Wee Gremlin Campfire, Sunday Afternoon

[endsthegame]

The campfire had been comfortable enough the last time Ender had sat here, and it served its purpose enough the next time around. His notepad laid unused in his lap, his pen discarded somewhere on top of it. He was staring at the fire. He wondered if maybe this boredom was part of his atonement-- but then again, that was a ridiculous thought in and of itself.

He didn't know. He had marshmellows.

[ open campfire, wheee ]