On a wintry night, a family of three was huddled together in their thatched hut. A thin male, who was also the head of the family, had his arms wrapped around his wife. They cuddled a young boy with black hair and greenish eyes between them, to shield him from the cold.
"Laozi, start a fire. We may not survive the night at this rate."
The wife spoke, her teeth chattering. The thin gown she was wearing barely provided any warmth. The case for her husband and their child was not any better. The hair on their body stood erect while they shivered from the chilly breeze.
The husband hesitated to start a fire. Their hut was in a field full of dried ears of corn, ready for harvest. The roof above them was made of grass and the walls from dried husk.
One spark was all it would take to start a fire that would engulf everything around them.
"Laozi, the child is young. If he catches a cold what will we do?"
