- Collect wood. Look for fallen branches, as dead wood burns better than live. Keep your eyes on the forest floor, and hope for a pocket of dry sticks somehow protected from the pattering rain. Never look back at camp. Never look at your future suitemates—at Hana from Chicago fuming with the tent poles, and Liza from Boston crouching by the river, examining a forked birch limb, her back soaked navy.
- Separate your collection into tinder, sticks, and branches. If needed, break the wood into footlong lengths. You’re five miles from the car. Five miles from a roof, five miles from heat, and more than two dozen from a gas station, from fire-starting logs. A freshman mistake, not bringing one, even if it was supposed to be sunny. So much for being a sophomore. When Liza and Hana snap sticks in silence, don’t apologize for the…
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