For Layla, but anyone else can come join in on the festivities. (:
The wood cricked and popped. Embers of gold shot up with every prod from the rusty ski stick. The sandy ground was littered with dying orange soot. Several dull, large stones created a rough firepit, in which several thick logs rested. From these logs, the fire grew, strong and warm.
The sun had just set. On the western horizon, hues of pink and orange could still be seen. They colored the sky above the ocean, and even colored the ocean. The dark waves, tipped with foam, glowed ever so slightly in the lingering light. It was a beautiful night, with a thin crescent moon adorning the sky. Amos peered up at it, and admired it.
He sat on a decaying, waterlogged tree trunk at the top of the beach. His leather bag rested by his feet, containing a tapped up plastic bag of marshmellows, a zipblock bag of rabbit meat, several sticks, and his harmonica. In other words, nearly everything one needed for the perfect campfire. There was just one thing that Amos was missing.
Others, to join him.
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