the fire is kindling (3)

Fire has always been patient with me, even when nothing else was. It asks only for fuel and attention—a deal I’m more than willing to honor. Behind me, a branch snaps. My head jerks around, heart hammering.

Nothing but darkness and trees. Still, I feel it—that prickle at the back of my neck, the sense of being watched. I swallow hard and turn back to the flames. Focus. That’s what matters now.

The fire is kindling, and soon, it will be strong enough to keep whatever’s out there at bay. It started when we were kids, exploring these woods with the fearless arrogance only children possess.