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    Summary

    Sokka waits, weighing the pros and cons of chancing stepping out into the lantern lit street once more, and ultimately deciding against it. He turns instead to head back down the alley, twisting his way around the narrowly cleared path filled with empty sacks and crates, and nearly falls flat on his face when his foot catches on something he tries to step over at the same time it tries to jolt away. 

    Still, he is shocked enough to go wheeling forward, and his bag of carefully procured supplies goes tumbling free to scatter all over the ground as he catches himself. “What the-?”

    But the moment his eyes catch it, he is frozen to the spot. 

    The leg he had fallen over, being pulled beneath a body. 

    And there is a moment of icy dread, fear instant and instinctual before he can stop it but the sight of shredded clothing, of bruising, of the unfocused gold of a pair of eyes attempting to make sense of him, has a different concern immediately taking over. “Zuko?”

    Language:
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