I own nothing
Katara cut through the forest, Aang a Toph just behind her. They had left Appa and Momo at the camp.
"Slow down, Katara!" Aang protested. "We don't even know where we're going!"
Katara wouldn't slow down, though. If anything, she went faster. "Why're you going so fast?" Toph asked.
Katara spun around, "I'm going this fast because my only brother is a hostage of the Fire Nation and might be tortured or hurt or...or some other horrible thing!" Tears came out of her eyes, unbidden.
Aang patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "We'll find him, Katara. I won't give up. Even if we have to fight everybody we'll get him back." He and Toph stood stiffly as Katara gathered herself.
"Let's keep going," Aang said, choosing not to address the subject.
When they found no camp along the along the path, the group strayed off it. The underbrush scratched their skin and pulled at Toph's loose hair. Not far off the path, though it was really the heart of the forest, they found the camp.
It was lucky that Toph was with them, because she felt the vibrations first and without her, they would have walked right into the group. Instead, Toph flung out an arm, stopping Aang mid-step. "There right up there," she said, pointing, her blank eyes looking at Aang. "At least ten of them. Maybe more."
Aang nodded, putting his staff in front of him. Katara uncorked her water. Toph did nothing. The three of them walked straight into the camp.
Everyone was facing the other way. The three had time to take inventory, not letting their presence be known.
There were seven Fire Nation soldiers, all gathered around in a ring. Prince Zuko was in the middle. Iroh was off to the side, shaking his head as if he didn't approve of the sport. Jet and his two cronies were outside the circle, apparently not doing anything.
It was the sight of Sokka that took all the air out of Katara's lungs. His shirt was gone, revealing burned skin that covered his stomach and ribs. When he turned slightly, Katara caught a glimpse of what could have been lash marks, like from a whip.
Bruises covered Sokka's face. A long gash went from his temple to his chin. He bore a faint brown scar for the rest of his days.
Somebody had sensed the trio, and later, none of them remembered which Fire Nation soldier turned first. They didn't remember who threw the first ball of flame. All they remembered was that as soon as he did, all hell broke loose.
So...review. Merry Christmas! Happy Festivus!