At the rim of the forest stood a birchbark wigwam. Inside there was a fire that had burned down to a few coals. An old man dressed in a wolfskin robe sat by the fire. His hair was white like frost and his face was wrinkled.
The old man took a stick from the heap beside him and put it on the fire. In the glare of the blaze his face looked as yellow as dried willow leaves.Wisps of smoke made shadows on the roof. Outside the wind howled.
Twilight and darkness came and still the old man sat. Before morning he had put his last stick on his arm and mumbled "And with it, so will I.