#roasted marshmallows

The snow started falling earlier this week and by the time the week was over, a soft blanket of white covered the Earth. Jasper and I pulled out coasts tighter as we made our way to the fire pit at camp. We were lucky we found winter clothes before it started to snow. Even though it was freezing cold, the winter made the world feel magical. The towering trees, frosted with snow, stood silent and still, guarding us against the wind and hopefully the Grounders. 

Jasper and I had gone on a run earlier that day and managed to find a bag of marshmallows in an abandoned bunker. They looked fairly normal, which I’m not sure if that should scare us or not. We took them anyway and decided that we’d roast them like people used to when they lived on Earth. Jasper had collected some sticks and spent a good amount of time whittling them so we could use. He even told Monty about them and he excitedly joined us. We were the only three at the fire pit, since everyone else was inside. I had settled onto one of the logs and unwrapped the marshmallows. I smiled, feeling excited as I passed the boys their sticks. 

“Think we’ll get them golden brown without catching them on fire? I heard that’s the best way to eat them.” Jasper grinned, piercing a marshmallow. 

“It’s all about patience.” Monty said, holding his carefully over the fire. 

“A little patience and a lot of luck.” Jasper chimed in. Jasper and I sat side by side, while Monty sat on a log next to us. The heat of the fire was warming our faces as the cold nipped at our backs. Snowflakes floated down, dissolving into little bursts of steam when they kissed the flames. I watched the snow drift around us, mesmerized by the quiet beauty. Experiencing winter for the first time was both amazing and hard. It was freezing, but space was most definitely colder. 

After a few minutes, I leaned in, pulling my marshmallow from the fire. It was perfectly golden brown on the outside, and soft and gooey on the inside. I took a bite, closing my eyes as the warmth and sweetness filled my senses. Monty laughed as Jasper’s marshmallow caught fire and melted right off the stick. 

“See?” Monty laughed. 

“It’s all skill.” He took out his only slightly burnt marshmallow. I shook my head, giggling, and handed him another marshmallow. 

As we roasted, we talked quietly about what was possibly to come. The Grounders were after us, but with it being so cold I thought we’d be safe for a bit. We’d probably run out of food before the Grounders even thought about attacking. The stars began to peek through the clouds above, casting a dim silver light that make the snow sparkle around us. It was amazing to see. 

Eventually, the bag was almost empty and the fire had reduced to glowing embers, we sat in a comfortable silence that we haven’t since we were on the Ark. Jasper had his arm wrapped around me, pulling me close. He was talking with Monty, but I wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. I was just enjoying the quiet winter night under the blanket of stars and snow, it’s the first time this place has felt like home.

The fire crackled comfortingly. It’s heat faithfully battling against the cold night’s chill. Lucy still shivered and huddled further into the sweater she’d found a few weeks before.

The Ghoul had been fairly excited earlier, just before the sun had set, when he’d stumbled upon a bag of marshmallows in the shopping mart they’d decided to loot in.

The bag hadn’t even been opened. Tucked away on an abandoned shelf in the corner of the mart.

“Hey, sweetheart, would ya’ look at this?” He’d bent down to snag the bag. Swiveling on his heel to present it to her. An unusually bright smile adorning his radiation-torn face. It had made his eyes sparkle.

Lucy had felt her cheeks warm and she quickly looked away from him and to the bag. “What’d you find?”

“Only some of the most delicious bite-sized pieces of sugar, ever.” He looked so proud of himself and youthful in a way she doubted she’d see again. “I think we should find ourselves a place to stop for the night and start ourselves a fire, ‘fore it gets too cold. What you think?”

“Sounds good to me.” Lucy was internally relieved. She was sure he could clearly see how shaky her sore legs were. How much she had been shivering. The winter months were here and she had never realized just how cold it would be. She could even feel the bite of the air down deep to her bones.

It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences she had faced so far, since coming to the surface. Unlike many of the hardships living up here brought. She was thankful that they were usually temporary.

The cold never stopped. Not since the end of the October month.

It was a wonderful thing when, this night, Ghoul managed to find a place he liked before the hour was up. The man could be so stubborn and picky about their resting spots.

Once done with her side of the camp set-up list, Lucy sat down on a log hidden within their space and watched Ghoul prepare and start the fire.

The first lick of the flames sent soothing warmth through her. Causing her to close her eyes and sigh.

A creak of the wood made her look over to see Ghoul taking a seat next to her. The rough material of his cloak rubbing against the starchy texture of her sweater. He had in his hand a stick from off the ground. The opposite end of it was gently thrust into the fire for a minute, before he opened the marshmallow bag and stuffed one white fluffy piece onto the stick.

