The leaves hung low and dark against the fading light. In the middle of the clearing, smoke billowed from a pile of wood that was slightly too damp to catch.

“Blow on it,” Jay suggested.

“We need something to get it started,” Alistair said, “it’s not going to catch otherwise.”

Carai closed her eyes and leaned against the tree. They would get it going soon enough, they always did.

She smiled and sipped her honey wine. Rain or shine, the summer fire would always burn.

© Kari Fay

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