Cut your teeth on this [ANY]

[Longclaw]

Don't be afraid when the night wolves cry,
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.

No, not far at all. Warrick’s discovery is all that the fire wielder had needed and as he waits while the tide rises to slip over his back, the phoenix hovering on the other shore shrinks once more to the tiny tendril of flame it came from and flits back across the water to where Longclaw sways. “To swim, or …” He thinks, pondering over his abilities to determine the quickest method of travel from point A to point B. Time is pressing, someone is waiting, so he summons a great inferno beneath him and rises, boiling, to the surface of the water on an oblong, flattened slide of blue-white fire. Longclaw laughs at the sheer intensity of the heat, it’s incredible virility and willingness to bow to his thoughts, and surfs quickly enough above the frothing whitecaps of the sea until the other shore rises as a silhouette against the speckled night sky.

Buffeted dry by the wind and short of breath from his ride the shifter banks against the sand and stumbles awkwardly for a few steps before stopping completely under the bay’s wide eyes. His dancing blaze, devoid of purpose now, shrinks once more to the telltale wisp of flickering light and darts in an arc to levitate above them. In the eerie blue light it casts, the two stallions become wraith-like.

“I wasn’t sure if it would work!” The younger one exhales, a rare chuckle slipping past his ghostly lips. Their shadows sway together and the briny wind whips mane and tail alike, though Claw’s flame remains constant as ever. “My name is Longclaw, son of Wyrm and Heartfire in Nerine, twin to Rapture, and -” He breathes, chest swelling while his face drains of short-spent joy and hardens into youthful resolve, “- I intend to join Tephra, if you’ll have me.”

Longclaw