I believe I may have caused some minor miscommunication - there are not only three variants of slime.

Indeed, there is an enormous number of different specimens, although some argue ‘strains’ might be a more accurate terminology. Yes, fire, ice, and acid are indeed the most common, but there also exist slimes attuned to earth, air, poison, plants, and nearly any element that has a name.

The more powerful the respective element, the rarer the slime using it becomes. How exactly such slimes are produced has not been researched, to my annoyance. Do common, powerless slimes simply change one day? Is it a reproductive mutation? Do the elements themselves change slimes? No one has ever bothered to look.

What I cannot help but remain curious about is this; that every type of spell has a corresponding slime. Assuming this is true for all magicks… is there a chance that summoning slimes exist? Spatial slimes? Void slimes? Star slimes?!

Unfortunately, even if such a specimen did exist, their value would be far less than appropriate. Regardless of power, the only thing people seem to see in slimes is their stupidity.

-Daro D’Vari, reporter for The Daily Daro

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With a quick inhalation, Miro sucked the flame out of the streetlight and into its mouth, wrinkling uncomfortably. It’d grown tired of the taste after the first few. At the halfway point, it’d decided that it never wanted to eat fire again.

At this point, if it never saw a candle again, it’d be none too many.

Avynne lowered it from the streetlight, patting it nervously. “Are you alright? You have eaten… a lot of fire.”

Miro certainly had. They only had one street left to extinguish, all the way on the other side of town. It’d been a long morning, the sun having risen some time ago. It couldn’t help but wonder what Olivai and Otto were up to. Had they handled Daveen? What had they decided to do to him?

Walking to the next streetlight, Avynne held Miro up. Pulling the hatch open with a thought, Miro pulled the fire out and swallowed it.

The taste was actually bad at this point. Miro had thought it was impossible for a taste to change once it’d been experienced. Somehow, it’d been gloriously, terribly, horribly wrong. Fire ranked number one on Miro’s list of least favorite flavors. And it’d made the list exclusively for it!

Miro had never hated a taste before.

But it’d never tasted fire before, either.

Close the door, walk to the next one, wait to be lifted, open the door, eat fire.

Miro suddenly recalled the events of the previous night. Olivai had given Avynne money to get some food from Bordi’s shop! Once they were done, Miro would get to taste… something! Anything from Bordi’s, even if it wasn’t sweet!

Close the door, walk to the next one, wait to be lifted, open the door, eat fire.

Miro reconsidered the sentiment. It wouldn’t turn down something unsweet. But if it - or Avynne, at any rate - had money, then they could probably pick whatever they wanted.

It was in the mood to try something new. Maybe something with a mite more bite to it, something that would really kick Miro’s mouth into happiness. Anything that didn’t taste like fire, really.

Avynne lowered Miro, and it prepared to eat the next one. When she didn’t, it snapped out of its torpor and stared up at her.

It was too early in the morning for either of them to be sleepy, but she definitely looked tired. “Good job,” she told it with a smile. “We’re all done.”

Surprised, Miro looked down the street and saw not a single lick of flame. The road slowly grew brighter as the sun rose, but the streetlights themselves were dim and empty.

Miro deflated with a wheeze, the effort it’d put into opening hundreds of hatches and eating an equal number of flames catching up to it. Avynne patted it pleasantly, the curious texture of her feathers reinvigorating Miro somewhat. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t usually finish this quickly.”

Miro proudly burbled, inflating a bit. It was exhausted and more than a little frustrated at the unknown limit to its appetite, but at least they were finally finished.

Cradling Miro more comfortably, Avynne turned around and eased herself to the ground, leaning against the final streetlight. “Thank you very much,” she said again. Miro burbled happily, snuggling further into her lap.

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To its dismay, the taste of fire was the only thing it could think about anymore. Its spiciness, that rancid taste after just a few seconds, the barely noticeable heat that accompanied the flame as it entered Miro’s mouth.

Miro could’ve cried. It was finally done with all the streetlights. Finally. And now it couldn’t even stop thinking about them.

Avynne stood up, dislodging Miro from her lap and distracting it from its minimal misery. Brushing her apron off, she asked, “Would you like to go to Bordi’s now? I know you didn’t get the opportunity last night.”

All thoughts of fire vanished from Miro’s mind immediately. Speeding around Avynne’s ankles, it readied itself and bounced as high as it could, perching on top of her head. Her neck bent from its weight, and Miro hurriedly dropped back down.

Avynne caught it halfway, laughing in her weird, chirpy, fluffy way. “Do you know what you want to eat?”

A decision had to be made!

As Miro rolled along just behind Avynne’s heels, it wondered what it would get. A tray of the sweets? Some of the tarts? Something it’d never tried before!?

“Oi, Madarai. Mind stoppin’ a sec?”

