A "little scene" is a part of a story where the event that takes place isn't directly relevant to the plot and acts as a buffer against the action (which is especially important in adventure, drama, and thriller stories where there is often a lot of excitement for the reader to digest). Although these scenes are meant to be casual, they are a perfect opportunities for readers to get to know characters. Pinpoint small body-language quirks, and express the characters' interests and relationships that aren't related to the goal they are trying to reach to make them more well-rounded, relatable, and realistic as people. If the scene seems to go too far off-track, weave in a major theme in the story so the interaction doesn't seem out of place.
Example:
The Ghost
Up to their shoulders in grass, the group made their way back to camp, stumbling over the uneven patches of eroded concrete as a reminder of the civilization that once controlled the land. The sullen sky threatened darkness, so they treaded as fast as their exhausted limbs would allow.
An unusual relief hit them as they arrived. It was the safest place to rest, after all, even though the darkness couldn't mask the putrid, unidentifiable stench that plagued the area, or the broken glass littering the ground. From here, they went their separate ways: Theo to fetch firewood, Chase to sharpen spears, Mia to distribute water before they all gathered around Paige, who had an extensive list of cuts and burns to attend to.
Unpleased by the treacherous state of the floor, she sat herself up on the truck and bandaged her wounds there. If she hadn't known better, she might have mistook the burgundy splotches covering her arms for paint-- the thick, sticky kind; the kind that always dries up on the palette before making it to the page; the kind that always ends up buried under your fingernails no matter how careful you think you are; her favourite kind.
"I miss art class," she explained, tracing her finger across the the hood like a brush on canvas. "Painting was my favourite thing. I used to do landscapes, like Claude Monet."
Everyone froze in their own sliver of time, chilled by the presence of this long-forgotten language, this ghost that hovered above their heads like lingering smoke.
Theo's quiet, brave voice broke the silence. "I liked to draw."
Chase leaned against the wall with a shrug, glancing up from his freshly-sharpened spear. "I liked gym before they banned dodgeball."
"I know right! I couldn't believe that!" Mia exclaimed so exuberantly she ended up on her feet, but quickly recollected herself with blushing cheeks. "You know, they replaced it with more laps around the track. Bummer, right?"
The group murmured in agreement.
"I remember they'd do all those fitness tests," she continued, "we'd see who could run the fastest, do the most push ups, as if all that mattered."
"Maybe to those who could actually do a real push up," Chase sneered.
"You wouldn't know."
"I mean, reading Shakespeare in English was pretty cool too," Theo chimed, fiddling with a match between his fingers, "decoding the funny words, thinking about how weird it would be if we still talked like that today."
Paige secured the last bandage around her elbow, and scanned the dirt-specked faces in front of her. "If only we knew how weird things would get."
The ghost vanished.
Its absence, in a split second, seemed to swallow them all whole.
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