Greeshakk struck the flint with the ancient spearhead, again and again, watching the sparks fly like falling stars in the night. They landed on his meager pile of firewood and set it ablaze. His slit nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and blew on the flames, fanning them with life-giving oxygen.
Fire was the truest, purest gift of the god Helexith. Helexith had given it to His children in order to grant them life, for without its light they could not see, and without its warmth they could not live. He had also given it to them so that they might destroy their enemies. For just as fire gave life, so too could it take life away.
Greeshakk reached his five-clawed hand – three fingers and two thumbs – into the fire and grasped one long stick of wood that was roaring mightily. Without hesitating, he turned the burning brand toward himself… and pressed the flames against his thigh.
He held it there for several seconds, willing his mind to ignore the pain… and th