"Hobo packs are almost done guys," Enzo pokes at the tin foil wrapped masses baking against the coals, delicately pausing to turn each one over.
"Awesome. I'm starved," Mia sits back against the sled we parked near the fire-pit, extending her hands out to warm up in the heat waves that roll off the open flames.
"H-hey." Nathan smiles at me as he unloads the pile of newly collected firewood from his arms. With the fire roaring constantly, we've already had to rebuild our firewood stock twice.
"I don't know how you can still move, it's so cold." Since I've been so close to the fire, the snow on my pants and boots has officially melted through to my clothes underneath, and it has lead to an unstoppable, shivering impulse that I can't seem to fight off.
"A-ar-are yo-you ok-okay?" His eyebrows draw down, a mask of concern as he crouches down beside me. Without a word, he pulls me into his arms, letting me absorb whatever heat I can through the layers of fabric that separate us.
I feel bad for worrying him. Smiling as wide as I can muster, I nod in answer to his question. "Just not used to this," it's the best explanation I can offer.
"F-food w-wi-will he-help." He just his chin in the direction of the hobo packs Enzo is pulling out of the fire and piling onto a plate.
Mia pours everyone a cup of hot chocolate from the large thermos we brought, and almost as soon as the food is handed out we dig in.
I peel back the tinfoil carefully, having experience first hand how hot the steam that it lets loose can be.
The aroma that wafts up from the baked veggies and meat smells amazing; diced potato, garlic, and carrots bathed in the thick, fatty grease off the burger patty.
One packet is more than enough for me; I can't even finish the few pieces left behind, and I scrape them onto Nathan's second packet so it doesn't go to waste.
A comfortable silence floats over us as everyone finishes their food, and the forest seems to follow us by example; as if every waking creature has paused to let this moment seal itself in time, an imprint on the mundane string of memories we trail behind us.
I tilt my head back against Nathan's shoulder, watching the starlit sky above. It feels as if it's frozen, baring witness to the peace beneath it. And yet in a constant stream of motion at the same time; flickering, circling, providing the only evidence that this moment isn't a picture frozen in time, but a living fraction of infinity. That it, we, are alive.
As carefully as it was put together is as carefully as it shatters; broken by the fire as it crackles.
We clean up any remnants of dinner, and burn them in the fire to dispel any possibilities of unwanted visitors later on.
Matteo ushers us into the biggest tent, where we all fit if we sit lined along the edges, leaving the middle open for the stack of cards as we play Crazy 8 Count Down.
As the night lulls on, amidst jokes and laughs, stories being retold and new ones being created, I start to doze off on Nathan's shoulder, until I drop my cards on the floor at my feet.
My mind seems to haze over the details after that, until all that remains is a blur of images; Nathan's face, the night sky above his shoulder, the way the snow crackles as his flashlight sweeps over it- and then suddenly the sky is replaced with the neutral color of a tent ceiling.
When he takes off my boots, and my feet are met with the harsh cold of the outside air, it seems to snap me backing into consciousness; slowly the tent comes in to focus, as well as the sleeping bag I'm laying on.
YOU ARE READING
Love, Emma
Teen Fiction"E-Emma? It's okay y-you know. I-I'm used to i-i-it." "You shouldn't have to be, some people disgust me, the nerve of them." "I can't blame t-t-th-them, I m-mean l-l-l-look at m-me." He sounds so defeated, even though I can tell he's trying to hide...
