only way to cook. She had never seen one, so she insisted on turning on the flames. Shaw was relieved for that. Starting the damn thing had never been an easy task for him, but soon enough, Poppy had a small flaming roaring in the stove, and it was hot enough to pan fry some burgers. The smell of cooking meat and burning wood was heavy, and it made him even hungrier.
It wasn’t until he had polished off a few burgers, potato salad, nearly a full bag of chips, and some coleslaw, that Shaw started to feel like himself again. Poppy ate just as much as him, and he had to admit, that he was impressed with the shifter appetite.
“I could go for something sweet right about now,” he said once they had cleared up all evidence of their meal.
Poppy laughed again and pointed to the counter where a bag of marshmallows and all of the other fixings to make s’mores were sitting, waiting for him. “I’m guessing you bought all of that? We can make a nice fire out back,” she said with hope in her voice. “It would be something to do,” she quickly added with a shrug.
They made their way out of the back of the small, square cabin, and settled around the fire pit.
“This is where my grandparents told me a lot of stories from when they were growing up. I used to get bored, I’m ashamed to say. I wish I would have taken the time to listen and memorize every single second.” Even he could hear the sadness in his voice.
He busied himself, trying to light the fire, but he was having a hell of a time. “This isn’t exactly a skill I practice often,” Shaw said with a self-deprecating smile. “I can’t exactly code a fire into existence.”
Poppy rolled her eyes, but she was openly grinning at him. “Don’t tell me that you never learned how to start a fire from your grandfather. I doubt he would have let you come out here without teaching you some of those bushman skills.”
“You’re right. He did teach me, but I was never particularly good at it. I also haven’t done it in a long time.” He took the lighter out of his pocket. “Which is why I brought this.”
It was a candle lighter, with a long black neck. He flicked it on and lit the paper and kindling. The flame was small, and it sputtered right after he gave a whoop of victory. Poppy laughed and held out her hand for the lighter. He reluctantly gave it over. Poppy knelt down on the ground and rearranged the wood. She made a small ball of paper and stuffed it into the triangular shape she had made with the logs.
It took less than a minute for the logs to start catching fire.
“I am impressed, Poppy. You are a woman of multiple talents.”
She gave a small bow. “Thanks. I watched a how-to video earlier to start the stove.”
He put a hand to his chest in faked hurt. “You didn’t trust my skill.”
Poppy rolled her eyes again, and he was starting to see the gesture for what it was. She was beginning to thaw toward him. Their easy manner and flirtatious ways were returning, but she was still reluctant. Now that his belly was full, he was definitely going to try and satiate another kind of hunger that was beginning to burn as bright as the fire deep inside of himself.
A long, thick log had been cut in two and placed as a form of bench by the large fire pit. Poppy sat down and extended her legs in front of her. Her toes were far enough from the fire to keep from being burned but close enough to heat up the rest of her body.
“This is nice. Quiet.”
“It is, yeah.”
“I can’t imagine that you would want to spend large amounts of time here, far away from anything that can be coded.”
“Yeah. It’s a little odd. There are no lights, but look at that view.” He craned his head back and looked up to the stars.
There were more than he could count, like grains of sand on a beach. It was beautiful and managed to make him feel small and connected, all at once. The moon was shining bright and high. He had the strangest urge to howl, loud and strong. But tigers didn’t howl, right? He shook his head and tried to forget the weird sensation sitting in