Everything was fine until they reached the swamp.
Well, for the most part, anyway, save for stupid nomands leading them into a maze buried in the mountains and for the run in with a scary teen with blue fire and two bonafide assassins.
Other than that, everything was fine.
Or rather, it had been. They'd all been together, at least-hell, he'd had a hard time getting a moment's peace away from Aang and Katara, who seemed to split their time between practicing their bending and hovering over him. He'd assured them that he was fine, that nothing was wrong-but ever since the incident at the North Pole, they'd been odd.
Neither of them had asked about the ocean spirit since that first day he'd been awake-a fact that he was grateful for. It was ridiculous, really, to think that anyone would think that Sokka had some sort of connection to a spirit. He was Sokka, the boomerang guy, not Sokka, the "weird spirit magic" guy.
There was still, of course, the matter of his eyes. He still caught Aang staring at him from time to time. Katara was more subtle about it, but he'd gotten some odd glances from her too. Still, he chalked it up to something to do with the blood vessels in his eyes going funky when he'd drowned. He'd told Katara as much, and, while she'd seemed skeptical, she hadn't argued further.
Sokka huffed at the thought, slicing through a clump of vines frustratedly. He was soaked in swamp water and sweat-both were warm and annoying-and yet he pressed on through the swamp, hacking at vines, searching for the two benders-in the middle of the night, no less.
He'd been dragged away from where they had settled down for the night by some freaky vines, and had thus become separated from his companions. He didn't know where he was, nor which direction he'd come from-only that he was sick and tired of being lost in the swamp.
He'd much have preferred an encounter with the scary blue fire lady, to be frank.
Appa and Momo were nowhere to be found, as well-which just made this whole situation so much better. Add that to disappearing tornadoes and creepy magic vines, and that totaled up to make everything just peachy.
He was about to hack through another tangle of vines when a shudder raced through him. He stilled, and the hand with his machete fell to his side. Sokka glanced around himself, suddenly feeling very cold.
His gaze snagged on a little dot of luminescent white from beneath the surface of the murky water a few feet away. He squinted and stepped forwards slightly, trying to get a good look at whatever it was that was producing the light. It was getting larger, slowly, and Sokka realized, with a start, that it was a black and white fish swimming towards him.
He let out a startled yell, scrambling backwards. He stumbled over a tree root, and promptly fell into the water.
It closed over his head, and for a split second, Sokka was right back in the Spirit Oasis, lost for air.
And then he hit the bottom of the pond. He scrambled to his feet, vying for purchase on the muddy ground. He wrapped his arms around his chest, and began to gasp in air as if he had been drowned all over again. He stumbled backwards again, his foot catching on another tree root. This time, he fell against the trunk of a large tree. He grabbed onto the tree, trying to steady himself. His limbs were trembling; his fingers dug into the bark of the tree.
The fish stopped in its tracks, and began to swim in a lazy circle before the teen. Slowly, Sokka's breathing steadied. He hesitated momentarily, then let go of the tree, stepping back out into the swamp.
The fish seemed to take this as a cue, and began to leisurely swim away, stopping after a few feet to turn back to Sokka.
Did the fish...want him to follow it?
Hesitantly, Sokka walked up to the fish, which swam away as soon as he drew close. He began to follow it-first walking, then running as best as he could through the swamp as the fish began to speed away.
He didn't know how long he chased the fish, but by the time he was getting winded from chasing it through the muddy swamp, it suddenly...disappeared.
He froze, glancing around himself. Sokka panted, leaning on his knees. Where could it have gone?
Suddenly, something moved in Sokka's peripheral vision. He whirled around, only to see two blazing orange eyes peering out of the shadows. The figure turned away, nearly fading back into the shadows, and began to run deeper into the swamp.
Sokka gave chase, ignoring the piercing pain in his side. He raced after the figure, who leapt over a large tree root and out of Sokka's sight. With a grunt, he climbed over the enormous root, landing with a splash in the shallow pond water. He stood, wiping something slimy off of his shoulder, then turned to face the figure-and promptly recoiled with a gasp.
The figure stood in a beam of moonlight, perfectly illuminated. It appeared to be a young man, a little shorter than Sokka, dressed entirely in black. Two gargantuan black bat wings extended from his back, spanning several feet out to each side.
Sokka backed away from the winged man, until his back was pressed up against the giant tree root.
Suddenly, the man whirled around, his blazing eyes boring a hole into Sokka's skull. He was wearing a white and blue mask, one that resembled some sort of spirit.
The man turned away, tilting his head up to the sky. Without warning, his enormous wings began to flap, buffeting Sokka with the warm night air. Silently, he shot up into the sky, leaving Sokka alone in the swamp.
Tentatively, Sokka stepped forwards, peering up at the night sky through the gap in the canopy.
The man had disappeared.