The camp fire flickered, warming the chill in the air and lighting the small campsite. It was more or less a yearly tradition for the three friends--find a new spot to camp during the full moon, spend the night telling stories, tripping on whatever cocktail of drugs they managed to procure, reflecting on human nature and how much things have changed.
Layla sat by the fire, prodding a burning log with a sharp stick. Her curly brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her clothes were dirty from a full day spent frolicking in the woods with her friends. They had since retired to their shared tent, leaving Layla alone, with her own tent waiting just a few feet away. There were a few bottles laying around, and she reached for a half full bottle of something, taking a sip with out paying attention to what it was.
Vodka. She almost choked when it hit the back of her throat. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she laid back on the ground, enjoying the feeling of the cool earth against her bare arms and legs. She laid still--almost motionless--as she listened to the insects buzzing. She intently watched the sky with her green eyes--the truth of the matter was, falling stars were a very common thing. They were just hard to see in the city, and even harder to see if you weren't paying attention.
Did she hear something? She lifted her head up, and looked in the direction she thought she heard a sound coming from--but there was only the crackling of the fire. Was it the weed or the shrooms that were making her paranoid? She couldn't be sure.
But with her friends sleeping just a few feet away, she felt safe. They had been camping in rougher areas before. And if she was too afraid to sleep by herself, she knew she was always more than welcome in their tent.
