Tanis's elven vision allowed him to see well in the darkness, and he busied himself with digging a shallow hole in the ground, where he tossed their packs and the carefully crafted silver-inlaid broadsword that Flint had forged and given him as a gift during their last night at the Inn of the Last Home. The broadsword reminded him vividly of the differences between the two dwarves- irascible old Flint Fireforge, tough and true as the metal he forged, and the excitable Clotnik, as changeable as the whirling designs he created with his juggling balls. Of course, a difference of nearly a century in their ages could account for some of that, Tanis thought.

No more than six or seven minutes had passed while Tanis buried everything, yet in that short time, the sky had gone vermilion and smoke had begun to choke the air. Tanis glanced at the closest hill to the north and saw the blaze sweep over its crest. Plants exploded into red, orange, and yellow from the heat of the blaze. Small animals dashed, panic-stricken, from the grasslands to the lake. The inferno was moving fast in the wind, gobbling up the tall grass in the meadow with insatiable hunger.

"Quick!" ordered Tanis. "Help me push that log into the water!"

"Where is it?" cried Clotnik in a panic. He suddenly broke into a coughing fit from the smoke. "I can't see it!" he finally managed to sputter. Acrid smoke and ash flew in clouds through the air. Fortunately, Tanis's elvensight allowed him to see the warm red glow cast by every living thing, although the aura that outlined Clotnik's stocky body blended increasingly with the growing heat. The half-elf hurried to his companion, who stood at the edge of the lake. Tanis ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic, dipped it into the water, then held it over Clotnik's mouth and nose. 'Tie it around your face," he called over the roar of the encroaching fire. "It'll help you breathe." Clotnik tied the wet cloth over his face while Tanis created his own mask from another piece of cloth.