Vincent sat in the dark of the cave for what felt like hours. His leg was throbbing, and he did his best to ignore the pain, struggling to focus his thoughts on something else. The trouble with that was an apparent lack of anything nearby that could hold his attention.

Instead, he whistled idly to himself for a long while. When he tired of whistling, he lay there staring at the ceiling and eventually fell asleep. The brief respite was a mercy short-lived. His sleep quickly became a jumble of frustrated thoughts and half remembered nightmares.

He heard a sound that gave him a terrible fright and he awoke with a gasp.

"Easy there. It’s just me." Ezra dropped an arm full of firewood at his feet. From the looks of the pile this wasn’t his first trip.

"I was able to gather plenty of kindling and wood of varying sizes. What I gathered will make it easier to start and maintain a fire. And it should be more than enough to last the night."

He gathered up some of the kindling and made a tepee, then piled some dried pine needles underneath it. When he was satisfied with the quality of his creation, he pulled out his flint and steel and began to strike it.

"Looks like you got yourself some rest. How did you sleep?"

"Well, my leg is killing me. It definitely didn’t help with the quality of my sleep."

Ezra kept striking, not bothering to look up. Vincent cleared his throat.

"But... I am grateful for the chance to rest. Thank you for gathering the firewood."

Ezra lit the pine needles successfully and carefully blew on the fledgling fire to give it fuel. It roared to life, and he began to add sticks on top of the kindling.

"Don’t mention it" he said. Still concentrating on keeping their heat source alive.

After a while, he added increasingly larger pieces of wood onto the adolescent flame until it matured into a proper fire.

"I managed to wrangle up a couple squirrels. I know it ain’t much, but it's something at least."

Vincent wasn’t sure how to respond but he felt he should say something.

"I’m so hungry I’d practically eat dirt. The last thing I’m going to do is complain about a squirrel for dinner."

Vincent could see the hint of a smile cross Ezra’s face in the firelight. Then Ezra turned to Vincent.

"These squirrels aren’t going to cook themselves. We need to prep them and get them cooking as soon as possible."

Vincent wasn’t able to stand or walk very well, but he was still able to be of some assistance. Using some of the material that Ezra had collected, Vincent cobbled together a makeshift spit to skewer the squirrels. He skinned them and nursed them over the fire until they were juicy and fully cooked.

The meat was scarce. As a result, they ate slowly. Savoring every bite. It was less a meal and more a snack. Nevertheless, they were grateful to put warm food in their bellies.

When they were finished eating, they sat around the fire. Typically, they were more jovial, but considering everything they’d just endured, the conversation was more than a little strained.

They were left to their private thoughts for a time. Maybe for too long. Ezra had grown weary. He had held on for so long and now he had hit rock bottom.

"It’s not worth it, is it?" He said aloud.

"We gave up everything to come out here and now look at us. We were a hair’s width from death today."

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He nodded in Vincent’s direction. "You’re a cripple and there hasn’t been a single sign of gold anywhere. I’m starting to think we’ve been fooled. There is no gold out here. Nothing but tall tales for desperate fools to chase. We’ve searched under every rock, tree and branch in the whole state. Panned every river endlessly and for what? Nothing but dirt!" He shouted, standing abruptly.

He kicked the ground in front of him as he said it. Dust and pebbles skittered across the floor. For a moment Ezra paused. He could have sworn he saw a glint out of the corner of his eye. He looked around, studying the ground carefully.

He saw nothing. Vincent stared at him in bewilderment.

"What is it?"

Ezra scanned the floor for a moment longer, then brushed it away.

"Nothing. The fire was just playing tricks on me. Either that or some desperate delusion."

He sighed. "If we manage to make it back to camp alive, I think we should let go of this insanity and face reality. We’ll get your leg on the mend and head back East."

Vincent was stunned. "Just like that? We can’t just –"

"Maybe you can’t" Ezra said forcefully. "But I can. Whether you decide to come with me or not doesn’t matter. I’m heading back either way."

Vincent felt like he’d been slapped in the face. "What about our families? We gave up everything to come out here."

He paused. "They gave up everything. They put their faith in us to bring back hope. We can’t come back to them empty handed. I can’t live with that... and they’ll be devastated."

His eyes began to water, he blinked and turned away. Forcing the tears to stop before they could spill out onto his face.

Ezra stared into the fire, looking distant.

"The harsh truth is... their faith was misplaced. We failed. It’s over. Yes, it may be devastating to admit we were deceived, but they are hurting without us. The longer we wait, the more it will hurt when we return empty handed. Best we rid ourselves of false hope as soon as possible."

Vincent searched for some retort, but nothing came. He was too tired and broken to keep fighting. He’d never felt so hopeless. He was finally at the end of his rope. He needed his friend more than ever, but now things were different.

They had made it through so much together. So much in fact, that he honestly believed they could make it through anything. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe this is what finally did them in. He wondered if their friendship would ever be the same.

After some time, Ezra motioned toward Vincent's wound.

"How’s your leg?"

"Not too bad." He said it as if he were trying to convince himself.

Ezra looked doubtful. He approached and bent down next to Vincent.

"Let me have a look."

"No, it’s fine." Ezra ignored him and moved to inspect the wound.

He touched it gingerly. Vincent cried out, sucking in air through his teeth as he clenched his jaws to fight through the pain.

"I thought you said it was fine?"

"It is," he said slowly, trying to sound normal.

"Sure, it is." He leaned in to get a closer look.

"It definitely needs to be cleaned."

He grabbed his canteen and poured it over the wound. Vincent winced audibly.

"I wish I had some whiskey to pour on it. You've lost a lot of blood. We need to make sure you don't lose any more. We’ll just have to do the best we can and then wrap it up."

He took some linen out of his pack and cut it with his knife. He wrapped it around Vincent's torn flesh and tied it off.

"How’s that, too tight?"

"No, it’s fine."

Ezra gave him a look.

"Really, it’s fine."

"Okay, then. Let me know if I need to make any adjustments."

Vincent gave a weak nod.

"All right, well. You best get some more rest. Starting tomorrow, we’re going to need to make the journey back and you’re going to need all the strength you can get if we’re going to make it. Normally, I wouldn’t worry too much but having just been attacked by a bear and all, I think it would be wise if we took shifts."

Ezra motioned to himself.

"I’ll take the first shift and then when I get too tired to stay alert, I’ll wake you up and you can take over."

Vincent opened his mouth to protest but he knew he was too weak to be a reliable guard without more rest. He said nothing and lay down. Using his pack as a pillow.

Ezra prodded the flames. "I’ll keep the fire going and then you’ll be responsible when we switch."

"Okay," Vincent said hoarsely.

It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep.

Ezra sat staring at the fire and tending to it for a long while. He enjoyed the heat on his skin and the mesmerizing dance of the flames. He even enjoyed the smell of the smoke.

It occasionally burned his eyes, but he took the good with the bad. He felt himself starting to doze off. He thought about waking Vincent to take over but as he watched Vincent sleeping, he took pity on him.

He was starting to look sickly pale and Ezra was beginning to worry that he would bleed out during the night. But that was only part of it. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he could really trust Vincent to keep watch. Especially in his condition.

I can keep going for another hour, he told himself.

He had the feeling he should get up and check Vincent's wound again, but he was too tired. He decided he'd wait a bit longer.

He listened to the soft crackling of the fire. It seemed almost as if it were humming. He began to hum along with it. A deep sense of calm washed over him.

He fell asleep....