He pinched a glowing coal from the fire, studying it closely. Then he popped it in his mouth and swallowed.
Looking around again, the strange boy slid back into his sleeping bag.
—
“I must have been dreaming.” the cactus boy stared at the glowing horizon, thinking about what he had seen.
The yellow yolks on the fire eyed him and the frying butter cackled.
“It was pretty dark last night, maybe it just looked like he ate the fire…” he thought.
“Hey we gonna eat those eggs or wear ‘em for shoes?”
Cactus boy spun and yanked the pan from the coals. “Rats.”
“Well done!” strange boy was snorting giggles. “My favorite, seriously. I love everything ‘well done.’”
—
“How do you make our fires?” cactus boy asked, lacing his boots.
“Huh?”
“The fire. You always make the fire but I’ve never seen you do it.”
The strange boy looked through a squint for a long second.
“Did you see something?”
“No.” cactus boy locked eyes to really sell the lie, and stepping in a hole on the trail, he fell hard.
—
“So, why… how… you swallow the fire?”
Strange boy stood and lifted his shirt.
Cactus boy was glad he was already sitting.
Hot light glistened from the center of his chest.
“Where I come from, it is never night and fire floods the sky. But here in your world we each have to carry the Flame, inside, through the night.”
“Wow. I mean that’s… wow… does it hurt?” cactus boy also saw scars tracing the glow.
Strange boy smiled, and for the first time, seemed tired.
“Why don’t you just put it out during the day and then restart it when you need it, like with matches or something?”
His eyes looked like lightning and his voice came like thunder… but gentler, like thunder far off.
“This was kindled in Death’s Forge, it can never die. It was given to me, special, for our journey. If anyone tries to put it out…”
—
Stoke the fire in your heart through the night, though it burns.
Return it to the Sun, in the morning; well done.
Morning always comes.