John

Its head tilted slightly, as if listening.

Then he raised his face.

There were no eyes in the way he expected.

Instead, just the milky white eyes of a blind man.

The uncle stared into them like he had to, like there was some answer there that he'd needed his entire life.

But there, just feet away from the blazing fire, the uncle felt nothing but an impossible cold.

A cold that made his skin hurt.

A cold that made his very bones ache.

Then he realized that he wasn't alone.

Out in the treeline, shadows moved.

The light from the fire made it impossible for his eyes to adjust enough to pick out details.

But he knew there was more than one person out there.

More than two.

So many more.

One by one, the shadows started to move closer to the fire.

Not just slow, but hesitant.

Like animals exercising their ingrained instincts to be afraid, or at least wary.

but soon enough they started to step forward one by one.

A woman in a torn dress, a man wearing hiking gear, a child dragging a teddy bear through the dirt.

More and more of them approached the fire, hands raised to the flames.