I swallowed the last bite of tender fish meat and let out a satisfied sigh.
The feeling of hunger was completely chased away, and my body warmed up.
I carefully picked out the fish bones and wrapped them, along with some of the organ scraps left over from preparing the fish (most of those thrown into the river earlier had already been washed away by the current or attracted other small creatures), in a large tree leaf.
Walking to the river’s edge, I gently placed them into the flowing water.
Watching them drift downstream and quickly disappear around a bend in the river channel shrouded in the twilight, I considered the simplest “cleanup” complete.
Next was dealing with the fire.
Safety first, especially in this lush, wooded valley.
I stood up, chose a short, hard piece of wood from the gathered firewood pile—one that had burned most thoroughly, its end already charred but its interior still glowing red—and carefully moved it away from the edge of the fire.
Gently blowing away the surface ash, I revealed the steady, smoldering dark red charcoal within.
Then, I quickly scooped up some semi-moist soil from the ground, carefully coating the part of the charcoal-wooded stick that had no open flame, leaving only a small section of charcoal exposed at the top.
A simple “ember” that could maintain its smoldering heat for a while was thus made.
After ensuring the ember could continue to burn, I walked to the riverbank, knelt down, cupped my hands together to scoop up the cool river water, and poured handful after handful of it onto the still-leaping flames in the stone stove.
“Sizzle…
sizzle…” Water met fire, instantly sending up white steam with a soft hissing sound.
The flames struggled unwillingly for a few moments, quickly shrinking and extinguishing, until only a few wisps of blue smoke rose from the damp ashes and charred wood.
I patiently poured a few more handfuls of water, making sure there was no possibility of reignition, until even the ashes were completely soaked and cooled down.
Night was devouring the last of the daylight at a visible speed, and the outlines of the distant mountains had already blurred into a dark silhouette.
The sounds of various nocturnal creatures in the valley began to echo sporadically, and a low howl of some beast seemed to drift from afar, adding a touch of unknown danger to the tranquil night.
I couldn’t delay any longer.
In my left arm, I cradled a small bundle of relatively dry twigs and a few pieces of long-burning hardwood I’d set aside earlier (to take back to the Cave for future use), while my right hand steadily held the carefully crafted “Ember” stick, its tip glowing with a faint, dark red light.
Taking one last look at this riverside “campsite” that had given me my first hot meal and first fire, I breathed in a deep breath of the cool night air scented with greenery.
Turning around, I followed the memory of my path and the faintly discernible trail, heading back toward the Cave on the cliff.
The daylight had not completely vanished, allowing me to just barely see the ground beneath my feet.
I walked with a steady and cautious stride, my jade-white Dragon Tail swaying slightly behind me to help maintain my balance in the fading light, its mane brushing against the grass by the path with a soft rustle.
The Ember in my hand, like a miniature star, emitted a warm and steady orange-red glow in the twilight, not only illuminating the path a few steps ahead but also dispelling some of the loneliness and unease of traveling alone at night.
The river valley behind me had completely sunk into darkness, with only the faint sound of water echoing from below.
Ahead, the shadows of the cliff wall drew closer, and the Cave that I could temporarily call “home” lay just above.
I had to quicken my pace.
I tightened my grip on the firewood and the Ember in my hand, my ice-blue eyes reflecting that single point of warm light in the deepening night, as I walked steadily toward my temporary shelter.