edited version of what's been written so far. the last bit, the part I just posted earlier, is pretty significantly added on to.
and yeah, this kind of situation just can't end well...
Months before his thirteenth summer, the men of the tribe had left. Just two months before he could have gone with them.
Sometimes, the shame of that burned in his liver, the thought that he could have joined the warband, found a man's glory in combat. It was a long journey to the earth kingdoms, he would have been of age before they saw battle. He could have...
Usually, he was far too busy to feel much of anything. Even as a boy, work was nearly endless, and with the men gone, all but the oldest of the elders, those too infirm to do much but sit and eat, the men's work fell to the shoulders of the boys.
And then, after a particularly bad storm at the start of winter, Sokka found that he was the only man in the village, the next oldest boys not of age until highsummer came again, and his work became not just that of a man, but of a chief.
He had thought, as a boy, that he knew what hard work was. When he took up a mans job, he had looked back on that childhood folly with a smile. Now, he knew that even a man's work was nothing before that of a leader.
Fortunately, winter had come, and the food was gathered, and there was little to do but huddle within the warren of the winter camp and keep track of the children and keep everyone from killing each other in a fit of winterfever, and make sure nobody ate more than their share of the food, and make sure the children learned the stories, and keep the lodges in repair and keep himself and the older boys well practiced with weapons for the hunts to come. That was enough to begin.
By the time the sun returned, and the stores of oilfish and frozen meat and blubber ran low, managing people had become bearable, and adding summer chores on top of it was only felt like an iceblock settling on his shoulders, rather than a berg. A heavy, but manageable weight.
And anyway, there was too much to do to worry about rest. There was meat to bring in, and bone and hides and snowroot and seaplums and the special sands and stones and dyes from the shallow waters off of hunguli'kituk, the serpent's point. There was carving to be done, and repairs, sealdogs to tend and train and break to harness, boys to teach the spear and club and boomarang. There were times, in the endless sun of highsummer, where he simply forgot to sleep at all.
And then when the darkness fell for the first time in weeks, there were the ceremonies of manhood, the ice-dodging, the hunts. There was the long vigil in the sweat-lodge, pouring water onto smoldering, tarry stones dug by hand from the seabed and telling the legends to the three who reached their thirteenth summer that year.
By the time his father had been gone two years, Sokka had entirely forgotten his shame at being left behind. His father had known he was the eldest left, should the elders die. His father had trusted him to lead the village well if that came, and he had done it. Every time he looked at the solid, well made domes of the family houses, the solid wall surrounding the village, well chosen iceblocks carefully stacked and the melted and refrozen into one piece, the lodge, whalebone struts and poles supporting clean hides and packed all round with snow and ice for insulation, he felt his chest lift with pride.
His people were thriving.
By the third year, he didn't even think of being left behind, except to wish that his father would return, to wish his father could see that his trust hadn't been misplaced.
In fact, by that time, Sokka only had one real problem left, outside the usual trials of life on the ice, and it was one that just wouldn't go away. There were almost a dozen men to work now, grown in the years since the warriors left to join the war, food was still plentiful, and the other villages had been quiet, most of their warriors had left as well.
But his sister.
She wasn't harming anyone, really, and there wasn't any cause to be ôdealing with herö, not yet.
But she was so odd...
It wasn't just a woman thing either, he'd asked Kanna, he hadn't thought of her as Gaanggan, Grandmother, in almost a year, and she didn't understand Katara either. Nobody in the village could. She didn't cook, or clean carcases, or store food. She didn't mend or make clothing, or any of the other tasks that women did. Sokka had had to take Tuklii, a girl of eight who's mother had died in childbirth and who's father had walked into a whiteout not an hour after telling stories as cheerfully as any last winter, into their families lodge to help Kanna with the work.
