A girl keeps warm by the lit fire.
A fire made from flint and rotten birch twigs.
A tree that once was a home.
A home that belonged to a family of squirrels and the occasional woodpecker.
A family that has been destroyed by hunters.
A group of hunters who never know when enough is enough.
A boy starts lighting a fire.
A fire made from soggy fern leaves and one matchstick.
A matchstick, the last one in the pack.
A pack given to the boy from his father.
A father who abandoned his son in a forest.
A forest that makes men grow up, he said.
A girl wanders from her fire.
A fire losing its embers.
A boy hears an intruder.
An intruder, he thinks, they could kill me for all I care.
A thought which vanishes when a girl whose face is covered with smudges of dirt appears.
A girl who has five birch twigs in her arms.
The boy motions for her to sit across from him and speak.
A fire, the girl whispers, please let me stay near the fire.
This fire isn't mine, he says, I started it but I can't control fire.
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