Quiet Nights


The fire is a pleasure on nights that carry chill. Collecting firewood a necessary pleasure. I am surrounded by deep forest. Dry deadwood to create a lifetime of fires. Near is a pine forest. A strange pine forest. The air is thick there. As one approaches, it seems there is  an unseeable fence. I collect there as there is much to collect. A feeling of forbidden territory is felt here. A sense that it would rather you not be within. Perhaps it is the pine. Evergreens are known to drain one of energy. Perhaps it is the two nearby graves of era brothers war. Yet those still seem distant. It feels much older. For my people are new in these lands. Perhaps it is the twilight hour. This forest feels empty, yet so full. It feels as if it has been many things. It does not desire the perversion of ways. One must approach with a sacred tongue. Silence and dignity. Vardr feels of weariness within my circle. He remains half his distance closer, sniffing the earth and hearing the wind without stop, seeking to grasp what is around him. A feeling, that stands hair upon self or beast, is a feeling worth pursuing…


With enough fire collected, it is a quick stride home. My wife is enjoying green tea. I am in the mood for another cold beer.


The fire dances with many strange forms. It dances as the serpent rearing head, as fire dances unpredictable.

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