playing; Dear Arkensas daughter.

The blond watched them from the bench, their eyes glistening in the flickering light of the bonfire.

He decided to finally work up to courage and speak to them, sitting beside them on the log bench.

"I like your hair," He starts, his fingers absent mindedly tapping the wooden log "it reminds me of black smoke," He mumbled, glancing away and into the bonfires roaring flames.