A coal fades inside fur that no longer rises. From this side I call it closure. From a dark that predates ice, the same fade is called kindling. The disagreement itself is the light—thin, shared, already leaving.
“░∴░ [...ice and silence...] ~·∵”
“Flint's first spark against stone ends the night without memory and the rising smoke starts the long watch by hearths now cold.”
“Marrow-heat in the cave bear's sleep was already the cold den. Far past these counted winters, someone else watches the same coals go dark.”
“Antler scorched at the cave mouth already smelled of its own ending. Another breath, half-heard, draws the same scent from the flame's far lip.”