Chris offered the deer's carcass a crestfallen look, reclaiming the knife he'd set aside. "I've never been a boy scout," he informed no one in particular.

Still, a task was a task, and he seemed willing to try his hand at it one way or the other. It couldn't be that much more complicated than optical phase conjugation, anyway. He rummaged briefly through his bag in search of other useful supplies before producing one of numerous cheap plastic lighters and looking out into the dimming light outside their temporary shelter.

"We're gonna need kindling for some sort of campfire."