One ice-blue evening at camp, Irenka and Osanna set up camp far out in the fields outside of Icemelt. Irenka hacked down a small tree with her entrenching tool, more or less just to show off that she was good at it, and set up a nice warm campfire. Osanna set up the tent and church-keyed open the first beer, taking a long, loving drought as Irenka worked her flint and tinder, catching the kindling alight and getting the flame started in earnest. "Keep at it, almost there," Osanna said.
With a few flaps of her blanket the kindling caught, licks of fire pressing up through the pile of logs. "There we go," Irenka said. She took a seat on her bedroll next to Osanna and watched her campfire blossom. "Heck of a thing," she said.
"Hell. You can say hell." Osanna reached for another beer from her satchel (of beer) and punched two holes in the tin. "You ever have Black Bliss?"
"What's its vintage?" Irenka said.
Osanna laughed. "Ha ha,