Sasha grunted a thanks at Ysran as he handed him the rock knife. At the mention of a stream, Sasha nodded at the idea of exploring it a bit. "Just don't wait until dark to come back; we don't know what's out there." 

He then got to work cleaning to kill while he still had daylight left. He'd gathered a stack of logs and dry tinder to start a fire, which was put on the back burner for now. He took the animal down to the water and began sawing at it with the crude knife. It wasn't easy, but he finally managed to get the hide off in mostly one piece and get the meat cut up into manageable hunks. He washed the excess blood from the meat and hide, then brought it over to the new firepit to set them on the rocks. Now came the tedious task of trying to get a fire going.

Admittedly, Sasha had only done this once before, years ago as a Cadette in the Russian ground forces. But he'd watched a few of those dumb reality survival shows, so why not give it a shot? He gathered up some dry grass and frayed it together into a nest. Then, with two rocks, he began to clack away in an attempt to get sparks. 

About half an hour later, each strike was being accompanied by a frustrated slew of words that could only be swearing in his native language. Sasha was clearly beginning to get fed up with this process. Then, like some kind of holy miracle, viable sparks flew from the rocks and onto the grass. Sasha quickly dropped the rocks and began to tend to the baby flame. He barked at someone to get the fire pit ready for him to transfer the burning grass over. His hands were covered in small nicks from striking the rocks together and missing, and he really didn't want to have to start over again.