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For the time being, he would make do with what little there was. Such was life in this world.
He knelt before the hearth, brushing aside the cold ashes before laying down a few pieces of pinewood. The dry wood caught quickly, and soon the orange flame flickered to life, licking against the stones. Its warmth crept into the air, soft and steady.
He set a clay pot above the fire and filled it with clear water from the jar nearby. Then his gaze drifted to the small table where the morning's ingredients waited a strip of dried fish and shrimp, and a bundle of mushrooms still beaded with mountain dew.
