Noah got the fire going about an hour after dark.
It took him three tries. His hands weren't steady, and the first two times the starter sparked and the kindling just sat there smoking at him. On the third he leaned down and blew on it until it caught, then sat back on his heels and watched the flames climb through the twigs like he'd never seen fire before.
Storm was lying on the far side of the clearing with his chin on the grass. He hadn't moved since One left. His eyes were open, and every few minutes they slid over to the grey trench in the dirt and stayed there a while.
"You can come closer, you know," Noah said. "He's gone."
Storm didn't move.
"I'm serious. You're freezing the whole side of the clearing over there. The fruit's gonna die."
Storm let out a long breath through his nose. A thin crust of frost spread a few more inches across the grass.
"Okay," Noah said. "Fine. Sulk."
