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The thing about ice fishing was that it took a very long time.
Sokka stared into the icy water as he waited for any fish to consider biting. He hoped he had prepared everything correctly; his father had taken him ice fishing exactly twice before, and now he was trying to remember how to do it alone.
It had been two years since his father and the other men of the village had left to fight in the war, leaving Sokka as the only responsible male figure. Everyone else was either too old, too young, or had no fighting experience. The safety of the tribe rested on his shoulders now.
"Sokka, it would be faster if you let me use my bending!"
The safety of his sister, on the other hand, was meant to be his responsibility, but she was incredibly stubborn. Ever since she had started practicing her waterbending more, she wanted to use it for everything. Sokka always wound up soaked.
"I told you, Katara, we can't risk losing the fish. Your weird magic," he said, gesturing to the shaky bubble of water she held floating above her head, "isn't strong enough to keep itself together, let alone hold a fish."
"It's not magic, it's waterbending! Besides, I can keep it together just fine, watch!"
She began to move her arms slowly. The water bubble moved through the air, huge droplets landing in the snow. Sokka knew exactly what was going to come next. That didn't make it any less unpleasant.
"Katara!" he complained as the bubble exploded, spraying all over him and his fishing equipment. Any fish that might have wanted to bite were surely gone now.
"Sorry!" She said it every time something like this happened, but Sokka was starting to suspect that it was on purpose.
"Leave it to a girl," he muttered, making sure to be quiet; he didn't want her to yell at him the way she had last time he'd said something like that. He started packing the equipment away.
"What are you doing?" Katara asked, coming over to help. "I thought you were fishing so we could have some extra supplies."
"I was, before someone decided to show me how it feels to be a baby penguin-seal." He squeezed some water out of his hair. It had been cold before, but now that his coat was soaked, he was freezing.
"It was an accident!"
He sighed. "I know, I know. Here, give me those. They're too heavy for you."
"I can carry them!" she protested, nearly dropping the large boxes of bait he'd brought.
"Katara, please. I can see that you're about to drop them. At least give me one."
"Fine," she grumbled, letting Sokka take one of the boxes. It was too heavy for him as well, but that wasn't something Katara needed to know. They started the slow walk back to the village together.
Ever since their father had left, Sokka had felt like it was his responsibility to make sure everything was running smoothly. He had to make sure Katara was happy, he had to make sure the food stores would last through the season, he had to make sure the village was safe...he knew, realistically, that Gran-Gran and the older people in his village could help as well, but he felt like he needed to be doing something.
He remembered his father's words to him before he'd left: "Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most. And for you right now, that's here, protecting your sister." Sokka hadn't understood at the time, but he was beginning to. These people needed him now that the men of the tribe were gone. They needed someone to keep them safe, to keep things together.
But...who was going to keep Sokka together? He couldn't put that burden on Katara, not entirely. She had already taken to filling their mother's shoes after they had lost her. Katara helped with the cooking and children and repairing clothes. She shouldn't have to worry about Sokka feeling lost and scared; he was supposed to guide her.
The truth was that he was scared. He had been scared since they lost their mother, and it had only gotten worse when their father left. Sokka was fifteen; he wasn't anywhere near ready to be leading the village. He pretended he was, though, because he felt like he needed to be. If he wasn't going to do the job, then who would?
As they drew closer to the village, Katara began to move slower. She was adjusting the box every few steps and breathing heavily.
"I'll take the box if you take the rod and my knife," he said, setting his box down. He knew that Katara would never admit to needing help—she was far too stubborn—but if he could at least get her to carry the lighter things, he could help her without directly saying it.
It was a testament to how tired she really was that she didn't hesitate to set the box down and take the offered lighter tools. Sokka set one box on top of the other and lifted them again, trying to ignore the fact that they were far too heavy. The village was close. He could handle this.
Once they reached the entrance to the village, Sokka dropped the boxes into a canoe.
"We're going back out," he explained when Katara gave him a questioning look. "I just need to change."
"We're going back out?"
"Well, the whole point was that we needed fish, and I didn't catch any. We're going to the water itself this time, though. Watch the stuff, please, I don't want to have to dig fish hooks out of kids' fingers." He walked toward their tent, pointedly ignoring the snarky comment Katara made under her breath about the time she'd done exactly that for him, and went inside to change. That had been once, and while he was actually fishing. These kids were regularly getting fish hooks in their hands for no good reason.
The village kids were nightmares. He had been trying to train them to be warriors, but they never paid any attention. He'd even spent days building a watchtower out of the snow, only for them to destroy it every chance they got. Katara always said they didn't mean to, that they were only kids, but he had seen them. It was definitely on purpose.
When he got back to the canoe, Katara was practicing her waterbending again. A huge clump of snow was slowly lifting from the ground. Sokka walked closer, but she didn't seem to notice. The snow lifted slightly higher before exploding into a puff of white and hitting Sokka in the face.
"Katara!"
"Sorry! I didn't see you!" The way she was trying not to laugh made him think she wasn't actually very sorry.
"Let's just get this boat onto the water, And no more of your weird magic, please," he sighed, dusting the snow off of himself.
She gave him a look. "It's not magic—"
"It's waterbending, I know, I know. Come on." Sokka helped her into the boat, climbed in, and started rowing. The second his back was turned, he heard the distinctive sound of water being pulled into the air.
Of course she was bending again. He wasn't surprised, really; just disappointed that he hadn't thought to bring another change of clothes. Hopefully he wouldn't have to spend too long in wet clothes when she inevitably did drench him again. He kept rowing toward a particularly large iceberg, hoping that he could at least catch some good fish.
What he didn't know was that he would be finding far more than fish that day.