Katara spent all her time out on the ice, doing spirits knew what with waterbending, not that she seemed to accomplish much. Her tricks were useful, sometimes, when they worked. But sometimes they didn't work, and sometimes, too many times, they did just what they shouldn't, and ruined the labor of a day or more. He knew the men wouldn't take any action without his word. He'd lead them all through the rites, shepherded them all into manhood. And he lead them well. But the women, especially the ones of and near Katara's age, were beginning to talk behind his back, and his father had always said that that was a danger-sign as clear as a sealwolf's bark.
So he'd followed her out one day, leaving Mungka in charge of the village, it was good practice for Mungka anyway. He would be leading hunts before long, best get used to authority in the village, where everyone knew what to do anyway, and nothing seriously dangerous was likely to happen.
She'd walked a long way, almost a twelfth of the day, and days were long this close to highsummer. He followed, careful to use the tiny folds of ice and occasional drifts of snow to keep out of her sight.
But when he saw where she was going, he couldn't help but stop and stare.
There was a hole in the icepack, some quirk of current and pressure and sunlight and who knew what had contrived to open a pool three times as wide across as a whalewolverine was long. And in the center of that pool, surrounded by a thin ledge of ice, was a perfectly smooth sphere of what looked like impossibly clear crystal.
None of that was what caught his gaze though. It was strange certainly, but he'd seen stranger things on the ice before. Two days travel to the south, near the somewhat larger village of Wangitutuklan, there was a soaring spire of Ice as black as the midnight sky, and almost a year ago, he'd had to pull Katugnuk out of the arms of an ice hag, the man still screaming and fighting him to get back to the crooning half-woman despite the ruin her claws had made of his face.
But in the center of that sphere was a human shape. Sitting cross-legged, dressed in pale oranges and yellows, and covered in swirling arrow-shaped lines that shone with a blue light that nearly matched the intensity of the sun.
When he wrenched his eyes back to his sister, she had already navigated across the lake, hopping from one small chunk of ice to another, and was frowning hard at the surface of the sphere, at an area he noticed now was worn and pitted.
And then she swept her arms up, hand flowing back away from the sphere and past her face.
And slowly, slowly, the surface of the sphere followed, first tiny chips of ice, then trickles of water, then a slow, steady stream of it. Pulling away from the ice that bound the...whatever it was and into the pond.
He didn't realize he was on his feet, screaming at her to stop, until the stream of water failed and she whirled, the look of joy on her face shifting to fear. But she didn't stop, she turned and gestured frantically, and where before there had been a steam, now a jet of water shot out of the sphere, a hole appearing almost instantly and burrowing deeper and deeper. He forced himself to slow down as he reached the waterline. Leaping on ice was hard enough when it wasn't drifting on water and he wasn't running, but every time he glanced up and saw his sister trying to free...the thing...he found his feet moving faster. He had just caught his footing on the ring of flat ice around the sphere when the jet of water cut off, and the air shook with the terrible, horrifying sound of ice shattering.
Time slowed as he traced the jagged line that leaped up from the hole his sister had made, racing up over the crest of the sphere, and then the world disappeared in a whirlwind of fog and ice shards and air that seemed to glow.
When it cleared, he pulled himself back to his feet and took stock. Katara was on the ground, caught, by the lump on her head, by a chunk of flying ice. But she looked alright except for that and a few scrapes. He was much the same, though his parka would need mending when he returned home.
He looked at the lip of the sphere, it had been meters thick, but the thing inside it had vanished.
Slowly, he forced himself to climb up to the lip and look down. In the bottom of the hollow formed by the last remnants of the sphere, there was a giant, white furred...something, an animal of some sort.
Sitting on the back of the animal, in what looked like a giant saddle, was a boy, dressed in yellow and orange, covered in no longer glowing tattoos.
The boy looked up.
ôwha laaitah shen maam dehmun sohng bahnliö
Sokka blinked. That didn't sound like any Water tongue he'd ever heard, or any of the Earth languages he'd half learned from the very rare traders. Or the Fire speech he vaguely remembered from nightmares of the raids during his youth.
What on earth was this boy?
