The rocky river bank made for poor hunting, which the female had realized in selecting the place to rest. So the grezzen nibbled a yearling amphibian that had strayed farther from the water than normal. The season had been dry, the water low, and the river’s residents had altered their habits accordingly. As the grezzen reclined, he physically eyed the humans below while he felt them. In the dusk, a yellow spark flickered between the two humans. It blossomed into a flickering orange and yellow pyramid from which smoke spiraled cloudward. The grezzen widened all three eyes and surprise caused him to grunt amphibian blood into his chin hair. Fire didn’t surprise him. He knew fire was a product of lightning, of which Dead End had plenty. He knew that lightning fires thinned and rejuvenated forests, and turned rain to steam that replenished the clouds. Fire was part of the natural balance of the world. The world needed fire, but grezzenkind otherwise did not. Grezzen moved easily during darkness, were never cold, and preferred their food at just-killed temperature.
