Ciaran blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Everyone in the village knew about Eoghan’s stupid rule, and so he’d never been allowed anywhere near anyone else’s hearth. Brenna gestured toward a ring of stones where she’d gathered some driftwood and kindling and knelt to unwrap a bundle beside a pathetic pile of rags that must have served as her bed.
“All right.” Ciaran knelt beside the ring of stones and stared at the kindling. She had no flint or tinder. How did one set a fire without those? He wasn’t going to admit he didn’t know how to start a fire.
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