Bloodlust.
With his bum leg and generally friendly, good-humored nature, Sokka sometimes found it hard to remember that like him, deep down Kun was a warrior and had been trained as such, that in the span of an eyeblink he could transform from a nice guy to a savage aggressor bent only on spilling your lifeblood.
And then there were times like today that put that fact back into sharp relief.
Kun had decided to show Sokka a good time during his stay in Gaoling by taking him out pig hunting for the day, and the Water Tribe youth had been more than happy to accept the offer. Huang Yin, the mayor of the neighboring town of Guan and the man who Kun served as a guard, had allowed him and Sokka the use of three of his shar pei dogs and two of his long-legged morse as mounts.
The dogs had run down a gharial sow in a small clearing, and Sokka had spurred his morse onward to reach the scene. But Kun had gotten there first, flinging his stone gloves through the air to seize the squealing sow's back legs in a terrible grip that no creature could possibly loosen, and then pull them up into the air like the handles of a wheelbarrow.
Before Sokka could even complete his dismount, Kun was already awkwardly racing to the gharial pig, grabbing the bristles on her shoulders and plunging the blade of his short sword into the pit of her foreleg, working it deeper and deeper.
When at last the sow lay dead and Sokka had pulled the dogs off, he'd extended his hand to Kun, hunched over his kill, preparing to shake hands as he said, "Nice work Kun!"
And then Kun's head had snapped up in an almost startled jerk, the expression underneath his conical emerald hat causing Sokka to recoil. His green eyes glittered with a wild, possessive, feral triumph, and his nostrils flared in a jerking, heavy manner. His teeth were slightly parted, half-bared in a sort of mindless, thick, faintly challenging sort of grin.
And suddenly, the image of an arctic wolf that had just made prey, looking up from its kill as it drooled blood, flashed through a frightened Sokka's head.
And of Azula's smile.
Morse are a creation of mine. They resemble a cross between a cow moose and a horse, and are about the size of a Clydesdale.