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Show hanging, nobhing before or afber, onLy bhe bhin Line of fLame extending from his fingers to bhe dead wood beyond. The fLame cabches on one twig, sputters out as the heat shoots upward, then catches again, and again. He puLLs more twigs from a branch and pLaces them where the flame is strongest, Letting the f i r e choose ibs own course, searching bhrough bhe framework of bwigs for the best route to brightness and heat. He begins to piLe on Larger twigs, then small s t i c k s . The initiaL twigs begin to crumbLe as the structure is consumed, no Longer cabin-Like but pyramidaL, confused but growing, the apex of which is not wood, but Licking, orange-red fLame. SLowLy the f i r e grows, and with i t Rene, stiLL c i r d e d in a position between earth and waber, his shadow growing, flickering, refLecbing oub across bhe snow, bhe wood p i l e , up inbo bhe branches of bhe brees, bhe frosb's fire bLazing in bhis momenb bebween Lighb and shadow. i t caughb bhe sun gLancing. saiLing high my knife richard creeping in the warm bLown back grass no richard no my knife get away from me he said his arm drew back farther farbher bhen he Leb ib go i saw ib saiLing ib was Like a bird caughb forever in bhe silvered brusswork of bhe sky bhen falling faLLing into the pond the c i r d e s of Light concentric moving oubward from bhe cenber do you see bhem fabher bhe c i r d e s are moving oub from bhe cenber my knife bhen suddenly Laughter not just richard's either higher mixing with his behind me Lisa what you too she was Laughing and words too what do you want that stupid knife for rene she said don't forget it was a gift from a crazy man and then i t was aLL hot around me i couLdn't geb oub richard and Lisa Laughing bhe pond stiLL rippLing outward throbbing Like my bLood trying to get out but with no chance because i t was there too mixed with richards and Lisas but not conning Led only haLf the Line was there the Line from mother f a t h e r s bLoofl running out onLy through me Like a stick barren and unconnected The f i r e has caught now and he notices that the wind is down and shifting. "The storm i s Letting up," he thinks. He stares at his piLe of dead branches. There is nob much wood. He WiLL have bo keep the f i r e smaLL. And realizing this he f i n a l l y feeLs to be setbLing into position. I t is as though the bubbLe of a i r he is suspended in has taken on a sLow Leak and he feeLs himseLf gently rocking back and forth Like a piece of paper floating fLat to the ground, the quiet hissing of a i r giving way in susurrous acquiescence, untiL he can feel the soft and forming mud on bhe bobtom of the river moving around him as he |