into the wilderness - h.s.

thirteen

{Time Machine - Ingrid Michelson}

They say you need three things to start a fire. Even if you had all those things, sometimes it is near impossible to start one. People struggle every day with the simple task of starting a fire, and yet some of the biggest destruction is caused by the fires. People have invented things to make starting fires easier for the average human being, yet we still insist on trying to start one by rubbing two sticks together. And it hardly ever works.

Anything can burn. Newspapers, chairs, and love. When love burns, tears are shed, and broken hearts are born, yet no one knows where they go. They are left to wallow in the feeling of loneliness and loss alone and in the dark. When broken hearts burn, they smell of salty tears, freshly drawn blood and burning flesh. It may all seem a little gory, but in reality, burning love is a gory, harsh thing.

And then maybe, sometimes the broken heart is found, the tears are whipped out, the blood is washed away, and the wound is healed. It takes a special person to fix a broken heart, especially one that has been broken and burned many times.

Starting a fire is like fixing a broken heart. Something new is created and there is something there for someone to take care of. Something there to nurture and tend to. Something that keeps growing. The broken pieces of the heart are growing back together, and eventually, with the help of the right person, it will come together again.

I sat there staring at the pile of sticks that Alisha had placed in front of my knees. I had no idea what to do. I had never attempted to start a fire before. And tonight I was on dinner duty.

I must have sat there for a good amount of time because when I looked up the next time I saw Harry standing there. He reached up, adjusted something in his ear, then looked down at me. I looked back at him with a sheepish smile.

"How do you feel about sandwiches for dinner?" I had to look way up to see his face. He squatted down next to me when he realized I was struggling.

"Having trouble with the fire, are we?" he asked with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know the first thing about fires."

He laughed. "Alright, I'll show you." He stood up and started walking away.

"Wha-?" the word was left at the tip of my tongue, but stopped when I realized he was too far away to hear me.

I watched him as he bent down to inspect something on the ground. He stood back up and walked a few feet to the left where he assumed his previous bent-at-the-waist position. I saw him reach down and pull something from the ground before straightening back up and walking back towards me.

"I thought you were going to show me how to start a fire?" I asked him when he was within hearing distance.

"I am," he replied with a grin.

"Then why did you walk away."

He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I didn't want to be around you."

I rolled my eyes and then focused on the item in his hand. It was a mess of dried grass and roots. He moved the sticks aside and placed the mess where the wood had once been.

"Harper, this is how you start a fire."

.

Anonymous.

The door clicked softly behind her. "They're gone." She grinned at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Now what?" he asked, his voice gruff and his eyes narrow.

"Now we wait."

Waiting is the most important part of the game. Wait for the right moment. One will reveal itself and you will feel it. You wait until you are told to move. And when you are told, you move.