Chapter 10: The Fire Thief

"Hold it! Everyone hold on, damn it!"

Seraya cracked a thick branch against the stone floor, shouting over the rising din. Several women flinched, and one hunter jerked her hand back so fast she nearly hit her neighbor in the nose with a chunk of raw meat.

A hush fell over the hearth.

The cave dwellers stared at Seraya in utter confusion. She had just invited them to the fire a second ago!

Now she was brandishing a stick, looking ready to chase them all back to their beds.

One older woman raised her skewer hesitantly.

"Warrior... you said we could roast our meat."

Seraya looked at the stick in the woman's hand, then at the nearly bare patch of ground where Niva’s pile of firewood had rested moments before.

"Roast meat, yes! Not steal all the firewood for skewers!" She jabbed the tip of the stick toward the flames. "What am I supposed to feed the fire with? My own leg?!"

The women exchanged glances, looking down at the branches clutched tightly in their hands.

Seraya blew out a heavy breath.

"If you want to eat roasted meat, bring wood. Dry wood. A few sticks for skewers, and the rest to feed the fire. The flames aren't going to sit here till morning out of politeness."

Silence hung for a beat.

Then almost all of them scrambled up at once.

Feet shuffled, leather wraps rustled, and hurried footsteps echoed through the cavern. Women set their meat onto broad leaves and dashed for the exit as eagerly as if Seraya had just promised an extra dinner for every stick brought in.

Niva backed away from the path, shielding her roast from being bumped.

Seraya watched them go, her mouth slightly agape.

Look at that.

Things could get done here without a fight after all.

Only Raska stayed put.

She sat against the wall with a sullen scowl, pretending the commotion was beneath her notice. Her tufted lynx ears twitched at every sizzle, however, and her eyes kept drifting toward the browning meat.

Seraya noticed, but had no intention of coddling her.

If she wants to starve, let her.

Maybe her pride will fill her belly.

She crouched by the hearth again and adjusted the sticks. As she leaned forward, the stretched collar of her shirt slipped a bit too low once more.

Seraya yanked the cloth back over her shoulder, muttering a choice curse about the quality of modern clothing.

Niva quietly handed back the set-aside skewer.

"Your meat."

"Thanks, sister. Another minute and I would've forgotten I wanted to eat too."

Barely ten minutes passed before calls drifted in from outside.

The thirteen women who had gone for firewood returned laden with bundles so massive that several could scarcely see past their noses. Dry branches jutted out, scraping the stone walls and snagging on the horns of the warriors ahead.

Seraya slowly lowered her skewer.

Holy shit.

I said bring some wood.

Some.

Instead, they apparently decided to haul half the forest inside.

Funniest of all, that wasn't the end of it.

More women filed in behind the gatherers. Then more. Curious faces, animal ears, horns, and raised chins clustered around the entrance.

Someone shoved forward to glimpse the fire, someone whispered excitedly, and another pulled her companion by the hand.

Soon, fifty or sixty people were crowding the cave.

Every single one stared at the flames.

Seraya turned to Niva.

"Sister... did they go for wood or the entire tribe?"

The girl covered her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.

An older woman Seraya didn't recognize stepped out from the throng. She held a modest portion of raw meat, her face a mix of hope and apprehension.

"Warrior... may we share in the Holy Fire as well?"

Seraya looked at her, then at the crowd behind her.

"You can. Just bring your own wood."

An eruption of cheer answered her, so loud she flinched.

Women spun toward the mouth of the cave, calling out and scrambling for fuel. A bottleneck formed at the narrow passage when two tall futa tried pushing through at once, catching a bundle of brush on someone's tail.

"One at a time, dammit!" Seraya called out. "The fire isn't going anywhere!"

None of them wanted to take that chance, apparently.

When they returned, piles of wood covered a good chunk of the open floor. To make matters worse, they brought along several more curious folk from neighboring caves.

Seraya realized that unless she took charge immediately, she'd be shoved right into the hearth.

Six or seven people could sit comfortably around one fire pit. The rest pressed from behind, holding skewers over other people's shoulders, fighting for an inch of space.

"All right, move the wood back from the flames! Over there, against the wall!" she ordered, pointing to a bare stretch of stone. "And we're making more fires. Not all of you crowd here!"

With the help of Niva's mothers and a few warriors, she marked out additional spots across the wider mouth of the cave on bare rock, well clear of the bedding. She refused to let fires spread deeper into the cavern.

Then they carried burning brands over, splitting the fire with care.

Soon, five small fires were crackling away.

Smoke drifted out into the open air by the entrance, and warm light crept across the uneven walls, picking out hides, weathered faces, and shining eyes from the shadows.

The cave buzzed with conversation.

Women laughed, called back and forth, and proudly showed off increasingly charred cuts.

Their cooking skills were abysmal. One thrust her meat directly into the licking flames, another held hers so high she might as well have waved it over her head, and a few portions already looked like charcoal briquettes.

