Steam and smoke arose from the sticks as I whispered. The pot I had brought from home rested atop neatly placed rocks, and the water within began to bubble as flames licked the hardened clay. It had been chipped at the top, I noted; must have been from my tumble the other day. For a while now, I had survived off of roadside greens, bitter root, and wild onions, just like the ones mother and I used to pick every spring. But as the rill running by the roadside provided fresh drinking, it was also home to all sorts of edible critters. Snails were not a favorite, chewy as they were, but the sizable frog I had caught, that now lay inside the pot along with said greens, would be a meaty and much welcome change.

Dusk had begun to set in when my meal had cooled enough to be eaten, and hungrily I scarfed down the flimsy leaves and greens. The meat was boiled tender, and after I had gnawed the tiny bones clean, I drank the greasy stock with much delight. I burped content. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I felt full.

The birds around me greeted the evening as it neared with song and flair, odd little creatures, I thought to myself. They sing each morn to celebrate the day, and each eve they do it all the same as if happy to have lived just another day. Perhaps it's fair, I pondered; living isn't all that easy, at least not out here in the wilderness.

A rustling sound interrupted the singing, and angry chirping began emanating from the trees around. I whispered for my waning fire to wake anew, and the growing flames covered the nearby road, along with the surrounding underbrush, in a warm glow, as I fed it sticks and chunks of bark.

A chill rolled down my back as I pushed the still warm pot inside the knapsack, ready to run. I had a feeling there was something out there scaring the birds, and it didn't take long for my fears to be confirmed.

Angrily chattering, a rugged figure appeared from the forest depths, soon followed by another. The creatures were short, barely chest-height, and while their limbs were the same as any man's, albeit covered in a dirty brown fur, their faces were those of beasts. Rat folk! I cursed inside my head, throwing the knapsack over my shoulder before hastily turning for the road. I didn't blindly sprint, but took to a steady jog before they could get too close. Ratmen weren't known for being quick; having short legs and stunted bodies meant they could be outrun. But taken off guard or ambushed, one might suffer a horrid end at their brute hands. They were also known for being good climbers, so hiding up a tree, although tempting, was out of the question.

My body still ached from previous endeavors, as if the endless wandering wasn't enough. My legs especially protested this unwelcome evening-run, but what choice did I have? Unless I wished to be clobbered and clawed to death, I simply had to put distance between me and the beasts, a lot of distance. While the shadows around me grew, and twilight settled, the winding road became all the harder to see, and more than once did I mistakenly stumble at its edge.

I stopped to concentrate for a while and with my hands cupped I called forth a small ball of fire to hover within. At first, it took quite some concentration to keep it there afloat, but after a while I found my thoughts drifting while the road stayed lit by fiery gleam. By the time the night fully swallowed the woods, I merely had to keep my palm facing up for the radiant sphere to lead way through the dark. It was a thrilling discovery.

In the distance, just as I had slowed into a steady walk, I glimpsed a weak shine light up the bases of the surrounding birches and pines. Another traveler? I pondered, curious but alert. I had been alone in the deep woods for many days, and the hunger for company shoved carefulness and good judgment aside.

Curiously, I left the road, letting my flame wane before I peeked out from behind the thick trunk of an old pine.

"I told you he'd stomp right in, that'll be another silver added to your debt old friend," a dry, nasal laugh sounded from a cloaked figure by the fire.

"Yeah yeah, just write it up with the rest, you cheating bastard," a giant man, twice the size of Barold, answered with a grumpy snort while polishing a terrifying axe larger than myself, clearly meant for things other than chopping firewood.

"Evening!" I greeted with a courteous nod, "...may I join the two of you by the fire?"

"Oh!" The giant beamed, with a wide grin glinting through his well-kept beard, "You've got some manners in you boy!" He slapped a massive hand on the withered log he himself sat upon, "Come, sit! Warm up and share your name, mine is Urax!"

Hoping for friendly folks, I had seemingly struck gold. "I'm Euran," I introduced myself as I sat down beside the giant.

"Greetings young one," The cloaked figure said. He neither moved from where he was seated, leaning up against the trunk of a tree, nor even cared to look up from under his deep blue cloak.

"Don't mind Yarelic, he holds little interest for anything but sorcery and coin," Urax said.

Yarelic looked up at his large companion, and in the firelight I could see how his neck, face, and even eyes were fully covered by thick wrappings. "And don't mind the bumbling buffoon polishing his axe for the eight time today," his raspy voice flowed from behind the fabric.

"She needs to be cared for, what if she rusts?" Urax responded, noticeably hurt.

