His huge form towering
high, he seized a fallen tree trunk, raised it above his head.
He met the oncoming horde with battering blows, growls more
fierce than that of beast. Quickly, leaving fallen comrades
behind, the wolves scattered.
Prometheus sat down, shivered as though cold.
"Why is there no fire? They would fear the fire."
Demo stared!
Under the fierce attack Prometheus had regained his will to
live, to fight!
"The fire you gave man is extinguished. He failed to keep its
flame burning, failed to protect it. He took it for granted, and
none would be its keeper.
"There is no fire!"
Prometheus lay down the great log, breathed deeply.
"I took from Vulcan's furnace, from the hottest flames, the
heart of fire. I gave it to man for his care and nurture, to
protect him from the creatures of the wild. I gave it to him to
protect him from the night, and those things that creep in the
darkness. And now he has let it die? What fools are these
mortals, to disdain a such a gift?"
"Man grows lazy and irresponsible. He thinks all things come
to him with no effort on his part. He values little those gifts
that he receives. At last he knows, now, what he has lost."
"In my own hand I carried the fiery coals. Look!"
He thrust out the palms of both hands, and Demo stared in the
dawning light of morning at the charred and blackened skin.
"Vulcan will not so easily be fooled again! Yet," Prometheus
mused, looking at Demo, "Perhaps it can be done.
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