O0O
Kuei, Fourty Fourth Lotus of the High Courtyard, The Gentle Hand, Blessed of the Great Beast, Speaker of the Realm, Divine Arbiter, King of the Four Corners of the Land, High King of North and South, King of Earth, and several dozen other titles besides, was eating lunch in the courtyard of his sanctum when the world went white.
He sat on nothing, breathed nothing, saw nothing but unending white. The light was worse than the sun, but nothing, not his eyelids nor his up-flung hands, shielded his eyes from it. It seemed to fill him, running into and through him, rendering him as insubstantial as mist. There was nothing but the white, brighter than anything he had ever seen.
Then he saw a shape. It was brighter even than the light, but he could not look away. It was a boy, no more than twelve, floating legs crossed and arms on knees. Kuei couldn't make out any features, no eyes or mouth or nose. But the boys forehead and cheeks bore shining blue arrows formed of swirling script that seemed clear and distinct for all it's tiny size.
I Come
there was no voice, nothing his ears could comprehend. His mind gave it the crack of shattering stone, the roar of a fire, the crash of waves, the howl of a tornado.
I Come.
And then he was once more in his courtyard, his servants staring at him, the delicate teacup of worked bone in his hand. The table before him was still standing, but his breakfast was in ruins. Food and broken plates and trays and pitchers scattered across the table.
He started, that scatter was not random. It formed a circle, bisected into quarters, each quarter with the symbol of one of the elements in it.
He shivered, remembering that unheard voice. Then sat bolt upright as it came again, this time in the waking world.
Be Ready
O0O
The Fire Lord's war room which had for ninety years been the throne room in all but name, was silent save for the faint hiss of the wall of flames which cloaked the Fire Lord, turning his massive figure into a eerie silhouette. Twenty messengers stood along the walls of the lower level of the room, their faces staring blankly at the opposite wall, hands clasped behind their stiff backs.
The world went white.
I Come
The voice fell upon Ozai like a huricane. It crashed over his shoulders like a rockslide, tore at him like a tsunami.
I Come
The light faded, and he was once more in his throne room. But the wall of flame, the boundary that cloaked his holy person from the sight of the unworthy, was gone, his control over it broken in those moments of strangeness. And in front of him, gouged from the stone of his platform, was a quartered circle, each quarter filled by the symbol of an element.
The servants were still rigid, still staring blankly ahead, but he could see the sweat running off them, feel their terror in the air. To look upon his form without permission was death.
ôLookö he said, and as one, all eyes snapped to him, ôlook upon your lord, and obey.ö
The servants dropped to their knees and pressed their faces to the floor.
ôAs the Blood of Agni speaks, so do we obey.ö
ôThen go!ö Ozai thundered, ôGo and tell my advisors and generals to come before me, they will await my call in the anteroom. Go!ö
They fled, but before the last one managed to leave the room, Ozai gestured him to remain.
ôYou will tell my daughter to attend me, at once.ö
The man collapsed to the ground once more, shaking with fear.
ôBy your word, Lord of Flames.ö
He leaped to his feet and ran. Ozai thought he could see tears in the man's eyes.
'my daughter' he thought, 'must learn much, and quickly.'
The voice that was not came again.
Be Ready
O0O
Toph had used the tremors of the earth to understand the world for so long she no longer consciously thought of it. She simply knew that the Boulder was twenty paces to her left, winding up for one of his signature barrages of stone.
She stepped forward, slid her feet twice, and jerked her knifed hands up and then down. The Boulder went flying, but not quite out of the ring.
Alright, so he'd been practicing.
She was about to finish him off, when the world went white.
Toph nearly screamed. There was...some sort of sensation, she couldn't understand. The world was, was...she didn't even know what the word was. It...something was new, about her perception. There was something shining on her, it felt like the sun, but more. Shining not just on her, but through her. And her eyes hurt, there was... light? Was this what it meant to see?
I Come
What? Sound but not quite sound, there weren't any vibrations, nothing she could use to find who was talking.
