The group had finally settled for the evening, pitching their tents in a clearing near a bubbling brook. Aang was perched on a rock, watching Appa munch on a pile of hay they’d managed to scavenge earlier. The newcomer sat a little ways off, sharpening a blade with deliberate, precise movements.

Aang had noticed they tended to stay apart from the group, rarely speaking unless directly addressed. It wasn’t outright hostility, but there was a quiet tension about them that made him wonder.

He slid off the rock and walked over, his staff clicking softly against the ground. "Hey," he said, his voice as light and friendly as he could make it.

Aang plopped down cross-legged in front of them. "You don’t talk much, do you?"