He resigned himself with a sigh but had he thought how quickly the pain passed his conscience would have hurt him again.

Now he felt much comfort where he sat; the night was really cold, bitingly cold, and it was a glorious fire.

As he sat before it and basked in its radiance he felt the glorious physical joy that must have thrilled some far-away primeval ancestor, as he hugged the coals in his cave after coming in from the winter storm.
Henry had the best place by the fire and a warrior who was sitting where his back was exposed to the wind moved over and shoved him away.

Henry without a word smote him in the face with such force that the man fell flat and Henry thrust him aside, resuming his original position.

The warrior rose to his feet and rubbed his bruised face, looking doubtfully at the boy who sat in such stolid silence, staring into the coals and paying no further attention to his opponent.