ôBoulder? Boulder? This isn't funny you ass!ö
I Come
the strange, unsettling sensation vanished, and she could feel the arena again. But that wasn't important.
'What the hell was that...' she thought, 'what was...'
She shook her head, it could wait. She had a tournament to win.
ôHey Boulder, you won't get rid of...ö
She cut off as something slammed into her gut and sent her flying off the platform and into the pits. In the explosion of stone, none noticed as the quartered circle in the dust was obliterated.
Groggily, she pulled herself to her feet. Above her she could hear the cheers, for the boulder this time, when she'd had the match in the bag before that....
ôYou come huh?ö she muttered, ôwell, come on then, real quick. Cause I got some words for you asshole.ö
Then the Voice came again.
Be Ready
Toph snorted.
'Oh don't you worry, I'll be ready alright.'
The grin stretched across her face would have terrified anyone who saw it.
O0O
All across the world, light flared, and people stopped what they were doing in shock as something spoke to the very core of their being. Some screamed, some fell to the ground in worship, some simply stared, minds burned away by the torrent.
In the Palace of the Northern Water Tribe, in the practice yard that stood near the hall of the Clan Chiefs, an old man with long hair fell silent in the middle of a tirade to an erring pupil. He stood, mouth working silently, his eyes seeming to stare into nothing as the ice before him erupted in a fountain of frost. He shook himself and dismissed the students, all of them. They ran before the could see the pattern graven on the ice.
In a small, cold supply post in the southern sea, a stocky man with thick sideburns went silent in the middle of a toast. The goblet of wine dropped from his hands to spread in lines across the table. Then he gasped and fell to his knees, hands curled tightly on the floor, breath rasping in his throat.
ôLeave meö he grated out, and his guests hurried out as quickly as dignity allowed.
None of them glanced at the quartered circle the spilled wine had made.
In an ancient, ruined shack standing atop a cliff that overlooked a swamp, an old woman picked herself up off the floor. Laughter bubbled in her throat, and her gnarled hands worked against each other eagerly.
She felt a sudden urge to gather certain herbs. Rare and powerful.
Her cackles echoed across the marsh.
In a village that rested just below a smoldering volcano, a wrinkled fortune teller smiled as her apprentice lay shivering on the ground. The girl had not been ready for her first vision, but the call of that spirit would wait for no mortal.
And on a small ship deep in the ice floes of the south pole, an old man sat back quietly in his chair and frowned in thought as he stroked his beard. His eyes never wavered from his nephew's back.
O0O
Zuko was just placing a stone on the middle board of the zho tower sitting between him and his uncle when the world went white.
He was in the middle of diving for the deck to avoid whatever it was when the blazing light cut off abruptly, as if it had never been. He felt, faintly, like he was missing something. A memory on the edge of thought that vanished even as he reached for it.
He put it out of his mind and strode to the prow of the ship, staring at the line of liquid fire that stood over the horizon.
ôJaoö he ground out, and the young sailor nearest him started as he heard his name, ôtell the helmsman to head for that light. Make all speed.ö
The man bowed and ran, but Zuko had already dismissed him from thought. He turned back to stare at the pillar of light.
Then it vanished.
His scream was accompanied by a gout of flames that reached nearly as high as the bridge.
ôControl is the foundation of power, my nephew.ö
Zuko forced himself not to yell at his uncle. It did no good, and always made him feel horrid afterward.
ôI know, Uncle, it's just...it's so clear, whenö
ôNoö the word was harsh, ôthat clarity is illusion Zuko. Rage makes the world seem as clear as spring water, but it paints everything in a wine- haze.ö
Zuko winced. He certainly did tend to do foolish things when angry. And he was of Agni's Blood, even in exile. His men could no more disobey a foolish order than a wise one.
ôYou think,ö the older man went on more gently, ôthat this is the end. That all you must do is to reach that place, and the avatar will fall into your grasp.ö
Zuko nodded, then hung his head. 'fool' he thought, furious with himself, 'as if you've never thought that before'.
