Stewing

I sat at the mouth of our cave leanding on the entrance wall, hugging my knees and listening to the mountain top wind rage against our boulder. The sky was at our doorstep, like an ocean seperating the Creature's cave and the rest of the world. It was like a blanket on the world, and I so desperatley wanted to go under it and let it smother me with it's warmth.
The Creature sat deep inside the womb of the cave, floating it seemed, on the island of light produced by the fire. He was cooking his kill of a mountain animal, rare to come so high up this rock and always hard to capture through the cold fog and loose gravel. The contents were being stewed with a twig, one of three we have found on this desolate mountain peak.
My stomach growled and pulled my thoughts inward, into the cave. I savored every drop of what my imagination came up with. We never ate all of what we caught, we saved half of every portion so we would have nutrition for the next day. Thats what the Creature said, and thats what I did. It's hard to imagine doing anything else.
I turned from our doormat of the sky, and looked at Him by His fire. He burned almost as fiercly, and I wondered what He would do when ready to descend onto the planet. What were His intentions, what was his drive? In his rare moments of speech, he would occasionally mention the Creator with such intensity that it was like he was growing and harboring the birth of a rival universe withing himself, seething with anticipation for the moment to burst. He looked like a firestorm ready to wipe clean the face of this new "earth", but a firestorm reluctant to scar anything. He didn't want anything damaged, and I don't know why fire would be reluctant to burn, but He held back, he held on to something that seemed like empathy.
I turned back to face the clouds below. I thought of Satan, the plague of my mind even so far away from him. What kind of dark hound would he unleash on a mortal who spurned his pride? The scar on my cheek still burns from his blashpemous touch and I don't think mind power will outdo the father of deciet a second time. God help me...God is gone.
clap
Stone pot on stone floor, the sound of a ready meal. The Creature stood and beckoned the man in. The Stew was ready.