The fire was dying. Tah lowered himself flat on the ground and put his lips close to the wet underbrush. He sucked in a deep smell of the ashes and then puffed out a long strong breath. As he found the rhythm of breathing, in the dead heat and blowing out his own life air, his hands sprinkled in bits of bark and leaves he had gathered from under the rain soaked matiting. It was not time for a blaze. The wood he had under a wide spruce branch needed to dry and he did not have any meat to roast. But to let the flame die was to add time on his next heating. Keep it burning always was a simple enough lesson learned.
Even alone, out on his hunt, he knew he would need the light and the heat later. He would need the flames to warm his cold bloody hands and the light to guide his cuts. He was going to kill a great horn. He had no doubts of that. His star said so. He had spent the last circles of the bright light in the sky tracking the marks left by the animal that would feed and cover him. But this was not just a kill. This was the great horn. With that he could go back to his clan and chose his woman. Tah could make his way by the big fire. Yes, with the horn his strength will be increased. He will drink the blood and gain the powers.
Tah had been thinking of the animal and almost didn’t notice strands of his hair too close to the embers. They began to sizzle. Quick his hand yanked at his hair, sliced the thick knots with the tip of his spear and tossed them into the new small flame. The long auburn clump of hair sparked. It was just what was needed to make the coals flame. With the hair from one side gone to the fire, Tah pressed his hand to the ashes of the past heat. Fingers dipped in the dark remains he pressed them on the side of this face that now lacked a large bunch of hair.
Tah scooted back. He watched the flame. His brown eyes larger than most in his cave opened encouraging the burn. Tah’s wide face, high cheeks, pressed tight nose, and prominent jaw was now smudged across his cheek with ashes. Hair that had been longer than his thick shoulders now was cut close to that sharp jaw on one side.
As soon as the fire caught Tah began to place large logs around it and mounded the brush and dirt along side of the logs. Large hands built a hump around the fire wanting it to burn but just slowly. Simmer was a word he did not know or use. To him it was to cover the fire. It needed on end open or it would stop. But Tah knew he could leave this mound and come back to red hot coals that he could breath to fire again.
Tah picked up a spear, sharp black stone point he had worked on for seasons wedged and tied into the long hard wood. He was close to the great horn. Prints in the mud told him so. His covered feet in skins from his manhood kill, silently moved back from the mound. He wore no shirt over his broad chest. He would cover that with the skin he now sought. As an after thought he reached back toward the small opening of his covered fire and smeared his hand in the dirt and ash. He wiped quickly over his chest covering more of his scent with the power of a spent fire. His hand stopped at the edge of his deerskin pants that tied on his hips with a braided leather strap.
Tah stood tall and smelled. His nose high in the ar to catch the way of the wind. His star in the sky pointed the direction last dark spell. Tah was ready. He spun away from the covered fire and stepped through the old needled tree forest.