It was just like the Northern Air Temple, or the dozen times he'd heard rumors of benders doing things that shouldn't be possible.
None of those had panned out either. Not every oddity came from the avatar.
It did little to calm the pounding in his head and chest, and he turned back to stare at where the pillar of light had been. Even when he focused on his uncle's words, he still couldn't shake the feeling, the knowing, that this was it.
'I will find the Avatar, this time' he thought, 'and I will reclaim my place.'
O0O
ôWhat you are.ö the strange boy said again, as he had every five minutes since Katara, the stupid girl, had freed him from the ice. After the first startled babbling, the boy had started speaking in what sounded like East Rapids dialect spoken by a deranged parrot-cat, which seemed to be the closest language he knew to Sokka's own North Spire dialect.
None of Sokka's attempts at any of the trade languages, or the smattering of Wagchampa he'd picked up from Earth traders did any better for letting them understand each other.
He shook his head again and put a hand over his stomach to indicate himself.
ôSokkaö he said, then punched the boy, lightly, on the arm and grunted an interogative.
This time, it seemed to get through. The boy frowned for a moment, then turned all the way around in his seat at the front of the saddle, and put his hand over his own stomach.
ôAang, me Aang. Be...ö and Aang faded back into incomprehensibility.
Sokka stifled a groan.
By the time the lumbering...thing...had gotten them back to the village, Sokka was feeling rather satisfied with himself. Katara was breathing steadily and didn't show any signs of real hurt, the kid was making more sense, by then he sounded almost as understandable as an East Rapids man, for what little that was worth. And the kid didn't seem so bad, for someone who'd been frozen in a giant crystal sphere of ice for who knew how long...
He felt like smacking himself in the face, and never mind the cold mittens. That hole in the ice was new, he'd been out hunting that way not a month before.
His sister, that hole in the ice, a mysterious stranger...
He went ahead and smacked his face. He'd have to find some way to get her to follow his order not to fool around with waterbending anywhere near the village.
Or at all, if he could manage it.
He pulled Katara down from the saddle and passed her to Kana to tend to, then waved away the crowd that had formed with a few sharp words about finishing their work. The sun wasn't even halfway up the sky yet, and it would be a good two hours before it was time to break for midday.
It took them longer to disperse than it should have, but he didn't feel much need to harass stragglers. It wasn't every day he rode into town one some strange beast with an unconscious sister and a chattering kid.
He walked with the boy, with Aang, while they found a place to drop the beast off, then lead him through the door of his family lodge. It wasn't the biggest, Katugnuk's household had been built to include his entire extended family, and took up five times the space of Sokka's lodge, but it was well made. He deposited the boy on a fur draped over a flat stone and pulled off his parka before sinking to his own similar seat across the room.
ôFire and meat are yours this night, and the shelter of my roof.ö
The boy looked like he understood one word in three, if that, but it didn't matter, it was a ritual phrase.
ôWhere wnglble be? No hear yesterday you ngn! Penguin nat fly? Me penguin nat fly! To Eat?ö Aang said.
And just like that, all pretense of dignity fled the room. Sokka smacked his face again.
O0O
ôHe is Airbender.ö Kana told him as she draped a fur over the sleeping child.
From his seat against the wall, Sokka started. Stories of the Air peoples were told infrequently, and they were always vague and usually contradictory. But one thing that was always clear was that not a single line of Air descent still lived. For this boy to be an airbender, somehow preserved in the ice for generations...it was like a spirit tale. It was like stepping through the sky-veils to dance in the afterworld with the forgotten.
He shivered.
ôAre you sure Kana?ö he asked, ôhe's only a child.ö
He almost thought she would pinch his arms like he was a boy, but her arms dropped before she touched him. The small twist of her lips remained though.
ôI remember stories not told since long before you were born, my chief, before your father was born. He has the look, and the marks.ö
Even as she said it, her face fell back into worry.
