A/N: You might want to listen to Third Confluence by Ashton Wintory as you read this

He opens his eyes to the dark, crisp winter night. Winter was his favourite season. It's cold as, well, only winter could ever be this cold. But he doesn't mind. Gathering his furs tighter around him, he stepped as lightly as he can around his sleeping companions and made his way out of his cave.

Outside, the landscape was bathed in cold moonlight. The white, freshly fallen, powdery snow made even whiter by the moonlight. It almost looked like he might've journeyed with spirits into the spirit world.

He walked slowly, his feet still unsteady with sleep. He had no problem finding his way; the moon's light helped.

He couldn't stop the soft crunching his feet made as it broke the top layer of snow and in this particular moment, this moment of complete solitude that made it seem like he was the only creature alive, he didn't care.

Not even the other animals dared to make a sound.

He wove around a bare tree, its long branches like fingers beseeching the moon. He watched the bars of shadows it made and emphathised with it. He beseeched the moon too.

He turned around and continued on his way, his wolf tail swishing slightly in the stiff winter breeze.

He thought he was alone. He was wrong.

Another wolf was awake. And it was staring at him with intelligent, beady eyes. A white wolf. The wolf's pelt was so white and pure he felt dirty in his furs. The wolf regarded him and he slowly dropped down on to the ground, making himself as small as possible.

This was not a fight he wanted right now.

The lone wolf stared at him for another short moment and turned its head abruptly, the tip of its tail swishing much like his own. It slipped quietly among the trees and was seen no more.

Blinking at how ethereal the encounter was, he continued on his way, convinced that the presence of the white wolf was a sign. Maybe of acceptance and even agreement.

He made his way to the cliff he found yesterday. The climb up was steep but he didn't mind. He knew it would all be worth it. He watched as his breath solidified in the bitter cold. He shook the snow off his furs and was reminded of her. Shaking his head, wolf tail swishing, he trudged his way up the cliff.

Everything was so quiet.

He can't wait.

Finally, he made his way to the top of the cliff. He stumbled out of the line of bare trees.

Like he said, winter was his favourite season.

Because in winter, he can see her.

The moon was full and bright tonight.

As he felt the light of the moon caress his face, he felt the familiar yawning pit deep within his gut. He felt cold on the inside too.

He watched the moon and tried to see it as it was. He tried to see it as the moon.

Somewhere, he heard a wolf howl and wondered if it was the same wolf as before. The white, lone wolf.

The wolf let out another howl, long and mournful.

From somewhere deep inside him, he let out his own howl. The wolf stopped mid-howl and he could imagine it flicking its ears at him. As his howl ended, the wolf answered with another of its own howl.

He wondered about this wolf, howling at the moon. He wondered if it was just like him. He wondered if the wolf loved the moon just as much as he did.

He never told anyone how he felt and he hoped no one knew. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was okay. Like he was doing fine. But the truth is still there. He was not fine. He was not okay. How can he be okay when every night he was reminded of her? When every time he looked up at the sky he could see her and only her? When the moon was full, as it is now, its light only reminded him of her kiss? The last one lingering on his lips what he feared might be forever.

The curse of loving the moon.

He let out another howl, feeling very much like that old tale of the wolf howling for his love lost. The wolf howling at the moon.

He abruptly ceased his howling when he heard crashing behind him. It sounded large and lumbering, like a three footed badgermole and he wondered how he didn't notice it before. Quickly, he turned around and peered at the edge of the treeline, already bristling with resentment at being interrupted. He was ready to fight this distraction with everything he's got.

From amongst the bare trees, a girl stumbled out. She fell to the ground on all fours and he stood up, ready to help her.

It turns out she didn't need any help. She was simply clearing away a tiny portion of the snow on the ground. When she felt the bare earth, she pressed a hand on it for a second before abruptly looking up at his direction, her large eyes round and unseeing. Slowly, uncertainly, she made her way to him and he held out a hand to help her. When she bumped into his hand, she knocked it out of the way in annoyance.

"I know where you are," she snapped.

"You shouldn't be out here in the cold. You'll freeze." His voice sounded odd against his raw throat. Raw from the cold. Raw from howling his pain away.

"You should tell that to yourself."

"I'm wearing furs."

"Like I can tell, Meathead."

He knew by now that her harsh words hid deep kindness and wisdom beyond her years. "What are you doing here, Toph?"

"Oh nothing. I just woke up because of this loud animal howling not too far from my camp." She paused, her large and unseeing eyes turning away from him at that moment. "It sounded hurt. I wanted to see if I could help."

He blinked at her sudden shyness. "Maybe you scared it away with your lumbering. You sounded like a three-footed badgermole."

She tossed her head, her long bangs swinging in the stiff winter breeze. "I can't understand how you can like all this snow. I mean, how can you see?"

He smiled. "Quiet well now. Do you want to sit with me and wait for the wounded animal?"

"Sure. I might need help getting back."

"Really?" He was shocked by her admission.

"I just said I couldn't see," she snapped as she sat down next to him in a huff. After a few minutes she turned to him and muttered, "Hey. Would you mind sharing those furs you're wearing? I'm freezing my butt off here."

"I told you, you'll freeze." She hit him on the upper arm, a blow softened by his furs. He chuckled as he opened his blanket of furs and shivered at the rush of cold air. "Come here."

She hesitated for a few seconds but scooted closer to him and he enveloped her within his blanket and hissed. "Man, you weren't kidding. I feel like I just had a block of ice stuffed into my blanket."

"Rather a block of ice or a block of earth?" she retorted.

"At least a block of earth would be warmer."

She ignored him.

They sat in silence for a while. "Maybe that wounded animal was that wolf I saw on the way here," he suggested.

"What wolf?"

"That wolf that started the howling. I met one on the way here."

She turned to him then, a frown on her forehead. "Sokka, I just felt the ground. You were the only living thing around here for miles."

He blinked at the statement and stared back at the moon.

"Maybe it was a spirit wolf," she suggested, trying to cover up the awkwardness. "I can't feel spirits. They seem to not touch the ground. Kind of like Twinkle Toes."

"Yeah."

He watched the moon as the light caressed his face. For once, he wasn't reminded of her. His thoughts were distracted by this tiny block of ice next to him who was trying not to shiver too much. He handed her his gloves when he noticed her blowing on her hands to warm them and she reluctantly accepted. She tried to not move too much as she rubbed her hands over her arms.

"Do you want my moccasins as well?" he offered. "I'm plenty warm. And you're still barefoot."

She snorted. "I'll really be blind then."

He smiled at her and turned back to look at the moon. For once, it looked as he'd remembered it. For once, he didn't see her face. And for once, he didn't feel completely alone. He turned back to Toph and watched her as her shivering stopped and her teeth slowed their chattering.

He thought about the wolf that howled at the moon, long and mournful.

The wolf that loved the moon.