Socks slept longer than Dirt did, but that was fine. Dirt was content to quietly lay there in his fur, enjoying the warmth and watching the sun play amongst the clouds that rolled across the sky. Again and again, his mind returned to the city. Humans must be complicated creatures, to have so many places and things they made.

The image of that twisted, tortured god still bothered him, but he could dismiss the memory a little more easily because he had promised to come back. And he would someday. And so much else had happened, he couldn’t just dwell on one thing.

That giant smoke monster still haunted him any time he caught a glimpse of a large shadow at the edge of his vision, but he was able to ignore that each time it happened because Father would protect him. Well, not him, but Father wouldn’t allow whatever that was to be here. So if Dirt managed to find another one, Father would surely chase it away again. Dirt just had to get away from it in time. In fact, maybe Father would be happy that Dirt found more so he could get rid of them all. Well, no, probably not. That didn’t sound right.

Dirt pulled out his knife and looked at it again, admiring the craftsmanship. It was like nothing else in nature. Not like the clubs the goblins used, or anything else. Dirt could imagine taking rocks and making them square to build with, and goblins using bones to hit things made perfect sense. He’d expected humans to be the same and just take things they found and use them, with perhaps some modification as needed.

But the knife was something else entirely. It wasn’t a part of nature, or something that you’d figure out from nature, like building with stone or wood. It was a thing of humans and only humans. Separate. Where did the metal even come from? And how did they shape it? There had been all kinds of metal objects down there—hinges and things, for example.

Why did they go through so much trouble when it was just fine living like Dirt did? That was the real question. Dirt felt like he understood his own kind less now, not more. Maybe someday he would see a bunch together and it would all make sense.

For now, Dirt was as happy as he could imagine anyone being. He gripped the knife tightly, admiring the feel of it in his fingers, then placed it back in the sheath and pressed it against his chest. The knife was a reminder of two things—one, that he was human, and humans were interesting and clever and talented. And much more meaningfully, he had this knife because Socks was his friend. Dirt would never have found that place otherwise.

The pup stirred beneath him, his mind filling with thoughts as he woke.

“Socks! I just had the best idea.”

-Let me wake up first.-

“Okay, but I’m going to tell you anyway. You know what you could do? You could lift me with your mind to the exact spot you want me to scratch. Then you won’t have to figure out how to twist around so I can reach.”

-For now you can scratch under my ear.-

Dirt grinned and crawled over. He dug his fingers in, scratching vigorously.

-You are very convenient.-

After only a few more spots, Socks decided that was enough. Dirt crawled to the pup’s back as he stood up, but Socks grabbed him and lifted him up higher in the air, shook himself vigorously from nose to tail, and set him down on the ground.

-We are not going anywhere just yet. First I will make fire.-

“You learned how from the lamps?”

-Brother can make big fire everywhere. He always could, even before he could open his eyes. But when I tried, I was trying to make it big like his and nothing happened. Fire can start small, though. I learned that from the lamps. I never saw small fire before that.-

“Will it get everywhere? I don’t want to get any on me,” asked Dirt nervously.

-No, we will run away if it gets too big and comes close. My fur will burn.-

Socks didn’t sound as confident as he probably wanted to, but if he said they could get away, then that was good enough.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Dirt stepped a few steps away and closed off his thoughts so Socks could concentrate. The pup’s body tightened in concentration and he stared unblinking into the little copse of trees and brush ahead of them. Nothing happened, even though Dirt could feel mana swirling.

Time passed without the appearance of any fire. Other things happened, though. The air pressure changed a little. Subtle waves of power shuddered through him, but didn’t affect the grass he was standing in. Socks gave a little whine, trying to stay focused through his frustration. Whatever he was doing wasn’t working.

The giant pup flopped to his belly and lay his head on the ground.

Dirt panicked a little. “Socks? Are you okay?”

-I am fine. I am not even tired. I am just annoyed. It isn’t working.-

“What were you trying?”

Socks sent him a mental image of what his plans were. He had been focusing on the trunk of the closest tree, looking at an old scar in the white bark and trying to imagine that burning.

