“Beh?” My eyes open wider as I realize I am not dreaming this time, and her eyes are really open. She is really awake and making sounds again. “Beh!”
I cradle her against me and hold on as tightly as I can without hurting her. I sob her name-sound over and over again as I hold her, and my chest feels lighter as she raises her hand to grasp my upper arm. Pulling back a little, I look over her face—just to be sure she really is awake—and run my hands softly over her skin. As my fingers touch her parched lips, I quickly jump up to bring her some water.
Moving is difficult because I am weak from lack of food and drink. I force myself to haul the water skin over along with one of Beh’s clay cups. With my arm around her shoulders, I help her sit up a little to drink. She ends up taking too much and coughs but only for a moment. She quickly takes another drink after the coughing subsides.
I place the cup down and touch the side of her face gently. Her eyes move slowly to mine.
“Beh…” I stroke over her cheek with the pad of my thumb, and I am rewarded with her smile and strange sounds.
I love them and press my lips off to the side of her mouth so she can keep making noises.
Carefully, I lay her back against the furs and go to warm up something for her to eat. I move over to the circle of stones next to the clay dishes and the dried meat and use a short stick to poke into the fire pit to find coals.
I am met with nothing more than cold air and ashes. I drop down to my rear in front of the cold ashes as the reality of it sinks into me.
The fire is out.
There is a pounding ache all around the back of my head, which makes it hard to think, but I know exactly what I have done. I didn’t think Beh was going to wake up, and I had let the fire go out.
I glance over my shoulder at Beh, still lying on the furs but at least with open eyes. I can see her fairly well from the light coming in the cave’s entrance, and she smiles at me when our eyes meet. She must not realize what’s happened.
Taking the risk, I move my hands through the ash, trying to find any bit of heat in the pile, but there is none. It is only cold and dusty. Some of the ash billows into the air and makes me sneeze.
When the fire burned my home and tribe, I had taken part of it with me and kept at least a spark of it alive through the first season I was alone. As the days grew colder, I forgot to bank it one night and woke to a cold campsite. Though I had made fire before, it had always been with the help of others to keep pressure on the stick and blow at the tinder if enough heat was created to light a bit of wool or hair to get the fire started.
I had no one to help me, and it had been three days of trying before I managed to get another fire started. Beh can’t wait that long. She is awake now, but she is still injured. I need to be able to care for her, and to do so, I will need fire. I don’t think Beh is well enough to help me.
I take a deep breath, fighting the desire to go lie back in the bed and succumb to the weakness I feel and the leftover despair of thinking Beh would not wake up. I can’t let myself give up now, though, just because I feel weak and tired. I have to help Beh, even if it will be hard to get another fire started. I also can’t take three days to make it happen. The cave is cold, and my mate needs warmth and food to get better.
Lining up some of the kindling Beh collected with the hide on a stick, I find a long, straight branch that should work well to make fire. I stumble outside to the cache of firewood and find a dry piece of outer bark that is fairly flat. I also strip off strands of inner bark from one of the logs. Running my fingers through my hair, I pull out several strands and bunch them up with the shavings from the log. Together, they should make good tinder if I do manage to produce a spark.
When, not if.
I failed my mate when I let the fire die, and I have to make it right, now. I have to make a fire for Beh. I won’t fail her again.
I get everything I need together and go check on Beh. I bring her water and dried meat along with one of her cups full of acorns. I quickly break them open with a stone and place my lips against her forehead before I go back to my fire-building materials. I can hear Beh making her sounds, and I look back over my shoulder at her, listening closely.
I love her sounds.
Placing the shavings to one side of the flat piece of bark, I use my flint knife to carve out a small depression in the center of it. Once it is the right size to firmly hold the straight stick, I place the end of it in the hole and raise myself up on my knees. I hold the stick between my palms and take a deep breath. My hands begin to rub back and forth rapidly, setting a quick rhythm as I push down on the stick to create more pressure along with the friction.