Fern and Games
After a day of it, the joke was wearing thin. They had played I Spy during the trek. Options are limited in a New Zealand forest.
"I spy with my little eye something beginning with F," Timbo said whenever it was his go. It was always 'fern'.
They made camp in a clearing. Timbo dragged in a couple of sittable logs and padded them with fern fronds. "Ferniture," he said.
They got the fire going. Timbo dumped a load of fronds onto it, temporarily smothering the flames. The little green blades curled up and dissolved to smoke. "Fernace," he said.
It was a clear night. They sat around the fire, united in camaraderie and weariness. They gazed up at the starlit sky. Or, as Timbo called it, the "fernament".
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Credits
fiction by
Richard Newton
@irnewton
image by
Ad Hoc Fiction
©
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