Gape’s Chronicles: Flickers from the Fire

Late at night, the forest beyond our little village comes alive with chirps and howls. I tended the fire while my mother prepared earthenware pots of porridge and stew. The bed of coals was almost hot enough to cook on, and only a few drips from the light shower outside penetrated the hay thatching overhead. Each droplet made a hiss as it hit the fire.