A/N: Don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or any of the characters, settings etc.

Hunting

His prey was in sight. Sokka clutched at his spear so hard his knuckles went white.

The wolf-rabbit lifted its white, furry head and sniffed the air. It did not sense his presence, hidden as he was behind a deep snowdrift.

His spear felt heavier than usual. Sokka clenched his teeth.

"I'm going to get you," he muttered to the rabbit. "I'm going to get you, and I'm going to enjoy it, I'm going to –"

The rabbit hopped a way away. Sokka followed it silently, stealthily. The storm the previous night had shaken up the landscape, providing plenty of cover. His boots made no sound in the snow; it wasn't the kind of snow that crunched under your feet, but the kind that fell quick and fast, soft as the inside of a fur coat. Sokka knew all the types of snow there were. He had to, being a hunter.

Sweat was dripping down his face. He wiped it away impatiently. How could he be sweating? The air was cold and crisp.

The rabbit stopped. This was the moment.

Sokka pounced. He speared the delicate creature, feeling skin and sinew and bones shift beneath the heavy weight of the sharp stone spearhead. It had never felt so good, the sinking in of the tip, the delicious pouring of raw, hot blood onto the cold white snow.

Such a contrast. Sokka gazed down at the creature. It was writhing on the ground, sending blood flying everywhere. Some spattered onto his face; he didn't bother to wipe it off. He loved it. He reveled in it. He loved to hunt, he loved to kill –

One of the rabbit's bright black eyes fixed Sokka with a terrible gaze. It knew it was going to die. It was trapped, and terrified, desperate to cling onto life, trying but failing to keep on feeling…

He had seen that look before.

Her bright blue eyes, eyes that had settled him to sleep on countless occasions, eyes that had smiled down at him when he hurt himself, were full of terror. "No – please –" And then they went cold.

Sokka lifted his spear out of the rabbit's body. The wound was terrible. It would not survive.

Blood spreading on her fur-clad chest… a line of it trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her face became slack; suddenly he realized there was a much more horrible expression than terror. Her hand twitched once, twice, and then it lay limp in the snow. More snow was falling all around; it was already burying her slender frame, and she did not attempt to shake it off…

He stabbed the rabbit; again and again, he hacked at it, mutilating its fragile form. Bloody rags of fur littered the ground. "Stop looking at me like that!" he shouted. "Stop it!"

"That's what you get, you hear? That's what you get for fighting!" The firebender stood over her body like a victor while Sokka gazed on in horror. That man wasn't a conqueror. He was a murderer. Look at her, look at his mother, lying broken on the ground, dead, cold, limp, lifeless, useless, horrible, twisted, and he could not look at her… "Murderers!" he shouted. "You're all murderers!"

Cold air bit his face. Tears sliced down his cheeks as the rabbit's eyes lost their vitality. He dropped his spear in the snow and straightened out, staring coldly down at the lifeless form beneath him. "I don't care," he muttered viciously. "I don't care, it's only a rabbit, I don't care –"

He leant down and gingerly touched the rabbit's side. It was still warm. He should go. He wanted to leave, to just forget about this mangled piece of blood and fur. He wanted to pick up his spear and march away, and just forget –

"Murderers!" he screamed one last time before picking up his spear from the ground and running away, back to the safety of his home and his family. A family that was missing one member

He couldn't leave it. Sokka bent down fully, kneeling in the damp snow, and carefully piled a mound of it on top of the rabbit's bedraggled little body. The tears were coming faster and faster now, impossible to control. He clenched his fists and screwed his eyes shut. It felt like a hand was tightening around his throat. He couldn't show weakness – he was a warrior.

"I'm sorry," he choked, as he sprinkled dusty snow over the rabbit's blank, beady eye. He recalled the way it had sniffed the air, rejoicing in the feel of life. "I am so, so sorry…"

Sokka knelt in front of the makeshift grave for hours. Damp from the ground was starting to seep through his furs.

It was time to go.

When he came back, they had removed her body. "Where is she?" Sokka asked frantically, tugging on the coats of the adults. "I want to see her, please, just once…" They wouldn't let him, and Sokka realized, with a sinking heart, that he had missed his chance.

"Sokka!" Katara ran over to him and hugged him as he staggered, hungry, into the village. "You've been gone for so long, and I thought – I thought –" She buried her face into his shoulder. "Don't go hunting again. Not now dad's gone. Don't. Please."

"I have to, sis," he explained. "I have to feed us, don't I? I'm the man of the house now." He put an arm round her shoulders as they walked back to the tent together.

"What if the soldiers come back?" whispered Katara, gazing at him with her big blue eyes, beautiful and full of life, full of feeling –

"They won't. Now quit whining." It was difficult to put on his big-brother voice.

"But what if they do?"

Sokka thought of the rabbit; thought of his mother; then looked down at his sister. His mother and the rabbit had both left, leaving their blank, staring eyes behind, and he wasn't even sure where they'd gone – but she was here. She was right in front of him, and she – of all people – still believed he could protect her.

"If they do, I'll keep you safe. How about this – I'll take you hunting."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Always?"

"Yes."

Katara grinned, relieved. "That's good. That's really good."

A/N: OK… I checked this morning and got 2 real nice reviews, which was great and actually made me physically grin. So, thanks to the people who reviewed my first fic! I'll go and review yours, soon as I've posted this one…

So, anyway, this is Sokka, a while after his mum's death. I don't like the ending – WET BLANKET ALERT! – but apart from that, it's… alright. And compared to the other things I write at about 1 in the morning, this is practically Shakespeare. Trust me.

Constructive crit is great – I'd love to get better!

Thankyou for reading. Bye :)