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Summary
“Holy shit! This is so cool!” Stiles shouted as he and Scott approached the clearing. Scott made some sort of disgruntled noise beside him, but Stiles wasn’t paying attention. He was mesmerised by the party going on.
It was in the middle of the woods, in this huge open area, surrounded on all sides by dark, dead trees—the leaves fell quickly at this time of year, when the air was turning cooler but not so cold to be unable to stay outside. And at the center was a blazing bonfire that Stiles would swear was easily two storeys tall, but was more likely just eight or nine feet. It gave off sparks and smoke—that his dad had once told him over a campfire one year were spirits of the dead travelling to the afterlife; that the fire finally set them free. The fire warmly lit the clearing and the other party-goers who were already there.