slowly, for it was impossible to tell when they would run into a wall, or a wildcat, or anything else that might be here in the dark interior of this musty place.
"And kindling," she said.
"Aye," he agreed.
She cried out suddenly. He spun toward her, the movement nearly spilling him to the rocky floor.
"What is it?"
"My toes found a rock."
He chuckled. Ahh. So his sense of humor was restored. Twas good to know. Or mayhap fatigue and hypothermia were contriving against his better sense. "You always had smart feet."
She stumbled toward him, handed him the stone then turned away in search of kindling. He did the same, but in a few minutes she returned to shakily deposit a small pile of indistinguishable something on the floor in front of him.
Squatting, he gripped a coin in ungainly fingers and struck it against the stone. It felt rather like trying to remove a sliver with a pair of turnips.
Nevertheless, Rachel hurried away, searching again. Liam struck, hit his fingers on the rock, swore, and tried again. A spark streaked from the stone, but extinguished before it hit their precious pile of kindling.
Time moved on, punctuated by the keeling of the wind outside and their chattering teeth.
Something cracked behind him. Liam jumped, nearly dropping his stone. "Rachel!"
"Tis me," she rasped, breathing hard.
"What the devil are you doing?"
"Scaring you witless, apparently."
"What have you got?"
"Start the fire and you'll find out."
Something cracked near at hand, and he could only assume she'd found a tree limb.
He set to striking again, rhythmically now, forcing his fingers to do his bidding again and again until finally another spark flashed from the stone. It lit precariously onto the tinder. Liam leaned forward, blowing frantically... and blew the tiny flame into nothingness.
"Sweet Mary," Rachel rasped, and for a moment Liam wondered if he heard tears in her voice.
She hunkered down beside him. Their arms brushed. He felt her shiver against him. "You strike, I'll nurture the flame. Hurry."
Liam fell stiffly to his job again. An eternity later another spark streaked in the darkness. The fragile flame soared into the kindling.
Liam held his breath. Rachel leaned over the spark and blew.
"Carefully! Carefully!" Liam chattered, but she didn't respond.
Hands cupped around the tiny pile of twigs and feathers, she blew again. The tiny spark flared.
Dropping his tools, Liam snatched up a dry stalk of something and fed it to the infant flame. It ate into the chaff.
"More! More kindling!" Rachel rasped.
Liam jolted to his feet and rushed away to search the walls, the floor, the ceiling only a few inches above his head.
"Here!" A short time later he knelt before her, bearing gifts.
"Bless you," she breathed, and snatching up a dried bird's nest, carefully fed it to the flame.
It crackled greedily, the size of his fist now, and Liam was nearly overpowered by an aching desire to bend over it, to absorb its timid heat. But by its glow, he could see Rachel's face. It was as pale as death, and her lips were nearly the color of her eyes, an eerie mixture of blue and purple.
Straightening with a jolt, he hurried off to scour the cave again.
It took an eternity to conjure up a real fire, but finally after breathless care and muscle-numbing worry, they nursed it into the world, feeding it scraps and twigs until it was ready for small branches.
"We did it!" Rachel stared into the flame, her narrow hands spread to catch its warmth.
"Aye." He was crouched on the opposite side. "Tis a good thing you have such clever feet."
She glanced up.
"They found the rock," he explained.
Her face had gained a tiny bit of color, he noticed, and the corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly. They had regained some of their usual raspberry hue, but not nearly enough.
"And tis a good thing you're immoral," she said.
"Or we would have no coins with which to strike a fire."
Her lips tilted up more dramatically. She was near
"And kindling," she said.
"Aye," he agreed.
She cried out suddenly. He spun toward her, the movement nearly spilling him to the rocky floor.
"What is it?"
"My toes found a rock."
He chuckled. Ahh. So his sense of humor was restored. Twas good to know. Or mayhap fatigue and hypothermia were contriving against his better sense. "You always had smart feet."
She stumbled toward him, handed him the stone then turned away in search of kindling. He did the same, but in a few minutes she returned to shakily deposit a small pile of indistinguishable something on the floor in front of him.
Squatting, he gripped a coin in ungainly fingers and struck it against the stone. It felt rather like trying to remove a sliver with a pair of turnips.
Nevertheless, Rachel hurried away, searching again. Liam struck, hit his fingers on the rock, swore, and tried again. A spark streaked from the stone, but extinguished before it hit their precious pile of kindling.
Time moved on, punctuated by the keeling of the wind outside and their chattering teeth.
Something cracked behind him. Liam jumped, nearly dropping his stone. "Rachel!"
"Tis me," she rasped, breathing hard.
"What the devil are you doing?"
"Scaring you witless, apparently."
"What have you got?"
"Start the fire and you'll find out."
Something cracked near at hand, and he could only assume she'd found a tree limb.
He set to striking again, rhythmically now, forcing his fingers to do his bidding again and again until finally another spark flashed from the stone. It lit precariously onto the tinder. Liam leaned forward, blowing frantically... and blew the tiny flame into nothingness.
"Sweet Mary," Rachel rasped, and for a moment Liam wondered if he heard tears in her voice.
She hunkered down beside him. Their arms brushed. He felt her shiver against him. "You strike, I'll nurture the flame. Hurry."
Liam fell stiffly to his job again. An eternity later another spark streaked in the darkness. The fragile flame soared into the kindling.
Liam held his breath. Rachel leaned over the spark and blew.
"Carefully! Carefully!" Liam chattered, but she didn't respond.
Hands cupped around the tiny pile of twigs and feathers, she blew again. The tiny spark flared.
Dropping his tools, Liam snatched up a dry stalk of something and fed it to the infant flame. It ate into the chaff.
"More! More kindling!" Rachel rasped.
Liam jolted to his feet and rushed away to search the walls, the floor, the ceiling only a few inches above his head.
"Here!" A short time later he knelt before her, bearing gifts.
"Bless you," she breathed, and snatching up a dried bird's nest, carefully fed it to the flame.
It crackled greedily, the size of his fist now, and Liam was nearly overpowered by an aching desire to bend over it, to absorb its timid heat. But by its glow, he could see Rachel's face. It was as pale as death, and her lips were nearly the color of her eyes, an eerie mixture of blue and purple.
Straightening with a jolt, he hurried off to scour the cave again.
It took an eternity to conjure up a real fire, but finally after breathless care and muscle-numbing worry, they nursed it into the world, feeding it scraps and twigs until it was ready for small branches.
"We did it!" Rachel stared into the flame, her narrow hands spread to catch its warmth.
"Aye." He was crouched on the opposite side. "Tis a good thing you have such clever feet."
She glanced up.
"They found the rock," he explained.
Her face had gained a tiny bit of color, he noticed, and the corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly. They had regained some of their usual raspberry hue, but not nearly enough.
"And tis a good thing you're immoral," she said.
"Or we would have no coins with which to strike a fire."
Her lips tilted up more dramatically. She was near
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