Sokka would have disagreed on general principles, but he could hear it too. Someone below was singing about the turning seasons, to the accompaniment of lute and drum.
Aang sniffed. "Smoke. Fire Nation ship below."
Katara sighed. "Why can't they all be like that? Peaceful, musical, artistic . . ."
"Dammit, uncle!" a voice drifted up. "I won't play the horn!"
The three blinked.
"We're hallucinating," Aang said.
"Something in the fog," Sokka agreed.
"Let's just listen to the music," Katara suggested.
Below, the horn intoned melodiously and sulkily.
---