The soft tongues of flame licked the logs like devils tongues, searching for something, anything, to burn and turn to ash. They engulfed the wood as though it was a delicious meal, and they had an endless appetite. Fire danced across the bonfire, twirling and twisting with its partner, the wind. Each gentle breeze sent them into a new sway, playing tricks on the unsuspecting eye. The blue burned bright, and the center of the heat, being hot to the touch but cold in its unforgiving taste for turning the innocent wood to ash. The fire was beautiful but deadly, sending sparks as a warning sign to all their enemies. The reach up from their castle of everlasting heat to find the dry leaves, and they are turned to ashes and blown away within moments of taking them in with their fiery grip.