II
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Section two.
Days and nights passed akin to grains of sand through a soft grip. Though, the boy’s new companion lay stark in place. He had grown accustomed to it, even taking certain efforts to keep it safe.
He would close his door completely, ensuring that there were no evident gaps whenever he needed to hunt or gather resources. He had also begun conducting many “tests” if you will. Similar to his first encounter with it, he experimented. He found that not only wood held the capacity to “ignite,” but that materials like dead grass, tree bark, and soil that was dry enough also had this characteristic.
He even speculated that these materials were not the only things that the object had an effect on. As a safety precaution, he’d placed a border of stones around it, ensuring that it did not venture far. In his experiments, he’d managed to separate a few pieces of the thing into different, though less self-sustaining, sections. Resting on beds of the aforementioned materials, the small flags burned voraciously.
As of now, the boy sat under the dogwood tree, tying vines and leaves into rope that he could use to fashion weapons for hunting. He’d procured a raccoon from a tree nearby, which lay still on top of the grass next to him. As long as he’d been here, he remembered never to make the animals he caught uncomfortable before they died. At times, he would hunt in silence, ending their lives swiftly. Others, when his attempts failed and the animals had to suffer, he did his best to console them before their end. He couldn’t remember when or where he’d acquired these skills, but he was adept enough at them.
Once he finished, it had darkened sufficiently, the sun now only peeking out above the cliff face to the west. The moon, though, was nowhere in sight. By now, it should have been on the horizon.
Though the stars were beautiful, he was exhausted. Sighing, he stood up and walked toward his house, taking note of the soft light leaking through the gaps of the wood logs. Smiling, he lifted the door out of the way and entered.
The scene was unfamiliar—darker than usual. Dotted around the space were sections of dirt and grass, charred. Though, no flame adorned any of them. Confused, the boy observed as the original flame seemed to have increased in size since morning.
“Right,” he muttered, remembering that the fires “consume” the materials he gives them. He hadn’t forgotten what happened with the branch.
The boy sat next to the main flame, placing the still raccoon gently next to him as a stone bowl filled with pond water filled his hands. Quite parched, he brought the bowl to his lips to take a sip. A few droplets of water escaped, running down the edge of the bowl and dripping down. Like gems of amber, they reflected a fiery light as they plummeted.
“Tss!” A sound akin to a snake’s hiss sounded out. The boy jumped up immediately, standing and looking around for a weapon. Unfortunately, he had yet to repair them. His head swiveled side to side, searching for any sign of a snake. There was nothing, aside from the dead raccoon next to him. It must have been outside, he thought. He did notice that he’d spilled some water on himself, though. Relaxing slightly, he sat down into a cautious crouch and flung the droplets of water off of his arm in hopes that it would dry faster.
“Tss! Tss!” A similar sound could be heard, though less prominent. Now clear that there was no snake nearby, the boy looked toward the fire in confusion. The sound seemed to originate from the vicinity.
After a moment, he decided to take his branch and light another fire in a corner, taking the near-empty bowl and pouring the remaining water onto it. Sparkling as the tiny waterfall fell, a more intense hiss sounded before the water completely extinguished the flame, steam rising in thin streams.
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He hadn’t expected this. Though he knew that damp materials wouldn’t ignite, he hadn’t anticipated water to have such a potent effect.
His experiment had now robbed him of his remaining water, along with his energy. On the far-side of the room, there was a resting place furnished with leaves that had been packed down to resemble the stone’s texture due to usage. Making his way over, the boy cast the events out of his mind before laying down, turning to the tiny flame in the center of his home.
He looked at it dotingly, its flapping a hypnotizing dance that willed him away to sleep.
As he dozed off, a strong gust of wind blew through a tiny gap in the entrance, opening it a tad further. Now with more room, it had a fierce momentum and immediately extinguished the flame he’d recently lit in the corner. It produced embers in retaliation, but they too were blown into the wind.
Though, the center flame stood its ground. Its hair burning furiously as its arms waved wildly in the wind. A shame, it wasn’t strong enough. Gradually, it lost most of its form, blown out along with a tendril of smoke that graced the stone below.
Strangely, the boy had not woken, the gust of wind only serving to change his resting position. In his reverie, he began to dream. Though scattered and fractured as most of his were, he felt different. He began to think and experience, feeling the texture below, cycling the air surrounding within his lungs.
It was warm. The air carried a tender note that brushed against his body, almost equal to his body temperature. Perhaps exceeding. Within his lungs, the air began to boil. As if a stew were brewing within. The saliva on his tongue began to disappear, melding with the surrounding air. He felt warmer.
The warmest part of his surroundings seemed to be below him. He could feel different points on his legs that almost sizzled, though comfortably.
He finally opened his eyes.
They were greeted to a sea of orange, splashing and weaving through his vision. His eyes were unfocused as he felt his mouth become dry, forcing him to close his mouth. He was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm.
Sharpening his gaze, he gazed through the ocean to see a landscape inside. His legs began to burn and his eyes began to dry, warming in the embrace of the weaving air.
Tearing his drying eyes from the air, he looked down at the ground, vague shapes greeting him. They sparkled with a glowing orange, enticing him. Reaching down, he picked one up, The object greeted him with the same feelings they had given to his legs, torrid.
The object bore sharp edges, chipped at the edges. It didn’t seem to bear as strong a tint as the others, rather black, instead. It stood out in the crowd of blazing white, yellow, and orange objects surrounding. The boy was interested as his gaze began to sharpen. As his eyes widened, more moisture began to seep from his eyes as he came to a stark realization.
He was burning.
Slowly looking at the skin below the item, he noted that the flesh seemed to steam, peeling from his palm. The fingers on his other hand that’d inspected the item lacked fingerprints, charred off.
He wasn’t swimming. The air surrounding was only visible due to the temperature. This was dangerous.
His senses sharpened and proper feeling returned to him; he felt as if he were scorching, sizzling into the ground below. He inhaled sharply, his lungs only greeted by another piercing gust of blazing air.
He hurriedly rose, dropping the item and looking around for an escape. Tumbling over fiery stones, he began to run in a random direction, trying to blank out his senses.
Some of these stones were familiar to the boy, like an ordinary object he’d find near a lake. Others were completely foreign to him. As he ran, a sound entered his ears, nearly distorted out of tune by the surrounding air.
The boy looked up immediately, eager for an escape. There, he could see a form of someone, poised as if they were contemplating something. He ran faster, his legs weakening as he fell to his knees onto the rocks below. Pained, he looked up again. The scene was clearer now. He could see a figure, earnestly striking two objects together.
They were sitting on something that resembled a tree stump, and in their hands were objects familiar to the boy. One was an ordinary stone, brightened with an orange glow. The other was a piece similar to the black object the boy had held. When striking the two together, they used a strange method, angling the two away from their body.
On impact, the two objects produced sparks, something familiar. Something like that came to be when his own flame showed up in his home. The stones underneath his legs proved unbearable, he struggled to stay still. The ringing sounds from the impacts pained him as he grew confused.
Preparing himself to shout out to the figure, he noticed as the figure looked at him, halting their actions. Their face grew blurred in the boy’s eyes as the distortion in the air grew stronger, as if he were encased in shore. These streams of air began to grow brighter until all that could compete was the sun above.