I took out my flint and steel, and struck them in the clay box of wood and kindling. My house was a burned-out hemlock tree, with a knothole burned out and a clay fireplace and chimney, with more knotholes whittled out for ventilation. The door was a particularly large knothole cut and burned bigger, at the base of the trunk, with a deer hide pegged over it at the top. I had a bed, it was a wooden frame with springy ash slats and a deer hide blanket, and a pillow of balled up animal skins. I had skins pegged to the walls forming pockets, and I stored nuts and berries there. Meat hung from the ceiling. I had a smoking rack in one corner, next to a stump I used as a chair. I had turtle shell bowls and whittled forks, as well as a candle made of a turtle shell with deer fat and a strip of hide as a wick. The hide hadn't been softened after tanning, so it was harder and burned lower. The whole room was five feet in diameter. The natural camoflauge of the deer hide door concealed the entrance, so the person in the cabin nearby knew nothing of my existense.