Something was off. It was the middle of winter, dammit. Who was setting things on fire, and how on earth was it still burning amidst the packed, wet snow and ice? Never one to leave things alone, Iset picked her way though the white blanketed underbrush in search of the source of these strange flames.
At the heart of the smokey air was a boy. About her age, but quite a bit larger; obvious even from his prone position on the ground. She cocked her narrow head in curiosity before drawing back behind the cover of the trees, desperately eating up every minute and specific movement the boy made. He hadn’t yet seen her; of this she was sure. The heavy cloud of smoke surrounding him was just enough to mask her presence and disguise her scent as a mere abnormality of the flame.
As she watched, a tendril of fire slowly emerged from the scattering of the leaves and grass that had settled beneath their hooves long before the snow had fallen. He seemed to be…controlling it somehow. She though back to Brennen and Ryan and even Amet with their ‘traits’ as they called them.
This must be another one.
And it was pretty damn awesome.
What appeared to be brown eyes (though she cannot see well enough through the haze to be sure) sharpen in a focus she had never seen matched in anyone or anything before, especially in someone so young. Slowly and cautiously, the strip of heat curves in on itself, rolling into a tight ball and seeming to gain confidence along with size. It rose higher and higher, now well over both of their heads.
Cautious eyes flew back to the colt lying in the brush, and Iset began to worry. If the fiery orb was given permission to lick at the trees as it was so striving for, would she be able to get out in time? She couldn’t leave Sakir again. It simply wasn’t an option. At this same time however, she was frozen in place, a stiff contradiction to the ball of flames that were writhing an changing above her.
Before she could open her mouth and tell the boy that enough was enough, that he was going to hurt someone, he commanded the tongues of flame to come crashing down around them, sending the water that had saturated the leaves and twigs into a frenzy of steam, trying their best to escape the heat.
By the time the cloud of vapor had cleared, she saw that he was on his feet, and was even bulkier and taller than she had previously estimated. His breathing was labored and a groan fell from his lips, evidence of the feat it had been to have instructed the flames as he did.
Having had quite enough of staying quiet and polite, Iset drew herself up to her full height and went crashing as ungracefully as she possibly could through the noisy undergrowth. “You know,” she began, a sort of no-nonsense bossiness accompanied by threads of wonder coming through in her tone, “I know a boy who can turn into a panther. And he can change colors,” she states matter of factly, thinking once more to Ryan. “And one stallion I know has wings. Big black ones,” she informs.
After a beat, her curiosity overcomes her once more and she speaks again before waiting for him to respond to her previous statements. “Do you control it completely? It looks like it got a little out of hand there for a while,” unaffected by her own rudeness, Iset simply watches the boy, awaiting his response to her prying questions.
there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying
isetI should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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