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In due time, Iroh must return to his tour of service. Bolin asks if they can correspond.
“We’ll see.”
He does, a couple weeks later, looking up into the morning sky at the messenger hawk descending toward him.
Iroh’s message is short, terse, with a simple request. Bolin smiles and saves the sprinkling of sand folded into a square of paper—from the finest black glass sand beach.
And later, Korra asks Mako; maybe he’s talked to his brother, but why was Bolin sending General Iroh a pressed flower?
I do find myself missing the scent of the mainland rose.