So cold! Darkness filled the hut, along with the odors of goat dung and smoky clothes. Shivering again, I could see with my second sight that the scarf had slid off my chest. Yet that wasn’t the real problem: The fire had gone out completely. I rose, flexed my stiff fingers, and crawled over to the hearth, trying not to disturb anyone. Carefully, I poked the fire’s remnants with a twig, hoping to find at least one ember. But there was only charcoal, dusted with ash, and some unburned bits of goat dung. Drat, I told myself. Now I’d need to start a new fire from scratch! I thought of using the incantation of the fire-bringer, but that magic always caused a loud eruption along with the flames—certain to wake everyone. And even more than warmth, my friends needed their rest. Holding my chilled hands under my armpits, I looked around the hut for more fuel. There! Next to the wall sat a few sticks about the thickness of my staff.
