The coals glow red hot, defying the cold and damp air around them. A spark, fleeting and bright, flashes in the dark expanse of the slumbering forest. The spark flashes again, and again, once more; shining brighter and lasting longer each time, until finally the brown leaves atop the coals curl inwards and crackle in misery as they take the final step into ashes. Cold hands that had created the spark sigh in relief but soon fall into unconsciousness.

The fire, now un-monitored, seems to laugh in ecstasy, as it flickers but does not go out, no matter how hard the wind blows. It stays loyal to the hands that had created it and burns bright and undiminished, until it inevitably grows bored of its tamed existence, and begins to expand. Catching unfortunate leaves abandoned by their parent trees into its embrace, the smoke grows higher and higher, a symbol to those who would heed it, as it curls into beautiful abstract lines.

 The flames themselves creep toward the forest-line until it arrives flashing in glee at the first trunk of wood. Unstoppable and unimaginably quick, it climbs atop the branches, then leaps to the next and then the next unprotected tree. The hands now sweltering, awake to find horror and scramble away.

Smoke conquering the skies, and flames conquering the Earth, the fire announces to the world its existence.