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Sokka awoke when blankets rumpled. It was the deepest hour of nighttime. There was never a good reason for camp to stir at this hour, least of all not while they’re undercover in enemy territory.
Behind him, rhythmic motions, deep breathing. He balked. Surely his sister wouldn’t take such a risk, right under his nose.
He rolled over to catch them in the act. Katara’s wet eyes pierced him with the fury of the moon’s unseen abyss, daring him to protest. Her hand made circles on Aang’s scarred back, holding him tucked against her.
He left them to each other.