Be prepared-“The Boys Scouts of Americas” motto. I twisted the small stick together back and forth in between my two sore palms. The cold wind bit through the small Boy Scout campsite. The moon was high in the sky, five minutes until bed. I craved to start a fire with my own two hands; and not manufactured equipment, in fact, it had been one of my biggest dreams at the time. My hand had endured over an hour of constant motion. They cried out in pain for me to stop, but I ignored them. My predecessors had given up on the activity and now were enjoying a mouth-watering pudding pie. I had used stick after stick and strategy after strategy to ignite the leaves. A wisp of smoke rose from the leaves. I smiled. From then, to my stride to Eagle rank now this is my proudest moment.
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