The Girl With the Bread

Azula and the Berries

Every cell in Sokka's body wants to dig into the stew and cram it, handful by handful, into his mouth. But Toph's voice stops him. "We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the train? We got sick then and we weren't even starving."

"Ugh. You're right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!" he says regretfully. But he doesn't. They are quite sensible. They each have a roll, half an apple, and an egg-size serving of stew and rice. He makes himself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls - they even sent them silverware and plates - and helps Toph with hers. When they finish, he stares longingly at the dish. "I want more."

"Me, too. Tell you what. We wait an hour, and if it stays down, then we get another serving," she says.

"Agreed. It's going to be a long hour."

"Maybe not that long," she hedges. "What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you..."

"I don't remember that last part," he says, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up his blush.

"Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking," she says without the slightest bit of embarrassment. He wonders how on earth she can do that. "Scoot over, I'm freezing."

He makes room for her in the sleeping bag. They lean against the cave wall, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. He can feel Iroh nudging him to keep up the act. "So, since you were five, you never even noticed any other boys?" he asks her.

"No," she says promptly, pointing to her milky eyes. He bites his lip, knowing the audience will get a hoot out of that. "You were the only one who made a lasting impression."

"I'm sure your parents will be thrilled, hearing you've been in love with a boy from the Seam," he jokes.

She shrugs. "My mother couldn't care less. But I don't care what my father thinks, and anyway, if we win, you won't be a boy from the Seam anymore. You'll be a boy from the Victor's Village."

That's true. If they win, they'll each get a house in the part of town reserved for the Hunger Games' victors. Long ago, when the Games began, the Air Temples had built a dozen fine houses in each district. Of course, only one of theirs is occupied. Most of the others have never been lived in at all.

A disturbing thought hits him. "But that means our only neighbor will be Iroh!"

"Ah, that'll be nice," Toph says. "You and me and Iroh. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."

"I told you, he hates me!" he says, but he can't help giggling at the image of Iroh becoming his new best friend.

"Only sometimes. When he hasn't had a drink, I've never heard him say one bad thing about you."

"He always has a drink, though."

"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Suki who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when she attempted to drown you," she says teasingly. "On the other hand, Iroh... well, if I were you, I'd avoid Iroh completely. He hates you."

"I thought you said I was his favorite."

"He hates me more. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."

He knows the audience will enjoy their poking fun at Iroh's expense. He has been around so long, he's practically an old friend to some of them. And after his head-dive off the stage at the reaping, everyone knows him. By this time, they'll have dragged him out of the control room for interviews about them. He's at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them, whereas Iroh has to be ready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like him when he was alone in the arena. He wonders how he's holding up, with the tea, the attention, and the stress of trying to keep them alive.