"Can someone help me with this soup?"  Moonshadow always has some concoction that most fine restaurants fear to try under controlled conditions.  Tonight is an Aegean Soup with lentils and rosemary (or some such).  
 

"We have our 'Max Patch Mac and Cheese.'"
 

"So what makes it 'Max Patch Mac and Cheese?'" 

"I dunno.  They put corn in it, called it 'Max Patch' and charged us a buck fifty extra."
 

Viking and I compare our Lipton Packets.  "I have Beef Noodles." 
 

"HA!  I have Beef Stroganoff!"
 

"Well if everyone is through eating…"
 

I reach into my pack and pull out a bottle of 12 year old scotch (okay..so it's a blend) that has been chilling in my pack for 24 hours now.  I pass it around, and with each sip…it gets colder!  The bottle makes another lap around the fire ring and the next thing I know, Viking and Crumbs are in a MAD BRAWL!  
 

Now Viking isn't called Viking because he is a tiny dark haired fellow.  He has blond hair, a full beard, and looks like Eric the Red's man-at-arms.  
 

Crumbs on the other hand, looks like she could subsist off crumbs from Viking's plate for weeks at a time and be satisfied.
 

Now here they are, flailing wildly at each other in some bizarre death match called "Pushy".  Alright…maybe they were just standing a few feet apart from each other and slapping at each others hands.  But the deal is, you can't move your legs at all.  You just stand across from your opponent with your hands facing each other like you are about to play patty-cake.  Then you slap your arms forwards, hitting the persons hands and trying to either have enough force to make the person stagger backwards, or to feint in such a way that makes the other person over-exert and lunge a leg forward.  I would have bet my last Beefy Noodle that Viking would put poor little Crumbs in the fire.  But I will say this, after the match, as Viking lay hobbled and bleeding, I took Crumbs off my list of people to pick a fight with (as Hopeful would say).  
 

We are all back around the fire now, digesting our dinners, sipping at the Scotch, sharing memories of the trail, and watching the warm fire glow.  "Hey Lasta, look up!"  Some time ago I had said that I wish the stars would come out.  And when I look up, its clear my wish was granted.  
 

Stars are so huge in the Winter naturally, and out in the mountains, with no leaves in the trees, any spot is great for star watching.  
 

"There's Orion."  
 

"That one there is Andromeda."  
 

"Can anyone find the North Star?" 
 

 "There I am.. the Twins, right below Orion."
 

The girls go to bed first, and Viking and I stay up and burn off the last bit of fire wood, sip at the last ounces of Scotch, and revisit our Body Snatcher discussion.  "What time is it."  "Oh, its got to be 1:30 by now."  I am amazed when I roll back my sleeve to find it is barely past ten.  At home, I have to force myself to go to bed before midnight and on the weekends 2 or 3 is usually when I start thinking about sleep.  But out here, 10:00 for some reason is when most people are sacked out.