Devonne Brown

Astrid cast a circle in the forest, big enough to hold the three oaks that had grown for three hundred thirty-three years, big enough that the creek ran through it, big enough to hold the waterfall. The trees would make a torch, a sacrifice, for Hephaestus, the Greek fire god, deformed and unloved. They’d light up the sky and bring the quiet end to the danger of the yammering wildfire.  

“Soak this rag in gasoline so we can light this candle,” said Astrid. 

Squatch scratched himself and gave her the stink eye. “No,” he said. “I’ll make a firewall around everything, a sacred circle. Your idea will get us killed, you stupid cow. We use the circle as a firewall. There’s no appeasing the fire god, Hephaestus’ll turn you into a cinder for fun.”

“Can we at least call him Vulcan?” Astrid asked. She whined when she didn’t get her way.

“No.”

How dare he tell her no. Who did he think he was, Forest Ranger Roger? He was ten feet tall and hairy is what he was. Squatch stunk like he hadn’t been crawdad fishing in months. He sure needed to go let the stink wash off him. Astrid was aghast. She’d been telling people what to do for years, how dare he.

“Oh, shut your mouth and help me get this circle finished. This will build an oasis in the fire. How do you think I’ve survived for so long, honey?”asked Squatch. He did the Groucho Marx eyebrow thing.  Eyebrow jumping jacks, arms only. 

Astrid worked with Squatch on the firewall, but she wasn’t happy. It wouldn’t be but a minute until their orbed world was surrounded by flames. Would the creek run dry or would the water taste burnt? Were they all that was left on the planet? Was this all that was left of the planet? 

Squatch and Astrid looked at each other, shook their heads, and sighed. 

It won’t get any better than this.