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The trees look like people, she thought.

Mya loved nature.

She loved nature. She loved walking through the woods.

She and their inhabitants were at a peaceful agreement, she felt.

Towards the other, neither held ill will.

And the trails and hills, the rivers and trees were there only as her guide to

landmark the coordination of Earth with beautiful deformity. A few hours ago Maya loved nature but now the sun was gone. Now nature stood at odds, the tree line like cover, but not for her, for whatever could be watching.

The trees look like people, she thought.

O'O! trees look like people, she thought.

O'O shoot!

Unlike Maya, Matt hated nature.

Oh, stupid, sparks.

Where he could not force his hand, he was forced to brood.

Matt had little command over anything and less of their fire, though he tried to prove otherwise.

For the past hour he had been coddling his pet embers, which now and then made unprovoked

swights at his hands.

The feral coals had a death wish.

Are you ever going to get a fire going?

I have a fire going.

It's just wet.

...