Worth It: Hakoda

Summary: Hakoda takes Sokka hunting for the first time.

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Sokka was ready in a heartbeat. Despite his history of deep sleep, the six year-old leapt from the top of the bunk beds he shared with his sister almost as soon as Hakoda had crept in the room. The excitement was clear in Sokka's wide blue eyes, but he moved with controlled determination and stealth uncommon in one so young, making not a sound as he donned his woolen undercoat. They had discussed it in confidence last night; they would have to be very quiet if they did not want to invoke his mother's wrath. Hakoda was certain they would return that evening to not one, but two very angry females, but he had a feeling it would be worth it.

"You ready?" he whispered as he knelt to help Sokka with his boots. Sokka's eyes were still so full of adoration and excitement when he put on his best approximation of a tough face and nodded.

"Let's do this."

Yeah… it was worth it.

Father and son crept their way on hands and knees through the narrow ice hallway, past Karana's room and into the den, where they hastily grabbed their coats and spears (well, Hakoda's spear and the stick Sokka had sharpened in its likeness). Hakoda was so proud of his little boy, suited up and ready to go on his first hunting trip. He placed a fond hand on Sokka's shoulder. The pair shared a meaningful glance and climbed out into the biting cold of the very early morning.

The two of them walked on silent feet through the village, giving the village's resident polar dog a wide berth and taking special care not to wake anyone. Though the men of the village, home for a much needed break after weeks at sea, were no doubt to be trusted, anybody else might warn his wife and end this little outing before it began.

Once they had safely reached the docks, however, they could afford to loosen up a bit. Hakoda led Sokka to a little two-man wooden canoe that he had loaded up for their journey just before fetching his partner. Hakoda usually went on these fishing trips alone, and had always wanted to bring Sokka along. He was becoming more and more aware, however, that each trip out to fight the Fire Nation might be his last, and he didn't want to lose this opportunity. He had tried to convince Karana, explaining at length how very careful he would be with her precious son, but in the end, he had to resort to subterfuge. She'd forgive him… He hoped.

All such worries evaporated, however, when Sokka climbed deftly into the boat and sat behind his father.

"Still ready?" Hakoda asked, steadying the boat with a firm hand on the rope. Sokka nodded anxiously, barely able to keep still.

"Got your spear?"

"Yup."

"Got your rope?"

"Yup" Sokka replied after a brief search.

"You know, nobody's judging you. I won't be disappointed if you want to go back to bed."

"Da-ad!" Sokka whined.

"Ok, ok" Hakoda said, chuckling and releasing the rope. The two remained still allowed the steady ocean current to pull the boat away from the village. Everything was dark, but the moonlight revealed the barest of outlines of their home's small, domed buildings and the forests of ice in all directions. The village slid away from them.

After a moment, Hakoda reached down into the boat and pulled out his paddle. He inserted it into the water with practiced ease and drew it back with long, measured strokes, alternating sides. Behind him he heard Sokka attempting to imitate him. The boy's rhythm was poor and the paddle was clearly too long for him, but Hakoda's heart swelled with pride all the same.

The two of them talked very little as they guided the boat further and further from their village. The sun would not be rising for at least another hour, and they had to reach their destination before then to set up.

"Today we're hunting bull-oarfish, Sokka" Hakoda said to break the silence.

"Bull oarfish" Sokka repeated to himself.

"The key when hunting bull-oarfish is to be patient. They can be very difficult to hit from a distance. If you go off half-cocked and throw your spear too soon, you'll misjudge and miss them, and then you've lost your chance." Sokka nodded emphatically as he considered his father's wisdom. "And with monsters like you in the village, you know what can happen if we come home without any meat." They shared a laugh.

"You must also be brave, Sokka," Hakoda began again. "Bull-oarfish are powerful and can easily drown a man, but if you do not have the heart to meet them face to face, you have no business hunting them."

"I'm brave enough, Dad."

"I'm sure you are" Hakoda replied, chuckling. "I'm sure you are."

They reached the Ice Fields without any great difficulty, and Hakoda hitched the side of their boat to one of the larger floes, securing it in place. The first pink glow of sunrise was just visible on the horizon.

"When the sun first rises, the bull-oarfish will come up in this area to breath and warm themselves in the light. We need to be ready for them." They spent the next twenty minutes or so in the steadily-increasing light learning how to prepare their harpoons. Each harpoon had to be fastened to the boat's bow in a precise way so the knots did not unbalance the spear in flight. Hakoda had seen hunts fail before on virtue of knots alone. Sokka was a quick study, though, and what he lacked in strength he made up for in enthusiasm. Hakoda had to tighten the knots up for him in the end, but by the time the sun had peeked fully over the ice, Sokka had practically mastered it. The little boy just beamed with happiness and accomplishment. They waited.

It was Sokka who heard the telltale sucking noise of a great fish gulping air first. He whispered as much to his dad, who released the boat from its position on the ice with his booted foot. Hakoda manipulated the paddle with precision and stealth born of a master sailor, holding a hand back to keep Sokka quiet.

Hakoda brought the boat gliding deftly through the water, meandering past obstacles in search for the source of the sound. Eventually, he caught the green glint of the fish's great, scaly tail undulating beneath the water, not three boat-lengths away. He brought the boat around to get a better view and point the beast out to his son. Sokka's eyes widened in fear and amazement. The bull-oarfish was at least twelve feet long, no doubt hundreds of pounds, and made of solid muscle. It pulsed lazily just beneath the surface of the water, occasionally swallowing a tremendous mouthful of air.

