Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #34 — Celebration

Amy dropped the stick from her aching hands and sat back on the floor of the small cave. The tiny tendril of smoke dissipated faster than it had appeared. Kelvin could probably cook the snow hare from her body heat alone. At least that’d be a more reliable source of heat than her ill-fated attempt to start a fire.

Kelvin grabbed the stick and rubbed it between his hands, building friction between the stick and the flat piece of wood. “You can get the next fire. I’m too hungry to wait.” He gave her a pointed look.

Amy raised her middle finger. He’d bitched enough about her eating the damned cookie.

“Make yourself useful and close off the entrance with those branches.”

Make yourself useful! It was bad enough when her father used that phrase to let her know she just wasn’t enough — not in the same league as her slacker brothers. “Give me the fire drill.”

Kelvin sighed and let her take over. Her tender palms worked the stick, but she couldn’t keep up the speed needed.

Kelvin closed up the entrance and moved behind her. “You’re applying too much pressure. Here,” he wrapped his arms around her and covered her hands with his, “like this.”

The heat of his body distracted Amy from the pain in her hands. Once she had a feel for the drill, he sat back and watched her. Like magic, through the smoke, the ember appeared. She tipped it into the waiting nest of kindling and blew as she placed the fiery bundle into the steeple of twigs beside her.

A flame poked its tongue out between the twigs.

Amy spun to Kelvin, clapping in celebration like an over-enthusiastic cheerleader. Before she knew what she was doing, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips to hers. Heat engulfed her chest and spread south like wildfire.

Kelvin groaned as he deepened the kiss. His body stiffened, and without warning, he shoved her aside. In a blur, he dumped snow from the cave wall on the fire. Extinguishing her efforts.

“No!”

“Shut up. We’ve got company.”

Amy froze. Silence. In the distance, the high-pitched whine of a snowmobile closing in on them.