“Now this is what we, Cowpoke, call “roasting marshmallows”.” He said with a happy lilt to his voice. Though he continued to smile, his eyes held a tinge of something bittersweet. “I used to take my little girl on camping trips, where we would…”

Lucy smiled and leaned her head to rest on her crossed arms. She was glad that Cooper Howard had begun to feel comfortable enough to let her listen as he reminisced about his daughter, who he loved so much. Even hundreds of years later.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d made plenty of s’mores growing up in her Vault-tec crafted underground society. Those, too, were warm memories. Of sitting beside her baby brother and getting the chance to teach him how to craft his first s’more when he was little, getting to teach him campfire songs that their dad had taught her, and all the years of memories after that.

“Hold on a second! Are you actually saying that you’ve never had roasted marshmallows? Like ever?” Roy exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment as he gazed at the bewildered teenager slumped against the pillows on the bed. The room was filled with an almost palpable confusion, the air thick with the unspoken thrill of winter nights and crackling campfires that seemed worlds away from the present moment on the airship.

Amethio let out a casual shrug, his fingers absently tracing the chipped edge of his worn nail, a remnant of countless days spent in battle and training. “I didn’t have time for things like that before,” he muttered, a hint of regret lacing through his words like a fragile thread.

Across from him, Roy's lively spark dimmed, his bright eyes now clouded with a shadow of melancholy. He leaned forward slightly, concern etched on his face. “You did mention something like that before,” he replied, his voice gentle yet probing, as if trying to pry open a locked door to Amethio’s past gently.

Amethio nodded slowly, the weight of memories anchoring his gaze to the floor as his expression became somber. “If I wasn’t on a mission, then I was training,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile silence surrounding them. The very essence of those moments—filled with fierce dedication and the sacrifice of a carefree youth—pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“And it was like that for a long time?” Roy asked, pulling his legs up onto the bed. He tucked them beneath him, his posture a picture of attentive concern, and his gaze remained unwavering, searching for the truth hidden in the depths of Amethio’s eyes.

“Ever since I got my first Pokémon,” Amethio admitted, the softening of his voice barely rising above a whisper, tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. The air between them thickened with unspoken stories, each laden with echoes of ambition, longing, and the relentless pursuit of dreams that had shaped the man before him.

Roy fell into a thoughtful silence, his expression shifting as he appeared to be struck by a sudden idea. With an energetic burst, he sprang to his feet, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I know! You can try some now!” he declared enthusiastically, gripping Amethio’s wrist with an eager tug that pulled the startled boy to his feet.

“Wait just a second!” Amethio protested, digging in his heels as a look of confusion crossed his face. “How do you expect to find roasted marshmallows on the airship? I thought you needed a fire for that.”

A mischievous grin spread across Roy’s face, the playful excitement in his eyes serving as a striking contrast to the earlier worry from before. He pivoted on his heel, a whirlwind of energy. “Murdock.” He replied simply as if Amethio was supposed to know the plan without further explanation.

Amethio blinked, momentarily at a loss, but before he could voice another word of protest, Roy was already dragging him through the brightly lit halls toward the kitchen. As they reached their destination, Roy animatedly explained their scheme -that was the only word for it- to Murdock, his words tumbling over one another in his enthusiasm. After a brief exchange filled with laughter, Murdock happily permitted them to use the small camping stove, setting the stage for their impromptu roasting adventure.

Both boys sat on the edge of their seats, eyes fixated on Murdock as he meticulously prepared the camping stove. With a flourish, he distributed a long spoke to each of them, each crowned with a fluffy, white marshmallow that seemed to beckon their attention. After making sure everything was in place, Murdock retreated to a nearby chair, settling in as a watchful supervisor to the activity about to unfold.

Amethio’s eyes widened in sheer delight, a bright smile breaking across his face as he took a bite of the warm, gooey marshmallow. The texture was an extraordinary revelation—sticky yet smooth, it melted luxuriously in his mouth, wrapping around his tongue in a sweet embrace. Each bite released an explosion of sugary goodness that intertwined perfectly with the rich, velvety depths of chocolate, creating a symphony of flavor that delighted his taste buds and enveloped him in an oddly comforting bliss.

“Well?” Roy leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with excitement, the glint reflecting his eager anticipation. He practically vibrated in his seat, his energy palpable as he awaited Amethio's reaction, his enthusiasm infectious.

“It’s…good,” Amethio mumbled, cheeks stuffed full like a Skwovet's, the words barely escaping his lips, muffled by the soft marshmallow. He shifted slightly to his left, Roy’s presence strangely comforting as the younger boy leaned in even closer, his curiosity radiating like sunlight. Behind them, Murdock’s hearty laughter rang out, a rich, infectious sound that tugged at the corners of Amethio's mouth and brightened the atmosphere around them.