Yet none of that dampened their joy in the slightest.

Seraya sat beside Niva, turning her own roast and tossing out pointers from time to time:

"Lower... Not that low! Pull it out of the flame or you'll eat straight soot!"

Each time, they adjusted their grip without complaint.

Damn.

This morning I was riding a bicycle, and now I'm running a barbecue clinic for a prehistoric tribe.

Suddenly, a taunting voice rang out from the next fire over:

"Raska! What are you doing here?"

Seraya turned her head.

The horned futa stood near the flames with a piece of raw meat skewered on a stick. She must have crept up while everyone was busy lighting the other fires.

Now she stood frozen, color rushing to her cheeks.

Sitting opposite her was a young hunter holding a finished roast. She wore a grin so wide that Seraya knew immediately she wasn't about to let this slide.

"Didn't you say this was Evil Fire? Thought you said nobody could cook on it?"

Raska stiffened her neck.

"Who said I'm cooking?! I'm just checking if this meat can even be prepared!"

The hunter held up her skewer.

"It can. Watch."

She tore off a generous bite and chewed with exaggerated relish. Closing her eyes, she let out a loud sigh and licked a drop of rendered fat from her lower lip.

"Mmm... Really good."

Raska’s gaze locked onto the roast.

Her throat bobbed.

"Is it? I don't believe you," she muttered. "Let me try."

A brief silence settled around the pit.

Then the hunter bared her teeth in a grin.

"Thought it was supposed to make us sick. Changed your mind that fast?"

The women burst out laughing.

Niva snorted and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. Seraya couldn't hold it back either.

A short laugh escaped her before she had time to consider how it would look.

Raska caught the sound and whipped her head around.

Her eyes locked on Seraya sitting beside Niva, her face hardening with humiliation.

Seraya saw the shift clearly.

The horned futa wasn't looking at the laughing crowd anymore. She looked only at the two of them.

At the stranger who had arrived a few hours ago, and at the girl whose attention she had chased so stubbornly.

"Choke on it, then!" she spat, hurling her skewer to the ground. "I don't need your meat!"

She spun and marched toward the exit, shoving past seated women, nearly snagging her horn on one bowed head before vanishing around the rock bend.

Seraya's laughter died down.

She looked at the abandoned piece of meat, feeling a mild twinge of awkwardness.

"Should we call her back?" she asked under her breath.

Niva turned her skewer.

"No need. She always picks on people. It won't hurt her to hear a hard word for once."

Several women seated nearby nodded in agreement.

One scoffed, another shook her head, as if Raska's tantrum surprised no one.

Seraya closed her mouth.

Fair enough.

Apparently the horned brat had been working on her reputation a lot longer than just this evening.

Seraya wasn't about to chase after her with dinner and beg her to stop pouting.

She turned back to the fire.

Meanwhile, Raska stopped a few paces outside the entrance.

The cool night air hit her flushed face, offering no relief. Laughter, crackling wood, and excited chatter still drifted out from the cave.

And under it all hung the cursed smell of roasted meat.

Her fists clenched tight.

She had never been humiliated like that in front of Niva before.

That outsider had stepped out of nowhere, put on a grand show, and was now lounging like royalty, soaking up stares, thanks, and smiles as if she had always belonged to Emberfrost!

Raska kicked a stone from her path.

"Fine," she ground out. "If I don't eat, none of you will either."

She turned and set off across the valley, heading straight for the cave where the elders gathered.

Inside, an entirely different calm reigned.

Five women sat around a tended hearth. Their cuts of meat roasted slowly, and the stone floor around the fire had been swept clean of leaves, bones, and scraps. Neatly stacked pelts lined the walls.

Morra turned her skewer and looked across at Selka.

She was a massive futa with a broad torso and thick, heavily muscled arms. Bear ears twitched as she dipped her head, her goat horns casting twin shadows against the stone.

"What do you make of that warrior Niva brought in?" she asked. "She calmed the beast right before our eyes. More than a few of us would have struggled with that in our youth."

Selka twisted her mouth.

Though lean and wiry next to Morra, roped muscle corded her bare forearms. Fox ears pinned back slightly, and a reptilian tail scraped the stone.

"You're comparing her to us?"

"I only said she has skill."

"She had luck," Selka scoffed. "And you soften too easily, as usual. She crossed the Obsidian Maw, and now we're expected to answer for her stunts."

Morra parted her lips, but Selka pressed on:

"Just let her try causing trouble. I'll personally see her thrown from the valley."

Before Morra could answer, an urgent voice carried from the entrance:

"Elders! It's me, Raska! It's urgent!"

Every head turned.

The three other women glanced toward Morra and Selka, waiting to see who would speak first.

Selka frowned.

"Raska? Enter."

The horned futa stepped to the fire with an expression so humble it was hard to recognize the person who had been shouting across a cave moments ago.

She knelt, bowed her head, and raised open palms in respect.

"Elders."