"Alright, Sokka. Don't be scared. Remember? A hunter must respect his prey, must show no fear. We must face him." Sokka looked dubious, but nodded all the same.

"'Atta boy. Now, I'm going to need you to hold the boat steady while I try to hit him. Be absolutely still, if you can, but if it feel's like the boat is going to fall, shift the paddle until we balance out again." Sokka nodded his assent.

"Alright. We can do this. Water Tribe, right?"

"Right," Sokka squeaked.

After helping Sokka to position his paddle without making noise, Hakoda stood. The boat wobbled a bit, then a bit more as Sokka tried to hold it steady, but the boy quickly got the hang of it and held it still. The fish was oblivious. Hakoda held one of the roped harpoons they had prepared aloft, aimed for a moment, and then let loose with all his might.

There was a mighty splash of water as the harpoon hit its mark. The fish, in all its magnificent glory, thrashed in agony for a moment, sending the boat skidding around it in a wide arc. Hakoda nearly fell out as the fish began swimming away at breakneck speed, dragging the boat and its hapless passengers along with it. They accelerated faster and faster, skidding atop the water as if in a motorboat, and Sokka whooped with laughter. A particularly powerful jolt yanked the paddle from his hands and nearly capsized the vessel, but Sokka chortled on, unconcerned. Hakoda found himself unable to resist joining in.

Until, that is, he turned and saw that the fish was heading for a massive iceberg, and therefore about to descend. In a flash of panic-induced might, Hakoda wrapped a strong arm around his son and jumped out of their boat just before it was sucked into the blue depths. He nearly tipped over the ice floe on which they had landed, but managed to regain his balance and leap to another, larger one in time.

The two of them looked at the spot where their boat had disappeared in silence, watching the more buoyant of their gear float to the surface.

"Wow," Sokka finally said, clearly impressed. Most of the gear would not be recoverable, but they fished out what they could reach, including Sokka's little wooden spear and, more importantly, Hakoda's paddle. Sokka sat down on the ice, exhausted.

"What are you doing, Sokka? We're not done here" Hakoda reminded him.

"Dad?" he asked.

"Let's go," Hakoda replied as he hopped to the next ice floe. Sokka's face lit up in another thrilled grin as he followed his dad from floe to floe, making their way across the ice fields as naturally as if they were solid ground.

It didn't take much walking to find the fish again. It was a mighty creature, but it had been injured and would not be able to hold the boat underwater for long. Indeed, they quickly spotted their boat tangled atop a spire of ice some hundreds of feet away, the fish thrashing ineffectually in a shallow pool nearby.

Normally, Hakoda would have simply sat himself on the ice and waited for the fish to perish of its own accord. Without a weapon, it was simply too dangerous to approach even a dying bull-oarfish. But Sokka had other plans. As soon as they reached the gargantuan creature's heaving sides, the boy rushed forward.

"Sokka, no!" Hakoda shouted, realizing all too late what was happening.

"Show no fear!" Sokka echoed as he plunged his stick into the great fish's head. A fountain of blood escaped the wound and the fish flailed about in agony. Hakoda looked on in disbelief as its massive tail struck Sokka in the stomach and sent the boy hurtling into the water.

No sooner had Sokka impacted the freezing ocean than had Hakoda leapt in after him. The cold was excruciating, but he ignored it. The only thing on his mind was saving his son at all costs. It didn't take him long to pull the unmoving boy out onto the ice, but Hakoda feared it was already too late.

Hakoda took no notice of the dying fish as he cradled his dripping son in his arms, pounding him on the back to extricate the water he had swallowed. For a terrifying minute or so, Sokka was unresponsive, but eventually he coughed and sputtered, returning to life almost as suddenly as he had lost it. Hakoda wept openly as he held his boy in a crushing hug.

"I'm ok, Dad. Water tribe" he declared. Hakoda wiped his eyes.

"Of course, Son. Water tribe."

Hakoda and Sokka made a fire from whatever salvaged gear they could still part with and sat by its warmth for most of the day, eating roasted strips of their mammoth catch while they waited for their clothes to dry out. It was of paramount importance when surviving in the cold extremes of the world to get warm before you worried about anything else. They would go home only when they were completely dry.

"We dry yet?" Hakoda would ask every once in a while. Sokka would look to the meal he was sharing with his dad and no one else, place an obligatory hand on his jacket to test its dampness (even well after it had completely dried).

"Nope" he would report, grinning mischievously.

"Yeah, me neither" Hakoda would lie, thinking about the inevitable firestorm when they returned home.

Eventually, however, they could delay no longer. They hitched the fish's immense carcass to the back of their boat with a section of rope, climbed in, and started the journey back. With only one paddle and an extra several hundred pounds for the return trip, it was hard work, and by the time they got home Hakoda's arms felt quite ready to drop off. And, as expected, Karana and Katara were not at all happy with them for sneaking off as they did. And apparently Hakoda would be sleeping in the den for the rest of his life, but seeing the look on Sokka's face as he regaled his jealous sister with tales of their adventures, Hakoda was certain.

It was all worth it.