The night sky played with dark, thickened colors, and the camp slowly lost its bustle and chaos. The fire crackled quietly, slowly dying out, but someone was still awake. Two tired bodies, two tired minds that huddled on a log, warming their feet from the crisp, hot to an orange glow of wood, resting near the comfort of the fire.

Shoulder to shoulder, mingled breaths, and a slowing heartbeat in each other's presence. These two found their comfort together. This charming feeling of calm when they met eyes, and you saw how on his usually calm, thoughtful face the corners of his lips stretched upward, drawing a warm smile on his face.

Both were busy with some of their own affairs, but together. His hands firmly held a knife and a small block of wood. The metal surface with a slight shuffling sound passed over the fibers of the wood, cutting out an intricate figure. Yours were holding some book in your hands. Your hands were already mechanically sliding over the pages, with a certain methodicalness turning over one yellow page after another. Your eyes ran over the lines, but still could not let the information into your brain, clogged with other thoughts.

Soon, having given up even trying, your eyes began to watch with interest how large male hands held the handle of the knife, and with what care they cut off pieces of wood. Finally, Smith decided to stop tormenting your curious brain, and muttered, without being distracted from the matter -

"This is a bison." - he answered your silent question in a quiet, measured voice.