He watches, thinking for a minute or two it's really touch and go, but she pulls it through. Good. Another one who won't freeze to death if worse comes to worst. He pulls his ballcap off and runs a hand back through plastered curls. "What happens if the lighter runs outta fuel? Or whatever you're wearin' gets torn off or left behind? It falls outta your pocket? I ain't sayin' don't carry one. It don't mean you'll be sorry you done this if it ever comes to that."

He stands and moves over toward the wood pile they've gathered, taking up some of the sticks and branches and setting them down near her. "Keep you a pile, but don't never leave it alone. You might come back to a burnt up campsite or even start a bigger fire 'n that."