Sokka frowns, watches the flames die down, feels the weak paper of the cigarette between his fingers. Something shines in the pyre and he digs in his pocket for a moment.

A little piece of cloth is produced, almost a handkerchief, and he steps toward the pyre to dig out a small circle carved blue stone, shining almost like glass.

He stares at it for a little while.

"...maybe it won't matter for me either."