"Speak," Selka commanded. "What happened?"

Raska glanced at the browned meat in Selka's hand and swallowed unbidden. Then she leaned closer.

"The outsider... Seraya. She uses the Holy Fire without permission."

A heavy silence fell over the cave as Morra slowly lowered her skewer.

"What did you say?"

"She lit a fire in our cave. She is roasting meat. And letting the others do it too."

The women exchanged looks.

"Think about what you're saying, Raska," Morra said. "Where would she get fire?"

Selka held up a hand, silencing her.

"Let her speak."

Raska seized the opening.

She laid out the scene: the fire, the gathering women, the meat skewered on sticks. She described the awe of the dwellers, the newcomers flooding in from neighboring caves, and Seraya barking orders as if she owned the place.

Not a word did she mention about the little tool in her hand.

"She must have stolen the fire from Vaelira," she concluded firmly. "The Holy Fire belongs to the tribe. Any stray outsider who wanders into the valley cannot just take it."

Selka's face hardened.

"We took her in despite the threat of the Obsidian Maw, and she breaks our laws on the first night?"

Raska nodded vigorously.

"Exactly! And worse, she was saying..."

She cut herself off mid-sentence on purpose.

Selka pinned her with a glare.

"Saying what?"

Raska drew her shoulders in, feigning sudden reluctance.

"I dare not repeat it."

"Speak!"

"She said that if the elders can use fire, so can she. And... she was telling the others to call her an elder."

Morra frowned.

Raska didn't look her way, keeping her eyes glued to Selka, weighing every word.

"She has no respect for you. She acts as if she can already command the entire tribe."

Selka bolted to her feet.

Her reptilian tail lashed against the stone, the Crimson Mark on the right side of her face tightening as her cheek twisted in fury.

"Insolent wretch!" she snarled. "She steals our fire and tries to take our seats?!"

The other three elders rose as well.

"This ends now."

"Let us go."

Morra set her meat aside and reached out a hand.

"Wait. We must find out what truly happened first."

Selka snapped her head around.

"You heard."

"I heard an accusation," Morra replied. "What if they know how to make fire where she comes from? That doesn't make her a thief."

Raska leaned in at once.

"Elder, even if her people know such a miracle, could an ordinary warrior command it?"

"Perhaps she is a shaman."

"A shaman?" Raska spread her hands in disbelief. "Then why wander the forest alone? Why flee from the Obsidian Maw instead of returning to her own people? Maybe they cast her out for her crimes!"

The girl grew bolder with each word.

Every sentence made it sound like she had personally witnessed the outsider's sins, even though an hour ago she hadn't known a single thing about her.

Selka waved a hand.

"Enough. Raska is right. If you refuse to come, Morra, stay. We will handle it."

Morra looked at the others, but none of the women sat back down.

She sighed and rose to her feet.

"I will come. But we hear her out first."

Selka offered no answer, striding toward the entrance instead, the others trailing in her wake.

Raska scrambled up and fell in behind them, matching the elders' pace with a show of obedience she had sorely lacked before.

The elders didn't have to search long.

Warm light spilling across the stones outside, a hum of voices, and the aroma of roasted meat marked the cave.

Selka paused for a heartbeat.

Her fox ears pulled back as laughter echoed from within.

"She really did it," she ground out. "And she's letting everyone use the fire."

Morra grew grave as well, the scale of the commotion clearly exceeding what she had anticipated.

"Let us go in."

Moments later, the elders crossed the threshold.

Five fires flickered across the illuminated cavern, dozens of women crowding around them. Some turned skewers, others ate, and more leaned over the coals comparing their cuts with their neighbors'.

Chatter bounced off the vaulted stone.

No one noticed the elders at first.

Raska stole a glance at Selka's face. The elder's fury was everything she had hoped for. Stepping forward, she cleared her throat and barked:

"Quiet! The elders are here!"

A few heads turned, but most of the women kept talking.

Raska filled her lungs and yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Quiet down! The elders!"

Only on the third try did the shout cut through the crowd.

Conversations died out one by one.

Someone lowered her skewer in haste. Another tucked her meat behind her back, as if that pathetic gesture could conceal everything in the cave.

One woman dropped her roast, watching it roll across the stones.

Niva looked up at the shout.

Sitting beside her with her own skewer, Seraya saw the faces stiffen first. Only then did she look toward the entrance.

Five elders stood with grim faces. And behind them, Raska.

Of fucking course.

Selka took a step forward. She surveyed the fire pits, the meat in the women's hands, and their bowed heads.

Then she spoke in a voice so cold that all the previous warmth felt like it belonged to another world.

"Who stole the Holy Fire? Step forward."

A nervous ripple ran through the crowd.

The women drew back.

One by one, they shifted on their knees, gathered their skewers, and parted, leaving an open lane of bare stone between the elders and the nearest fire.

At the end of it sat Seraya.

Roasted meat in hand, and an increasingly sour look on her face.