A half-formed retort dissolved on her tongue as his fingers lightly brushed the nape of her neck. Her cheeks burned angrily. She balled up the cord in her fist and put her chin back down on her knuckles. She may have been temporarily disarmed, but was determined to not sit up straight. It was a small defiance, but she clung to it. "You'll just make it worse," she protested half-heartedly.
"I may not be as adept as Katara in matters of hair-dressing, but I can manage a simple braid. I made that cord there, didn't I?"
He had, in fact, and he had narrated the whole process. He had explained in detail how to measure the length of the threads, and the importance of coating them with wax to help keep water out, and to keep the finished cord from sliding out of one's hair. He had recited (in a ridiculous, sing-song voice) the weaving pattern his gran-gran had taught him. And Toph had listened while pretending be completely uninterested.
"I used to watch them, in the mornings." Sokka mused as he divided Toph's black mane into sections.
"Who?"
"My mom, Katara, and Gran-Gran. Katara would sit on the floor and braid her doll's hair, and my mom would sit behind her and braid Katara's hair, and Gran-Gran would sit on the little stool and braid Mom's hair. Dad used to tease them. He'd say, 'If you sat in a circle, little Ila could braid Gran-Gran's hair!' Katara would pretend to get mad, but she'd laugh every time." He paused to shake out a tangle. Toph sat up a little straighter – but only a little. She dropped her hands to her lap, and unwound the knot she had made of Sokka's string.
"The morning after Mom died, Katara wouldn't let Gran-Gran do her braid. For weeks, she wouldn't let anyone touch her hair. I found her doll lying in the snow one day – all the hair had been pulled out. For some reason, I just couldn't bear to see it like that. I got some yarn from under Gran-Gran's bed and made a wig for Ila. I slaved over it the whole day. When it was done, that doll looked terrible. I mean really bad. Frighteningly ugly. I was afraid to show it to Katara, but I did. And you know what? She laughed. She made fun of me for the poor job I had done, and then she helped me fix it. She taught me how to braid properly, and she started learning to do more of the chores Mom had done from Gran-Gran. Little by little, things started to started to be okay again."
Sokka tapped Toph's shoulder, and she passed him the cord. He wrapped it around the end of her braid and tucked in the ends securely. He instinctively leaned forward, then caught himself and diverted his momentum into awkwardly rising to a kneel. His mother had always kissed the top of Katara's head when her hair was done. He scooted off the rock, nervously clearing his throat. "Well, all done," he announced.
"Yeah, I gathered that." Toph slouched on the edge of the rock-bench, idly picking at her fingernails. Sokka watched her, disheartened. After some time, he realized he had been staring. Toph either didn't notice, or (more likely) didn't care. Sokka looked out again at the moon, but couldn't seem to keep his eyes open to its piercing, silver-white light. His headache returned with a vengeance. His whole body felt heavy. The stars crowded in around him, their ancient voices buzzing sleepily in his ears. His feet grew numb, giving him the sensation of floating. Floating away, on an ocean of stars…
"Sokka."
He was suddenly back on earth again. The stars had returned to their places. He felt solid ground beneath his feet, and a hand firmly gripping his arm. He looked down at Toph, then swung his gaze to the empty rock bench. "How did you…?" He mumbled drowsily.
"You were falling asleep standing up. Do you think I would just sit by and let you fall and hit your head or something?"
"Maybe, if you though I deserved it."
Toph smirked. Sokka's eyes were closed again, and he was starting to slump forward. He was still half asleep. "Well, I don't. At least not this time. Come on, let's get you back." She turned and started walking past the rock, pulling Sokka along by the wrist. Getting him moving would wake him up. After a few steps she felt him pulling back. Toph let go and turned around.
"Toph, wait. Isn't it back… over…" Sokka left his query unfinished, one arm waving vaguely towards the thicket and the steep slope he had earlier climbed. For the first time that evening Toph faced him squarely, chin up, her blind eyes meeting his own with eerie precision. It was a little strange to see her face unbarred by hair. Sokka shook off his surprise and tried again. "Uh, sorry. I mean–"
"You can fight your way back down through tree roots and bushes if you want," she interrupted. "Personally, I'd rather take the stairs."
He gawked at her blankly, trying to decide if by 'stairs' she meant, 'use earthbending and make Sokka look like an idiot.' Toph sighed. Grabbing his wrist once more, she pulled him to the far edge of the ridge. She pointed between two unassuming boulders. He looked down. Steps. There were steps. Wide, sturdy-looking steps leading down to a path that followed the creek, presumably all the way back to the estate.
"Did you…?" He began.
"Nope. These were made by hand, not by earthbending. Really old, too, from the feel of it."
"You mean I…?"
"Yep. 'Fraid so."
Sokka's palm met his forehead with a loud smack. He pressed his fingers over his eyes. It just wasn't his night.
"Are you coming or what?" Toph called over her shoulder. She was already half a dozen steps down. Sokka put his hands in his pockets. He turned away, looking back at the empty bench.
"You go ahead. I'm going to stay here a while longer." He heard Toph's footsteps slow, then stop.
"Suit yourself. Just lie down or something before you fall asleep again, okay?"
"Heh," Sokka laughed without smiling, "yeah, okay." He waited until her footsteps faded away completely, then trudged over to the rock bench. He sat down on the ground in front of it, leaning his back against the cool stone. His eyes watered as a yawn pushed against his throat. Remembering his promise, he stretched out on his back. The stars playfully winked their eyes at him. He blinked back once, twice, then fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.