Alan takes a deep breath, so clearly battling his pride and not wanting to admit that I might have skills he doesn’t – even if I am a shrimp. But eventually he exhales and tosses the flint at me. I barely catch it after it bounces off my chest.
“All right,” Luca says, turning to me with raised eyebrows. “What’s next?”
“Fire first,” I say, nodding. I give terse instructions, falling into a very pale imitation of my father, who taught us all of this stuff when we were very young. I mean, Jesse and Rafe have been going on big camping trips with dad and Uncle Roger for years, doing much more complicated stuff than this. But dad? He always made sure I could do the basics.
“Luca,” I say as I begin to gather dry brush, wood, and stones – both flat and round. “I want you to go see if you can f
