Sokka sat carving outside his tent. The sky threatened rain but at the moment he didn't care. His mind was occupied with the words Katara had spit at him, and though they were thoughtlessly used to fuel her bitterness, a part of Sokka believed there was some truth in them.
You didn't love her like I did. It made a lot of sense. How could you have loved someone when you couldn't remember what they looked like, or when you didn't know the sound of their voice, or the touch of their hands? Was it wrong for him, a boy whose mother was slain by the Fire Nation, to not want the justice that Katara craved?
Sokka shook his head. Katara didn't want justice. She wanted revenge. And he was well aware of the dangers of vengeance.
At that moment Aang walked by, and by his sullen expression Sokka knew his heart was burdened with the same heaviness. Neither wanted to see Katara go down this road. But it didn't look like they had any say in the matter. The only one she listened to was Zuko, who encouraged her to find the man responsible for her mother's death- - and make him pay with his life.
Sokka believed his sister wouldn't hesitate to kill the man. In less than a moment's decision, he could already see her ripping away the life that had no right to live, and that decision would hang over Katara's head for the rest of her days. He feared what the blood on her hands would transform her into. He also feared what she would become if the opportunity to choose was never given.
"You're still awake," said Aang.
"So're you," replied Sokka.
Aang wandered over and slumped next to him. Sokka continued his woodwork in a sort of vigil, slowly growing a pile of shavings with every etch. He could feel Aang watching him.
"She hasn't left her tent yet." Aang said after a long silence.
Sokka's knife slipped and he narrowly avoided cutting himself. "She has, actually, but only to talk to Zuko."
A sudden breeze brushed past, but Sokka realized it was just Aang, who was absent-mindedly tossing gusts of air in his hands. "I've never seen her so closed off before…" He paused, thinking. "She's going to try to find him, isn't she?"
Sokka nodded. "And with Zuko's help, I'm sure she will."
A frustrated sigh left Aang and the breeze was gone. He lifted his head to the stars, but Sokka kept his eyes on his hands.
Another chip fell to the grass. That took off more than he anticipated. Disgruntled, Sokka turned over the wooden wolf several times, trying to convince himself it didn't look so obvious in certain angles.
"Sokka… can I ask you something?" Aang sounded far away, and there was a flicker of hesitance in his tone.
Sokka turned the wolf the other way. "Hm?"
"It's about earlier… something that you said kinda stuck with me…"
Sokka was used to Aang beating around the bush. "What is it?"
Aang took in another breath and harshly released. "Why don't you feel the same way as Katara?"
"Oh." Sokka relived the conversation of earlier that day rather unwillingly. He had been asking himself the same question since, but even after hours of contemplation he was no closer to knowing for sure. There was only one answer he could think of, only one that made sense, and Aang, along with the rest of the group, already heard it from Katara.
You didn't love her like I did.
The knife slipped again, but this time it hit its mark. Sokka dropped everything and put his bleeding finger to his mouth. Aang stood up, alarmed.
"It's nothing," Sokka assured, though he wasn't sure if he was talking about the cut on his hand. Numbly he held his injured one in the other and got to his feet. "I guess until recently, I've never really thought about her."
Waves of shame swept any words of defense off his tongue. What kind of son forgot to think of his own mother? She died protecting her family, and here Sokka was, struggling to remember the slightest glimpse of her in his life. He hadn't been that young when she died. Even Katara, his younger sister, could talk about Kya for days and still not exhaust her memory.
"Sokka, that looks pretty bad." It took Sokka a moment to realize Aang was talking about his bleeding hand. "Maybe Katara could-"
"No," said Sokka. He was quite determined not to face his sister right now, and he was sure she felt the same about him. "It's not as bad as it looks. I'll be fine."
Aang said nothing, and Sokka strongly suspected he was hoping his cut would serve as a healthy distraction for Katara. A small part of him agreed, and he may have gone along with it if his thoughts weren't so preoccupied. Shame prickled at his face and his throat and Sokka trudged to his tent, wanting nothing more than to be alone.