Stews are for southerners, Toph says, with a little huff of amusement. The north is cold, with mountains an’ all. You want to be warmed up, throw chilli and vinegar on everything. We don’t have the time for stewing.

Katara forbears to mention how cold the poles are (because, tmd, they are cold!). Instead she shuffles to one side, making space for Toph to kneel down at the small wooden table, and pats the ground. Come on, she chuckles, don’t say you don’t dare.

Grunting in reply, Toph sits down cross-legged and nudges the stew cautiously with soup-spoon and chopsticks.