ôYou said it was early in the day you found him?ö she asked.
ôYes.ö He nodded slowly. ôWhy?ö He'd been careful to keep the full story to himself, and he was nearly certain he'd managed to bully Katara into doing the same once Kanna had woken her with salts and herbs and a swift application of icy water. He wanted to have some idea what to do himself before he let the whole village start dreaming up ideas.
Kanna did not answer immediately. Instead, she stood frowning at the small mounds of Aang and Tuklii and Atagnau, a maternal cousin too young even to learn a mans work. Sokka wasn't sure, but he thought the old woman included Katara's somewhat larger form in that frown.
ôI saw...no, it is not important now. But I do not think this Aang can remain here. Word will travel, and someday it will travel to the wrong ears. I have seen enough raids from Those.ö
She nearly spat the last word, her face twisting in a mask of hate that brought Sokka's mind to running in a blizzard, naked.
He didn't have to ask who she meant. Nobody in the village, nobody in any village nearby, for that matter, was unaware of Kanna's terrible hatred of the Fire Nation.
No small number shared it.
He laid a hand on her shoulder, touching blood kin did not pollute, and stood silent. Talking would be pointless now, the woman was lost to her memories. He squeezed her shoulder, then ducked out of the lodge and began to gather the men. Kanna was a wise voice, and stood for the women in council. If she thought this Aang a threat, it was a thought worth considering. The men could stand to lose a bit of sleep this night.
He ducked under the low opening of the lodge tunnel behind Mungka and let the thick sealwolf hide drop shut behind him. Ten paces on, he pushed aside the second hide and stepped down the final stair and onto the floor of the council lodge. It was a large circular room, seeming empty with only a dozen men, there had been more when it had been built. 'and it will be filled again' he promised himself by rote, as he did every time he entered.
There was no dais or throne, as he'd heard the Earth people used. Council was a meeting of equals, the chief might be the final word among them, but here any man could speak his mind and argue a point. The floor was flat except for a stone lined pit in the center with a pile of smoldering tarstones resting in it, even now being breathed to full flame by the first man to enter. The light shone off the frosted walls and ceiling, and smoke drifted up to the smokehole with it's complicated arrangement of hide covers that trapped heat inside while letting soot out. The circle was ringed by flat stones, seats. He took his own place to the left of the door, and the others spread themselves roughly evenly around the circle.
Chakta was the first to speak, the youngest always spoke first, getting their business out of the way before the council moved on to the more important talk of the elders. He didn't ask Sokka what he wanted and Sokka didn't interrupt. The matter of the oilfish and the feud with the Whale Chasers over harvest grounds was important itself, and they might as well use the opportunity of the gathering to hash out what concessions they might make in compromise. Then the next eldest stood to speak, this time about the difficulty of finding tarstone in the old pits to the southwest of the point and the prospects of digging new pits to the southeast, then the next brought up plans for the Highsummer rites. So it went on.
It took well over an hour for all of them to work through whatever business they though important enough to bring up, and then it was his turn to speak.
ôKanna thinks my guest may bring trouble.ö He said simply. Formality and ritual had their places, but this was not among them. Council was a time for plain words and plain speaking.
Normally of course, Kanna herself would be here to give her own mind to the men, but he knew the black moods she fell to when her thought turned to the people of Fire, and knew that her voice would be tainted by it for hours yet.
ôDoes she say why?ö Chakta asked, scratching a finger across a chin without a hint of stubble.
Sokka told them.
'I think' he thought into the dead silence that followed, 'I might have to bring Airbenders up more often.'
He'd sometimes dreamed of shutting them up this quickly.
O0O
In his position, kneeling, face and palms pressed to the stone floor, Long Feng felt it was safe enough to grimace as he listened to his figurehead ruin years of work. The amount of time and resources spent keeping the young fool isolated and ignorant was incalculable. The resources keeping the level of disconnection between the Earth King and his subjects secret perhaps more so.
