Peter watches the black stones until they stop. He walks over to them, bringing them back, and holds them out to her.
Sarah shakes her head, pulling her knees to her chest, and doesn’t look at him.
Peter shrugs. “Alright then, maybe I should try.” He strikes the flint a couple times.
On the third strike, a large flame bursts from his first spark. He stumbles back, looking down at it, eyes widening. A smirk runs over his face as he looks at Sarah. She glowers at him. His smirk fades.
Peter studies her, putting the flint in his pocket. “Are you feeling well?” Peter moves away from the growing fire and pokes it with a twig.
Sarah looks down. “Yes, I’m fine.” Turning, she sniffs, wiping the remaining tears from her face with both hands, and clears her throat.
Peter pokes the fire again,
