dank purple night heavy with humidity dissipating by the calm pitpatpitpat pitterpattern on the leaves above, rotating owlhead and spritelight blinking beneath the will-o tree through air distortion from flames aflutter red orange in the stone pit, Emily breathfeeding oxygen as wisps of white smoke billow into blackness, Skye turns away coughing chhhck chhhCK Tara with flickering amethyst around her neck looking at me, but I can't speak, “Find more firewood?” she asks, sticks and twigs fed into the pit light Skye as he spins and sweeps his feet then begins to stomp and pick up the pitpatTIPTAP
Max wet and cold stands up and implores, “let’s get back to the Eco House before the deluge,” then turns into the trees and they follow footprints along the riverside until they reach the uphill trail and I try to follow but loose dirt gives way on each step, find root to grab onto but just a gnarled branch, looking up at Tara “hurry train’s a-coming” rrrrggggg step up one slip back two, sinking rrrRRRGGGG.
Turn back to the river and find Paul, “Can you help me gather straight limbs?” dried not rotted inside, twine together, thatch and patch to make cover and keep the kindle with TIPTAPTIPTAP picking up until a flash electric
ZZZ!
and count the seconds until
ggrrronntuonnthunn
times five for mach one miles in the distance and guess how long it could last…
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