And now it was all going to be ruined because of a blasted dream.
For twenty years, Since Kuei had been a child, the Earth King had been a docile, simple mined tool. He'd been content to sit in his luxurious palace and leave the business of real power to Long Feng.
But now, now after some random spawn of his own imagination, the boy was actually giving orders. Real orders, requiring something other than a smile and bow and assurance that it would be done. The boy wanted to leave the palace, to enter the lower ring, even to enter the farmlands outside the inner walls. It was a nightmare of security alone, to say nothing of keeping the King from discovering the war. One ignorant peasant shouting a question and the entire base of Long Feng's power would slip away.
He grit his teeth and forced himself to remain still, rather than standing and striking the cursed fool.
ô...prepare an escort well versed in the currents of the people and the city. Really I've been quite remiss, leaving you to take such a burden for so long. Your escort can inform me and answer questions during my inspection of the rings. Meanwhile, you shall...ö
Beneath his bowed head, Long Feng's face melted into a smile of triumph. An escort and adviser. He knew just the one. A pretty little doll, far to pretty to remain in that fishmonger's stall she'd been found in, and quite well conditioned at Laogai. The perfect distraction for a young fool.
They would have to shift her name though, he was reasonably certain Kuei had never met a Joo Dee before, but it was always best to be careful. Perhaps he'd name her Yuralria, she was nimble enough and her skin and eyes pointed to water tribe in her ancestry, Kuei had always been fascinated by those fool romantic epics.
Perhaps this wouldn't be such a setback at all. He could simply have the dolls control transferred to himself, then insert her into his puppet's life. Another thread to the leash, and another soft voice in Kuei's ear, whispering whatever Long Feng wanted.
Yes, quite satisfactory.
He kept his head bowed as he shuffled out of Kuei's presence. He wasn't certain he could keep the trace of a grin from his features.
O0O
From his crouched position at the top of the wall, Sokka could see the riders plodding towards his village clearly. The mounts were huge, hairless gray creatures with thick tails and long horns, draped in blankets and straps of red and black and gold. Mungka was trotting alongside the leader's beast in long, loping strides that easily kept pace with the animal. He could see more of his men to the left and right, though the Men of Fire probably could not.
That was as good as he could have expected, better than he'd hoped, when he sent out a scouting band towards the column of smoke on the horizon and donned his war paints and clothing.
Kanna had said word would spread, and the men had agreed that they would foist the boy on the first traders they could bargain passage with, but this had been wholly unexpected. There hadn't been any traders in the few weeks since Aang left the ice, and no visitors from the other villages had been by to see the boy.
That meant this ship must have been in the area, already nearby on that day when light split the sky, and had spent the last few weeks searching among the bergs and crevasses of the coast to find this place.
He turned and leaped down the stairs, the surfaces laid with stone for traction, and stepped out from the overlapping walls that made the gate.
He would parlay with the Fire Nation if it meant sparing his people from slaughter, no matter how Kanna might scream and wail, but he would invite them into the walls of his tribe only at the greatest need.
The men on the beasts started when they saw him, and he thought that perhaps the tales of the Fire Nation's weak eyes might be true, for the village wall was clearly visible behind him, clear to anyone in the abrupt shift of the snowpack as it bent against the ice and the way the glare slanted.
He raised the Chief's Spear, a top-heavy length of bone far to intricately carved to be used for anything but ceremony, and then thrust it point down into the snow. There were a few moments of rapid gesturing and faintly heard sounds of speech that passed between the Fire Nation leader and Mungka and some other man who seemed to be a translator, and then the the leader barked something, a harsh sound clear even at this distance, to his followers. When he advanced, Munka and the translator beside him, all but two of his men remained behind.
Sokka released the spear haft and let a little of his wariness ease. Leaving his men so far behind was a good indication that the leader would honor his offer of parlay. He didn't take his hand from the boomerang on his back though. He wasn't that stupid.
O0O