The two bickered for a while about things about which I knew nothing, and I struggled to keep a straight face at their colorful choices of words, until Yarelic stopped himself mid-insult. He turned upwards as a slight flicker of blue appeared from his blinded eyes.

"Guess your little friends are still hungry, young one..." he said, "...Urax, do you mind?"

Within half a breath, Urax's friendly face changed into a bloodthirsty grin, and his eyes shimmered with glee. "Not at all old friend. How many?"

The sudden change in the man made me shudder with unease, and almost subconsciously, I moved away from him, further out on the log.

"Just the two, the same duo I've sensed sneaking about the woods all eve." The cloaked one informed.

Urax nodded in response, and carefully wrapped the whetstone inside a piece of cloth before putting it away. He arose, towering over me, with the monstrous axe at hand. "Which way?" he asked.

The blue mist near Yarelic’s eyes swirled and flickered in response, before he spoke. "West, they've followed the boy's scent along the road."

"How do you know?" I asked as curiosity bubbled up from within.

"A minor trick of the trade, young one..." he responded with an unseen chuckle as the wrappings on his face remained unmoving, "...nothing for a lost farmboy to take to mind."

With a sting of disappointment, I let the topic fade, while the curiosity still rummaged at the back of my head.

Urax stomped out of the grove, disappeared into the dark as an awkward silence settled around us. Yarelic didn't seem much interested in talking, and I sat in suspense, wondering what was about to happen. Then, a shrill screech cut through the night, and then another. Sharp, inhuman sounds that carried echoes of surprise and anger. Moments later, Urax returned to the firelight with splatters of blood on his woolen tunic and face, the axe dripping with red as he sat down to clean it with oil and cloth.

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"Wasn't much of a fight..." he said. Somehow he sounded disappointed. "Boy, mind fetching me some water from the rill over yonder, to clean my face?" He stopped his hands and turned to gaze at me, his eyes once again bright and friendly, "...and get some for yourself while you're at it, you look like you've slept in the mud for a week."

After having cleaned ourselves with chill water, and put our feet close to the fire for warmth, Urax handed me a good piece of dried mutton to gnaw at. The rich meat swelled in my mouth, as vigor permeated throughout my body; it was simply divine.

"Bought it in Karham just the other day. Brilliant that butcher's wife, she had a bosom like a fattened heifer!" Urax laughed, as he returned to carefully polish the blade of his axe with the little black stone.

"You look like you haven't had decent eatin' in a while lad. Tell us, what's a farmer's boy doing out in the wilds on his own?"

I hesitated, these were strangers, men like none I had ever met. Yet I felt drawn to them and oddly relaxed. Curiosity, fascination, something pulled me towards them. Perhaps the smell of adventure and the aura of mystery that radiated from their very presence, or perhaps it was Urax with his kind, confident way that put me at ease. Either way, I spoke.

I explained the events from a few days back, what I had done, and the chase through the woods. I told them about Cat and the pain I felt, but stopped myself from mentioning the strange dreams I'd had. For some reason they felt too private, still it was far more than I had intended.

At some point, I felt waves, like soft brushes of warm wind, flow from where Yarelic sat, quietly whispering.

"What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly pulled out of what felt like a soft, warm blanket.

"Interesting!" he chuckled, "...Worry not young one, I simply wished for you to feel at ease. But I never expected you to notice."

Urax, who had been listening with great interest to my retelling, sighed loudly. "Always with the spells and the whispers, you old rag. Didn't you hear, the boy dabbles in the arts himself he does."

"Yes, so it seems, I took most of it for exaggerations and lies but perhaps not..." The wraps on his face shifted as if in curiosity, "Show me, young one."

Again I hesitated. It was the first time anyone had ever shown real interest in my play with kindling. I gave a whisper and conjured the fiery ball that had previously led me through the dark, and I rested it atop my palm for a while.

"Interesting..." Yarelic mumbled for a second time, while Urax clapped his hands with delight.

"Boy, you sure are full of surprises!" The big man cheered.

Yarelic leaned closer with faint blue sparks coming from his covered eyes, and as he did, thin sheets of ice began forming around the ball. As parts melted, new ice generated, thickened, and encapsulated the fire within.

"Fight it!" Yarelic hissed, "Make it hotter, larger!"

Confused, yet thrilled, pulses of excitement and fascination radiating from my chest, and I did as told. Urax watched us in silent awe. Spurred on, I focused my mind on the tiny ball, fed it, urged it on, whispered words of encouragement. Until it once again began melting away at the ice. It was as if the heat of the very air around us had disappeared as we battled, wholly absorbed in play, until Yarelic suddenly ceased his magic. The moment he stopped, the encapsulated fire in my hand swelled, grew into the size of Urax's head, angrily pulsing and swiveling with energy.

