The orange flames danced merrily to their crackly tune. It was a sweet balm to the soul.
The heat washing over her was an unusual feeling - her own unique blue flame could not sear its mistress.
It would be easy enough to quench the fire and replace it with her own more powerful blaze, but Sokka had insisted on doing things the "right way."
What a man from the frozen wastes knew about camping was beyond Azula. Snow made for a poor campsite, and he'd never seen a tree until recently.
Still, she snuggled up to him under the blanket.