Fire

He was dripping with sweat from cutting 
up the fire-wood, but it was worth it. The fire crackled noisily as he lay thin strips of wood upon it. He rubbed his hands with the warmness of it all. It was such a beauty and he whistled softly to himself in admiration as it rose up high in the sky. Then he snuggled up under a wrath of leaves too tired to even breath. But when he woke up it was dark and the fire was out and he could smell roasted meat. Wisps of smoke came from underneath him and he screamed with pain.