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Summary
"Sokka" Zuko spoke, garnering the tribesman's attention.
"Fire Lord Zuko," Sokka said, lowering his gaze to avoid Zuko's eyes, "you look well," Zuko felt so small.
Sokka spoke mechanically, rehearsed, like the conversation was strained and the six words were something he might choke on.
It dawned on him.
Zuko was alone, not even Hakoda was here to defend him from the carnivorous harpies, it was just him. His hands shook, lips trembled, but he did his best to show face. His smile disappeared, his warmth dying like the last coals on a hearth, and Zuko felt cold.
He hated the cold.
