Bob's Bush Camp By Hannah

My stomach groans even more as I hear the constant sound of Mr Hawthorn bellowing.  I wait in front of the burning fire listening to the butter sizzling. The aroma wafts up my nose and the sound of Lotta roaring, "Scones, scones! Come and try these delicious scones," echoed through my ears. Slowly I smattered the scones with butter and jam and popped them into my mouth. The soft texture soothed my dried mouth. Smoke heats up my face as I take a quick glance at my own scones and they are perfectly golden brown. YAY!