"What do I do?" I cried out with sudden fear, feeling the terrible energy in my hand, so heavy, I struggled to contain it. Ripples of red heat bloomed, and the shine alone turned the night to day as I for a moment, sweating and squinting, relived what I had done to Orulf.

"Don't let go, control it!" Yarelic's dry voice instructed. "Send it upwards, above the trees!"

I gripped my wrist with the other hand, fighting to keep my palm upright as the fear grew.

"Keep calm young one, I'll help you, see..." Yarelic spurred me on, and with his words a breeze blew through the grove along the moss-covered rock, gushing upwards and shaking the leaves above.

Hesitant, I put all my strength into throwing the angry globe high, and as I did I whispered. With a loud thrumming, it flew upwards, past the treetops and into the dark sky above. There it hung, suspended for a short while, before bursting into a cloud of flame. The resounding bang shook the forest and awakened every bird from slumber as murders of frightened crows flew across the night sky. Their panicked caws disappeared in the distant night as they fled to safer grounds.

Urax was first to break the silence. With a whistle and eyes wide, he sat, face still locked on to the sky where night once again ruled.

"Not bad there lad! One of those would surely singe the hair off of anyone's chest!" He turned towards me as I sat down, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I... how did, why..." I stuttered in response and turned to Yarelic, untold questions like a torrent in my head, as a strange sensation of fatigue washed over me.

"Truly peculiar..." he mumbled to himself, "...is that all you can do?"

"ALL?" I cried out in dismay, does he expect me to sprout leeks out my ears and have the birds speak?

He gave a short raspy laugh, "Don't misunderstand me young one, your fiery prowess was plenty interesting. Though I wonder, do you have an aptitude for elements beyond the red flame?"

My confused face seemed to clue him in. "I guess not then, not surprising." He then gave off a muffled sigh, "What irresponsible buffoon taught you, a child, such arts!? And worse, without leaving you the teachings of proper restraint and control?"

Still confused, I looked at him, my mouth gaping and speech stunted. "I... I ever... I only ever saw my father do it. But there were others in the village, at least a dozen who knew how to I'm sure."

Urax looked at me with his thick brow deeply furrowed, "What drivel are you spouting boy? There's a whole village out here with conjurers and magies slinging fire around?" he grunted in disbelief, "Don't sound much of truth to me!"

Yarelic nodded, putting a cloth-wrapped hand to his chin in thought. "Who among them taught you the words of whisper?"

Again I looked at the two men, unsure how to explain. "No one. I saw my father kindle the fire once. I simply did as he did. Though the flames have never cared much for my choice of words..." Yarelic gasped with surprise, but I continued, "...If anything, they respond to intent."

Urax whistled again, the fireplace's flickering reflection dancing in his eyes as he listened with much wonder. Yarelic returned to his seat by the tree in silence.

"You think you're only conjuring kindling young one?" He finally asked.

"I... I guess not, but I never considered it anything out of the ordinary."

He sighed heavily. "A child stumbled from the path of puny everyday incantations, and fell unknowing into the gaping maws of the grand arts." He once again turned to face me, his voice no longer dry, but instead noticeably upset. "Some struggle for decades to understand but a fraction of what you have been gifted through sheer dumb luck!"

The cloth on his face shimmered blue as he berated, then, once again he fell silent and turned towards the fire. It flickered and waned, danced and moved with his whispers. "...decades," he mumbled, "...bloody decades."

Urax's brows were still deep with concern, "Cheer up old friend, the lad must be talent of the ages, truly blessed by the gods! No reason to let the inside of that head of yours itch!"

For some time, Yarelic continued playing with the fire, but eventually with Urax's unwavering stare, he relented.

"Young one, you've never had a teacher, is that right?" He asked.

"Never, no."

"Well, you do now. From now on, you do what we tell you, and in return, I'll teach you about controlling that filthy aptitude of yours!"

I wasn't sure I liked the way he had put it, and felt a surging urge to rebel, who is he to order me around? I thought. Urax, imposing as he was, had been both welcoming and kind, but this rude, nasal man draped in cloth? Fortunately, more than anything, the thought of learning about these magical things spurred the flame of curiosity within, and I decidedly bit my tongue. Yarelic didn't seem like the nicest of teachers, but at least I wouldn't have to be alone in the forest.

A sudden thought sprung into my mind as I pondered, caught up in daydreams and fantasies. "What are you doing here in the woods?" I asked.

Urax leaned in close, again with a bloodthirsty grin, flames still dancing in his eyes. "Hunting Rattar-ilk."