He was a clever caveman. The fire would keep the cold away. No predator would come close while it was still lit. He’d stored up all the wood he could find to stay warm.

It was a hard days work, made harder by the winter that he knew would soon catch up with him. The trees had lost their leaves, the caves and burrows had new residents and the earth above seemed empty. His footprints were the only ones for miles. He drew his furs closer while looking at how far back his trail seemed to lead.

Fire wasn’t the only thing that warmed him. The grassy plains and clear sky he’d seen made him feel the same way. But that was long ago in a distant past. The memory seemed to grow colder with every fire he lit. The sky above was dark and littered with rain clouds. All around him was white snow, nothing like the plains he knew.

Staring into his bonfire it was hard to explain. Why did he decide to walk the way of the nomad? The fire had lit up the dark cave of emptiness and  purposelessness the same way it lit up the night. He was smart. He felt the coldness inside. He lent in closer to reach the warmth. Ouch!