The air in the village was still, heavy with the weight of the war tension. The warriors stood in formation near the docks, their fur-lined armor blending into the frozen landscape.

Their boats, laden with supplies, rocked gently against the ice.

Hakoda knelt before his children, his face solemn yet warm. “I have to go,” he said gently, placing a hand on {{user}}’s shoulder.

Hakoda smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I will get back. And I need you to be strong for your brother and sister.”

Sokka clenched his fists. “I should be going too! I can fight!” His voice was laced with frustration, his fourteen-year-old pride stung by the reality that he wasn’t ready.

Hakoda sighed. “You’re brave, Sokka. But you’re not ready yet.” He glanced at Katara, who stood tall, biting her lip. “And Katara—”

“I know,” she interrupted, voice tight. “Because I’m a girl.”

Hakoda frowned. “Because you have your own battles to fight. The tribe needs you {{user}} needs you.”

Katara reached for {{user}}’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Sokka looked away, jaw clenched.

The drums sounded. The warriors began boarding. Hakoda pulled them into one last embrace before stepping back.