Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 5 - ***REVISED***

Sunlight blasted through the windows within the room, illuminating the dust that circled above Breanne's bed in a slow dance. She shielded her eyes against the light and looked around, blinking a few times. She sighed, and after a few more minutes passed, forced herself to get up, and face the intimidating task of cleaning and setting up housekeeping. Once dressed and unpacked, she headed downstairs.

Now that it was daylight she could see every intricate detail of the mansion. The walls and floors were bare wood, and yet, appeared beautiful. The carvings and patterns imprinted in the beams holding up the ceiling and posts throughout the place were reminiscent of the posts she saw at the Port Jackson colony. Snuggling deeper into her black shawl, she glanced around and her eyes fell upon a hearth situated against the wall. She immediately approached it. How did one start a fire? She was ashamed to admit to herself that she had relied too heavily upon Becky.

On the floor, next to the hearth, was another piece of flint and a tool of steel. Hope sprang inside Breanne and she immediately picked them up. She did recall Becky striking such a tool against a jagged looking stone to start a fire. She held the loop of steel in one hand and the flint in the other looking around for something to burn. There wasn't a thing in sight. Breanne's eyes slowly scanned the room then stopped, focusing on the front door. Grass! Of course! I can gather grass and start a fire that way. She put the flint back on the floor and hurried to the door.

The blasting cold air and rain that stung her face almost made her slam the door immediately. What happened to the sun? Her shawl was certainly not sufficient enough to keep her warm. She frowned, realizing that she did not pack anything suitable for the cold weather. Focusing on the task at hand, she ran outside. Her shawl lifted into the air and flew behind her as if it were wings. The rain slapped her cheeks and the wind angrily whipped her hair as she quickly gathered grass. After she had collected a meager amount, she ran back inside and slammed the door. Her teeth chattered and hands trembled with the cold, as she placed the grass on the floor near the hearth.

Breanne fought the urge to run back upstairs to her bed, and sat down near the hearth.  Shivering, she grabbed the flint and brushed it together over the grass. Sparks flew, but nothing ignited. The grass is wet, she reasoned. I should probably dry it first. Her wet, trembling hands collected the grass, and she tried to rub it dry against her damp dress. When it finally felt dry to the touch, she tried again. Nothing. Breanne's eyebrows angrily creased. It was cold, and if it was the last thing she did, she would start a fire.

Breanne looked around for something, anything that she could use to help the grass ignite. Her eyes scanned the room again and finally, reluctantly, settled upon the piece of cloth smoothed out atop the table. She had tried to avoid using her precious handkerchief, which had been gifted to her from Becky. Now it seemed as if she had no choice, since there was nothing else to use. I can use it and it could give me time to run outside and find whatever else I can burn. If I am quick enough, it might even give me time to find some wood. Her mind made up, she grabbed the cloth and quickly sniffed as she carefully placed the white flower embroidered handkerchief inside of the hearth. Before she could change her mind, she placed the grass on top of it and grabbed the flint.

Before starting the fire, she paused. Shouldn't she make sure that the chimney was cleaned? I'll not risk burning my precious handkerchief only for it to be snuffed out because of a dirty chimney. She quickly removed it, along with the grass, placed them upon the table and grabbed the dirty looking broom that rested against the wall near the hearth.

Breanne stood before the hearth as she held the broom. It cannot be that difficult a task, can it? She had seen Becky clean their own chimney back at home in England. If she can do it, so can I. Breanne held the broom and lifted it to the chimney, poking in random areas.  Only a small amount of ash fluttered down to the floor. Breanne raised her brow skeptically. She seriously doubted that the chimney was clean, yet nothing else was coming out. It was a large hearth. She could probably fit inside of it. Yes, she thought, nodding to herself. It will surely get clean in that case. She climbed inside the hearth on her hands and knees and grabbed the broom. Lifting it up, she swept around the inside of the chimney, squinting and dodging the ashes that drifted to the bottom of the hearth.