And then the back of the burrow fell in, because of all the rain. It was almost pleasant to get out, then. It was better than listening to the grumbling about him not doing essential repairs. Oh, and there was the fire. You needed a fire at the burrow mouth, both for cooking and for keeping away night prowlers. Granny Morkie went to sleep one day and let it go out. Even she had the decency to be embarrassed.
When Masklin came back that night he looked at the heap of dead ashes for a long time and then stuck his spear in the ground and burst out laughing, and went on laughing until he started to cry. He couldn't face the rest of them. He had to go and sit outside where, presently, Grimma brought him a shellful of nettle tea. Cold nettle tea.
'They're all very upset about it,' she volunteered.
Masklin gave a hollow laugh. 'Oh, yes, I can tell,' he said, 'I've heard them "You ought to bring back another fag-end, boy, I'm right out of tobacco," and "We never have fish these days, you might find the time to go down to the river," and "Self, self, self, that's all you young people think about, in my day-" Grimma sighed. 'They do their best,' she said. 'It's just that they don't realize. There were hundreds of us when they were young.' 'It's going to take days to get that fire lit,' said Masklin. They had a spectacle lens; it needed a very sunny day to work.
He poked aimlessly in the mud by his feet.
'I've had enough,' he said quietly, 'I'm going to leave.! 'But we need you!' 'I need me, too. I mean, what kind of life is this?' 'But they'll die if you go away!' 'They'll die anyway,' said Masklin.