Chapter 1: Marshmallows by Firelight

The fire crackled softly beneath a crown of tall pine trees, their branches swaying and whispering secrets to the moon above. Mickey sat cross-legged on a log, his cheeks kissed by the orange glow. Nearby, Hannah clutched her stick, a determined look on her face as she watched her marshmallow hover above the flames.

“Just a little longer,” Mickey murmured, turning his own marshmallow with practiced ease.

Hannah sighed, her brows furrowing. “Mine never turns out right. It’s either too cold or—”

A hiss, a puff of smoke, and her marshmallow drooped, slipped, and with a quiet plop, fell into the embers. Hannah’s shoulders slumped. “Or it just burns up or falls off,” she finished, her voice small.

Meow Meow, the tabby cat, crept closer, curling his tail around Hannah’s ankle. He stretched up on his hind legs, pawing gently at her stick, as if to say, Try again. Mickey smiled and offered another marshmallow. “Here. Let’s take it slow together.”

Hannah hesitated, but her friends’ gentle encouragement warmed her more than the fire ever could. She slid a fresh marshmallow onto her stick, gripping it tightly this time. The others leaned in, sharing quiet giggles and stories—like the time Mickey thought he’d seen a forest sprite, or when Meow Meow chased fireflies until he tumbled head-first into a pile of leaves.

As Hannah held her marshmallow above the coals, Mickey whispered, “See the way the edges turn golden if you’re patient? Let it spin nice and slow.”

She watched carefully, turning her stick gently, feeling the heat on her hands and the cool forest air on her cheeks. The marshmallow slowly puffed and changed, its skin blushing bronze. Meow Meow purred, approvingly flicking his tail.

For the first time, Hannah didn’t worry about perfection. She listened to the laughter, the nighttime songs of birds, the gentle crackle of fire. When she finally lifted her marshmallow, it was golden and fluffy—imperfectly shaped but beautiful all the same.

Everyone cheered, and Hannah beamed. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. She shared it with Mickey and Meow Meow, savoring the gooey sweetness, feeling loved and content.

Later, in their cozy cabin nestled among the trees, Hannah thought about the evening—the failed marshmallows, the laughter, the warmth that lingered even after the fire went out. As she snuggled under her blanket, Meow Meow curled at her feet, purring softly, she realized that the best moments weren’t perfect. They were simply shared.

Mickey’s voice drifted from the next bed, gentle and sleepy. “Goodnight, Hannah.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered back, a smile on her lips. The forest outside settled into peaceful silence, and inside the cabin, hearts rested easy, full of joy and togetherness.