We are learning to make fire. The small group huddles together, attempting to keep warm. The freezing air tears at us, the howling gust bouncing off the cave walls. The cold is so severe I feel as if my whole body is frozen. The sky grows darker as furious flakes of snow whirl around us in anger. The snow hurts. It brushes against our cheeks, an icy pain seers across my face with each mark the snow makes. my hands. My hands, numb, use their last bit of strength to vigorously rub two sticks together. Finally, a spark ignites and a grey wisp of smoke snakes upward, filling the cave with the smell of pine. We have made fire.