Yes, Sokka decided. I'm going.
It had taken him all afternoon and most of the evening to make the decision, but in the end he decided the projected profit of the trip would be worth it. He could lay aside his airplane plans for a few days… or he realized I can just bring them with me. Sokka could work on the plans during any free time, in between bites at meals, or even work at night instead of going to sleep!
"Perfect!" Sokka said to himself. He decided to go to bed early-ish. If he was going to borrow Appa from Aang before the Moon Festival hubbub started, Sokka would have to rise before the sun—figuratively, at least. The sun had been gone for six months and wouldn't come back until the day after the festival.
"Welcome to the South Pole, where we have six-month-long nights," Sokka grumbled as he trudged through the snow from his workshop to the tiny igloo nearby where he slept. As always, he hunched over to avoid the moon's gaze, shivering as he navigated through the cold and the dark. Oh well. By this time tomorrow, he'd be relaxing on Hot Springs Island. Well, he'd be in the middle of business negotiations on Hot Springs Island, technically, but close enough.
Inside his tiny house, Sokka poured himself a cup of cold cheap tea and rummaged in the icebox. Curses. All he had was a gristly bit of arctic hen and a few sea prunes. Visions of mangoes, crab puffs, and fire flakes danced in Sokka's head. And there was meat, oh the different kinds of meat…
"Mmmm," he breathed unwillingly. When Sokka's business had begun to take off, he'd planned to import meats from all over the world for his meals until he realized just how expensive that was. His stomach said yes to the cost but his pocketbook decidedly said no. So Sokka, too busy to catch food himself, bought local cuisine from the neighbors until this year's poor hunting had raised the prices to ridiculousness. Now the young inventor purchased only the cheapest foods, which he then stretched for several meals. The arctic hen gristle, for example, was left over from yesterday's lunch and dinner.
He picked up the unappetizing meat and looked at it. And to think he could afford to eat steak for every meal… but no, he couldn't, he needed to save that money… for… something…
Sokka set some snow in a pot over the fire, then threw in the gristle and sea prunes. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he settled down next to the fire pit and watched his supper stew.
Making dinner soon proved tedious. "Should've brought something to work on," Sokka mumbled. As it was, he was left stirring his pot of stew, which was beginning to smell, but not in a nice way. It sort of reminded him of the smell his mom's seal soup gave off after he dumped soap in it when he was a kid.
The thought of his mom's cooking made him think of Katara—now a mom herself, which was always kind of weird for Sokka to think about. He wondered what Katara was making for dinner tonight. True, times were lean for the Avatar's family and true, they ate vegetarian, but a meal with them was still always a treat. Katara made a mean seaweed biscuit. Well, she used to. Sokka couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten at his sister's home.
Another person who'd surely eat well tonight was Sokka's dad, who was about twelve times the cook Sokka would ever be. Hakoda's salted fish rolls were to die for, to say nothing of his five-flavor soup. The thought was almost enough to make Sokka jump to his feet and run to the chief's house for dinner. Too bad things were so awkward between them these days.
The stew should be done. Sokka poured himself a bowl and decided that, hey, it didn't look so bad.
"It's edible," he declared to his empty home. "I think." He scooted back against the frozen wall and gazed into the depths of his bowl, trying to figure out if it was possible to eat the stew without letting it touch his tongue. Finally he decided that no, it wasn't, and chugged the broth, then quickly chewed up the sea prunes and gristle. It was actually pretty good. Ish. Sort of. Okay, not really. It was gross. Sokka drank cup after cup of tasteless tea until his mouth was relatively cleansed whilst making notes on a scrap of paper. If he could make a machine that could extract the nutrients from food and distill them into one small chewable square, he could sell the thing for a fortune and also save himself from having to eat a meal like this one ever again. You'd never have to go through the squeamish experience of eating gristle if you could just suck the energy value right out of it.
Sokka jotted away until he realized it was getting pretty late and that he really should go to bed. Yawning, Sokka moved to put out the fire. His mind had already leapt ahead to the delights of snuggling down in his sleeping bag when there was a knock at the door.