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.