Smoke drifts up from the campfire, circling in the air. It fills my lungs and blinds me. I shield my eyes with my jacket sleeves as I continue to watch the embers of the fire. They burn red, a bright scarlet that serves as a warning. The flames themselves lick at the air, shrinking as the night wanes on. With each log that’s added to the pile, the fire grows, casting a glow around the area. It crackles and sends sparks shooting in the air. By the morning, the fire is gone, and I continue on my journey. Only the ashes are any indicator of the night before.