Dirt stepped over and felt the spot with his hand, and found it hot to the touch, but not painfully so.

“Well, it was working a little. It’s getting hot.”

-It’s hard just trying to make it on fire, instead of picking it up.-

“Maybe you just need to try even smaller. Make something this small,” thought Dirt. He imagined a little spark in the air, hovering over his palm, and sent the image to Socks. Just one tiny little spark, smaller than Dirt’s little hand. A single point of light.

“Oh, and why not try putting the fire on something small first, too? Hold on, let me…”

Dirt pulled up some stalks of yellow grass, expecting that the brittle, dry stuff would burn easier because it was the smallest, lightest material he knew of. He crumpled it up in a pile and set it a few paces in front of Socks’ nose.

-The others would think this was funny. That will be a very tiny fire.-

“Then let them try and make a bigger one. Besides, haven’t little things served you well?” said Dirt. He patted the big pup on the nose.

-Fine.- Socks huffed, blowing the little ball of dried grass a few feet away. The pup caught it with his mind before it hit the ground and held it there, and almost immediately after, it filled with smoke. Socks leapt to his feet, eyes focused perfectly on the little ball of grass. An instant later it erupted into bright flame, then flared so bright Dirt blinked and looked away, and that was it. The fire winked out and a curtain of ash drifted down through the air.

Dirt cheered, shouting and raising his arms, but Socks said, -Quick, get me another one.-

He scrambled to break off more dry grass and wad it up in his hands. He threw it in front of Socks’ face. The pup caught it with his mind and soon it erupted in flames so bright that Dirt felt the heat from several paces away, despite the sunlight already warming his skin. It flared out even quicker than the first one and left nothing but drifting ash.

He didn’t need to be told again. Socks simply shot him an urgent look and Dirt gathered another clump and tossed it in the air, then started getting another one. And another, and another. Dirt quit even watching them burn, and instead tried to get as many into the air as he could.

Another, and another, and another. Socks didn’t send him any thoughts, or even think in words. He was too focused on making as many fires as he could while he got the hang of it. Dirt fed him more and more grass until he got his hands on a dry stick and tossed that.

Socks burned that one so fast it exploded, creating a fireball as big around as Dirt’s body from head to foot.

-WATCH!- shouted Socks, forgetting to be quiet. The word left Dirt’s head ringing and sore but he didn’t complain. He followed Socks’ gaze to the copse of trees.

Not one but twenty tiny fires erupted all throughout it, then twenty more. The entire copse went up in flames, from front to back. The twisting vines and brush cracked and spat and vanished in bright flames of yellow and blue.

Socks kept his eyes forward, focusing and forcing the flames higher and higher. It got so hot Dirt had to step back and hide behind the wolf, and even there he started sweating.

The pup turned his gaze to one side and a curtain of sparks appeared over the grass, which quickly ignited. Then the other side.

-I DID IT! Oh, sorry. I did it! Look, little Dirt. Look at all the fire around!-

“It’s getting too hot for me. Can we go back a little?”

Socks seemed to awaken from a daydream and realized just how much fire he’d made. He picked up Dirt with his mind and they retreated to a nearby hilltop to watch it burn.

The grass fires went out soon after, but the copse of trees burned for far, far longer. Long enough for Socks to get bored and leave. -Come, little Dirt. Let’s go back to the den and show Mother that I can lift you up now, and burn things.-

“Just not at the same time.”

Amused, Socks replied, -No, not at the same time.-

“Hasn’t she already seen it? Isn’t she always watching?”

-Probably. And Father has seen it, too, from atop his mountain.-

“Father is on a mountain?”

-A very tall one, because he likes the cold. He watches his territory from up there, if he is not hunting.-

Dirt wondered about that for a moment. Were all the humans gone from here because Father didn’t want them in his territory? Or had Father claimed it after they were gone?

He had learned one thing, though. Thinking about the distant past too hard made him less happy, not more.

“Socks, let me just say one thing.”

-What is that?-

“I want to sleep on the puppy pile tonight.”