Miro and Avynne both stopped at the same time, looking for the source of the voice. Donnel stood in one of the shadowed alleys nearby, yellow eyes glinting. “That’s, uh… that’s Olivai’s slime, right? The one that hangs aroun’ her all th’ time?”

Avynne’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Its name is Miro.”

Donnel nodded, slowly stepping into the light. “Yeah, that’s it. How’s it doin’?”

Miro burbled uneasily, sliding behind Avynne’s talons. Flaring her feathers slightly, Avynne warily responded, “Miro is doing fine.”

A long silence followed, and the tension cranked up a notch. “So,” Donnel asked, “What do you want?”

Avynne blinked, thrown. “What?”

Donnel indicated Miro. “For the slime. How much d’ye want?”

“Miro isn’t for sale!” Avynne exclaimed, more than a little shocked. “And it belongs to Olivai!”

“Oh, come on,” He complained, moving in a little closer. “Everyone’s got ta have a price tag for summat or another. It don’t make a difference to whatever it is, right? ‘Sides, yer the one who went ‘n stole it from Olivai. Don’t act like you ain’t got a price.”

“I - I didn’t steal Miro!” Avynne’s head-feathers were beginning to spike up, displaying her anxiety. “And I wouldn’t sell Miro even if I did own it.”

Miro considered being offended at all of the talk regarding who did and didn’t own it, as it preferred to think of itself as a free creature. Although… if freedom meant it had to buy its own snacks, it wouldn’t mind being owned that much.

Donnel took another step closer. “Look, I’m from a family o’ well-raised slime gardeners. I know what I know and I don’t know more than you’ll ever forget.”

Both slime and Madarai stared at Donnel in abject confusion, and he shook his head. “Don’t matter. Point bein’, I know how ta take care of a slime. I’ll only look ‘im over, I swear on me shell.”

“No.” Avynne’s voice was firm. Miro couldn’t help but think back to when it’d first met her, how nervous she’d been talking to Olivai. Had she changed in such a short time, or did she only act that way around the priestess?

Donnel frowned, shifting his weight forward. “What if I told ye all o’ Caro Lias might get blown to smithereens if’n that slime don’t get taken care of?”

Avynne nearly dropped Miro from shock. “How would that-”

Donnel suddenly rushed forward, claws stabbing towards Miro. Miro did the first thing it thought of and grabbed the dwarf, pushing him backward. Avynne was taken by surprise by the unexpected assault, but took advantage of Miro’s stall.

Moving closer, she dropped Miro and lunged forward, hooking her foot around Donnel’s left leg with her talons squeezing tightly around the stone-like flesh. Spinning past his sharp claws, she kicked off the side of the alley and kicked him solidly in the side of the face.

She screeched loudly and stepped backward, shaking her foot. Donnel cracked his neck and raised his heavy claws again, wary of the Madarai.

Miro figured it out suddenly. He didn’t know that Miro had been the one to pull on him!

What exactly that meant for the fight, Miro wasn’t sure, but it sounded helpful somehow!

Donnel grinned, rapping his head. “Most don’t expect the good old’ stonecracker, but most ain’t hit a dwarf’s head either.”

Avynne bent, watching Donnel intently. Miro bobbed faintly, keeping an eye on him. It didn’t know what he was going to do next, but it was most likely a bad thing.

“How’d you do that?” He asked, sliding a foot closer.

Avynne retreated back towards the light of the street, carefully maintaining a good distance between them. “We have many abilities,” She replied, keeping her talons spread apart and her claws close to her chest, ready to fight.

Donnel’s eyes narrowed. “Huh. If you didn’t do that, then…” Slashing with his claws, he moved in. Avynne was forced to move back, keeping her steps high and her balance even. Miro could tell that she knew what she was doing.

Her back foot landed squarely on Miro and she slipped, nearly squishing the slime into the alley. Miro released a loud squeak of Donnel took advantage of it, lunging forward.

Avynne tilted, her reflexes still fast enough to reduce the damage. His claws punctured straight through her shirt, tearing the side open, and she made a sharp cry.

A red stain appeared, spreading through Avynne’s shirt as she retreated. Miro stared at it for a moment, trying to process what had just happened as a barrage of disconnected thoughts blurred through its mind in a split second. Donnel’s claws cut Avynne’s shirt. Now it was red. Miro’s summoner had been hit by an arrow, which had made his shirt red and caused him pain. Avynne… was in pain.

RAGE.

A horrific shriek tore from Miro as it swelled, rapidly growing between Avynne and Donnel. Its attention was focused fully and entirely on the dwarf.

It didn’t want to pick him up.

It didn’t want to spin him.

It wanted to kill him.

Its mind slipped briefly to the streetlights it’d been eating the flames out of, and the taste filled Miro’s mouth. It seared through Miro’s surface, its gel igniting with the spice and heat of the flame it’d memorized.

The alleyway lit up orange as Miro lit on fire.