whale bones

Sam and Martha threaded their way between the campfires, moving through corridors of half-lit night, the sand and grit pleasant against the soles of their bare feet. They split up and sat in on different fires for twenty, thirty minutes at a time, accepting drinks that were offered, or marshmallows on sticks to roast, and then they rose by some nocturnal synchronicity, or a half-glimpsed movement from the corner of the eye, and came together again in the dusky crossroads between the pools of light.