Sooner or later, the fire burns down to this—a constancy, a persistent glowing ember. The roaring blaze is the adolescent fire, tempestuous and needy. This is the steady burn, older, wiser, something you can rely on. Coals will sear a steak and brown bread and after the day is done, even as they fade, the dying flickers carry a promise. Five thousand years ago, Ötzi, the famed Iceman of the Alps, died in the snow. He carried a copper ax, a longbow of yew, and a small birch-bark ember pouch. Once it held a tiny coal, the last glowing bits of his very last fire, and the seed of a blaze he would never live to build.