Ichiro built the fire the way he does everything – messy but efficient, and a little too big.
The flames threw a circle of orange onto the snow. Sparks went up and hesitated in the wind like they were deciding whether to become stars. Boots and mugs and knees made a rough ring around the heat. Someone - probably Esen - had written TURN BACK in the snow with a heel and then, because it was funny, added a smiley face.
Hikari sat with her blanket like a hooded comet, notebook half-tucked away. Lynea had her fragments out, not sharp, just idly floating small and harmless. Obi sat cross-legged and tried to look wise. The effect was ruined by his hair, which looked like a very, very wild bush.
Keahi sharpened her sword with a patience that made the sound almost comforting. Arashi sprawled with an arm across his bandage and a grin across the rest of him.
