called_lioness | (no subject)

"I most certainly do not," she laughs. "Though the taste isn't dissimilar. You'll like it, I think. Apples are practically required for camping since a trip when they were most all of what we had. That and bear meat."

Mary's eyes widen, at that.

"I did not know you could eat bears," she says, sounding impressed, and glances around at the woods surrounding them.

"Are there bears here?"

"You can eat many things. We'll get bear meat in the bar when we're back, if you'd like."

Lucy glances about as well.

"I doubt it. Not that we need worry about, at any rate, or Alanna would have said."

"I am not frightened of bears," says Mary, predictably.

"It is only good to know in case we must be prepared." She looks over at the campsite, and then back at Lucy.

Awkward beat.

"I do not know how to start a fire."

"I am certain you're not. I just thought I'd say it's not a thing to be wary of, likely, either," Lucy answers with a smile.

And then she holds out a hand to Mary. "Then it's past time you learned."

Mary takes Lucy's hand, glancing from her to the clearing and then back.

"It seems as if it would be a useful thing to know," she agrees - which is perhaps Mary's way of saying 'thank you for teaching me.'

"First we'll gather wood. See if you can find small twigs and dried pine needles."

Mary repossesses her hand and and moves off in search of these items, squinting down seriously at the ground.

After finding three sticks, which she clutches with intensity, she has the idea to hold up the hem of her pinafore and turn it into a sort of carrying bag.

For her part, Lucy gathers some larger branches and sticks of assorted sizes, forming a sort of layer of sticks, the smaller ones on the bottom and larger on the top, with the very largest logs off to the side.

Mary comes back over to the center and stands with a skirt full of pine needles, watching Lucy build.

"Should I put the needles on now?"

"Not exactly." She shows Mary the space under the sticks. "We're going to lay the needles and twigs there. The needles have oil in them, so they'll help the fire catch more quickly. We'll add the thicker branches and logs when the fire's burning well."

Mary nods, listening carefully as if committing the instructions to memory, and then gets down on her knees next to the fire to carefully put handfuls of needles into the space Lucy indicuated.

(Her stockings are going to be horrendously dirty.)

(Stockings can be cleaned.)

Lucy is smiling a great deal more than she realizes as she picks up flint and steel. "Have you ever used such before?"

Mary shakes her head.

"Martha always makes the fire."

Lucy takes Mary's hands in hers, wrapping them around the tools and holding them in place. "You strike the steel with the flint, you see. You must be careful, or you'll slice your knuckles. But you'll make sparks, like so."

She moves their hands once, sharply, and three sparks fall, though not on the tinder.

"I will be careful," Mary says, watching the sparks fall with wide, fascinated eyes.

"I want to try by myself now to see if I can do it."

"All right." She lets Mary's hands drop gently. "Just try to make a spark. Don't try to direct them into the fire yet."

Mary knocks the rocks together, with a great deal of force and determination.

There's a clanging sound. Other than that, nothing much happens.

"Why did it not work?" Mary demands, scowling.

"You hit them," Lucy says gently. "You need to drag the edge of the flint along the steel. I'll show you again if you like."

"No - I can do it," Mary says, tossing back her head, and attempts again, sliding the flint and steel together.

This time a tiny spark appears, and Mary bursts into a beaming smile. "There - see?"

Lucy's laugh is pleased. "I knew you could! And you did quite well. Would you let me help you start the fire itself? It's a wee bit trickier to direct the sparks."

"It will not hurt if the sparks go somewhere else," Mary protests. "And I want to do it myself."

Next time Lucy might not be there! One never knows.

Lucy considers her for a moment.

Because one never knows.

And then she says, "All right, Mary."

It takes about ten tries, with Mary growing visibly frustrated, before a spark lands on the fire; it takes another five before one catches enough to actually light.

But one does, eventually.

Lucy grins and settles behind Mary, arms wrapping her in a brief hug before letting go. (She can't quite help it.) "You did very, very well."