The Fire Alone, again by the campfire she sits. It’s not like this always. Oftentimes before the light is suppressed by the darkness, a familiar soul comes to visit. But tonight the soul doesn’t come. Tonight she is left with the light of empty promise.More Like This
More wood on the fire.
The nights are longer now, with cold white blankets, provided by blank skies. Falling slowly, slowly down, self-weaving over the once lively landscapes. She didn’t dress appropriately to accept such a gift.
She feeds the fire and watches. Even with the logs, the flames still strain to wrap around itself, hissing at the falling snow as it steals the heat. She pokes at the fire with some twigs before offering it.
How much longer will the fire last?
She scans among her tools, choosing the ax for her weapon. The nearest tree, she has selected it. The increasing wind cannot stop her. Up the blade rises before hitting it’s mark. The tree doesn’t scream as she strik