Another day, another planet, more trees. The cackle of fire, the smell of burnt marshmallow -- and Jack is back in Minnesota, watching in fascination as Grandpops hands him his first marshmallow on a stick.
Jack blinks and raises an eyebrow at Daniel, who shrugs.
"It's not camping unless you have marshmallows."
Grabbing the proffered stick from his teammate, Jack busies himself blowing on the hot marshmallow.
Grandpops had a thick beard, and big bony fingers that carved marvelous toys. He always thought Grandpops as ancient as the forest -- but in a few years, he'd be as old as Grandpops had been the day he died.