We all took turns poking the fire hoping it would do something. Hummer talked about the beautiful sounds that come from the sharp mountains ahead of us. He pulled out his sword and spoke of triumph and illusions. He swung wildly at the stars. Maker joined him. Maker attempted poetry, and it was wonderfully disastrous. I love the way they play off of each other. They have almost nothing in common, yet it's in that vastness where their relationship has blossomed. They both stuck their swords by the fire, killing the creature they conjured up in their story.
Dye and Wizard began an epic display of sword fighting. Their dance was spectacular and almost frightening. The impact of their blows shook the ground and hinted at panic. The outrageous grunts and noises they made ensured everyone that it was remarkable theater. They too thrust their swords into the fire. Ashes touched the sky, and everyone looked at me. I stood up and slowly plunged my sword into the fire. I searched for something dramatic, but the connection we all shared was too much for my humor. I looked at them and said, "I love you all so very very much." They gave the appropriate response, deafening silence.