Mists of Dawn (36 page)

Mark
wasted
six
matches
before
one
hissed
and caught.
He
cupped
the
priceless
light
in
his
hands and
applied
it
to
the
wood
shavings.
The
wood
was damp
from
the
night
mists,
the
flame
flickered
very feebly
and
almost
died.
Mark
realized
he
had
never appreciated
a
fire
before.
Fires
were
always
something
you
just
took
for
granted,
but
not
now.
He
concentrated
every
atom
of
his
being
upon
that
scanty blaze.
He
blew
gently
on
it,
but
it
would
not
catch. He
frantically
lit
another
match
from
the
tiny
flame and
tried
again
with
the
same
results.
He
knew
that if
he
could
once
get
a
reasonably
hot
blaze
going, however
small,
the
fire
would
catch.
But
how?
He needed
paper,
and
there
just
wasn’t
any
paper.

Or
was
there?

With
sudden
inspiration,
Mark
dug
out
his
billfold from
his
pocket,
all
the
while
fighting
to
keep
some sort
of
flickering
flame
alive.
The
billfold
was
damp, but
not
wet.
He
fumbled
it
open.
It
was
dry
on
the inside.
Hastily,
he
slipped
out
five
dollar
bills.
He tore
one
to
shreds
and
sprinkled
them
gently
on
the tiny
spark.
They
hesitated
and
then
caught
with
little puffs
of
flame.
Mark
built
the
other
four
bills
around them
like
a
tent,
and
slipped
slivers
of
shaved
wood in
on
top
of
them.
He
held
his
breath.
The
flame wavered—and
then
caught
with
a
crackle.

Mark
watched
the
little
fire
heat
the
wood
and
move on,
spreading
to
the
larger
kindling
and
then
to
the branches
themselves.
He
watched
the
fire
as
though he
had
never
seen
a
fire
before,
as
though
it
was
the most
beautiful
sight
in
the
world.
He
watched
it
in utter
fascination,
until
the
heat
drove
him
back.

Mark
slipped
the
matches
into
his
billfold
and
returned
the
billfold
to
his
pocket.
Gratefully,
he
speared a
reindeer
steak
with
his
twin-forked
stick
and
held it
just
above
the
blue
point
of
the
crackling
flames. The
red
meat
contracted
and
juices
fell
hissing
into the
fire.
The
smell
of
roasting
venison
filled
the
air, and
Mark
sniffed
it
with
complete
pleasure.
He
had never
been
so
hungry
in
his
life,
and
nothing
had
ever smelled
so
good
to
him.

After
the
venison
had
been
thoroughly
cooked,
Mark took
the
steak
from
the
forked
stick
and
placed
it
on a
flat
rock.
He
used
the
knife
and
a
small
stick
to
cut the
meat
up
into
thick
sections,
and
then
he
ate.
The venison
had
the
zestful
tang
of
game
meat
cooked over
an
open
fire,
and
Mark
would
have
declared
without
a
moment’s
hesitation
that
it
was
by
all
odds
the most
delicious
meal
he
had
ever
eaten.
When
he
finished,
he
swallowed
more
cool
water
from
the
pool and
put
another
steak
on
the
coals
to
cook.