Fear? Of course not! Why should he!
He felt his anger boil between his eyebrows and his vision, already veiled with precipitation, became misty with steam emanating from his heating skin; rain bubbled and squirmed madly on his feathers, all down his nape and the back of his knuckles. His body began to hiss.
Remain calm, he heard, and realized with a start that it was not Skaffwory's voice telling him so — it was his own. He gripped the branch and did not move until some of the hissing subsided. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling some water but also some air which, though it battered his insides, cooled him down as well.
But not completely. He began to see the red of his eyelids, and when he opened his eyes he saw that his fingers were outlined in smouldering light which left deep black imprints in the branch which quickly turned into ashy black mud that was whipped by rain into the storm. The impressions were deep. He'd never seen Skaffwory leave such deeply-burned furrows, and he thought Don't panic before the emotion itself could take hold of him. It was alright. He would bring Skaffwory in from the rain. She could still teach him control.
He only just managed to relocate the orange light, and then made his way for it. The sylphs were still working at him, but the heat was spreading evenly around his whole body and they hissed as they were repelled. The heat also dried the branches that he used to walk on, and evaporated the weight from his wings, so he was able to make his way with fair quickness, with no other obstacle than Skaffwory herself, who he saw now was perched on her favorite branch like a statue, her body hissing violently, motionless despite the fierce shaking of the branch by the winds. When Chimbeeriun put his hand forth to approach, his fingers closed more tightly around the branch than he thought it would, and he realized with horror that the branch, once the breadth of his waist, now had the diameter of his wrist.
"Skaffwory!" he yelled in terror, "Skaffwory, this branch is going to break!"
She didn't hear him. He started to spread his wings, but as soon as he lifted them from his back the wind caught them, and he was forced to grab desperately as the wind whipped him and the branch he was on up and down and diagonally.
"Skaffwory!" he screeched once the branch had stilled, and still she didn't move -- she was so hard of hearing nowadays — and with the wind and the rain — and that hissing — "Skaffwory!"
The firelight, which had been dimly emitting from beneath her talons, began to grow stronger, and the steam grew thicker, until he entire body was shrouded in steam. And from the hissing came another sound, more sibilant, more velvet, a sound that he too heard, but not through his ears — rather, through his veins, through every drop of his blood.
"Skaffwory," it called, and then, yet another voice —
"I'm here." Skaffwory's, weak, cracking. And then, in her elementalist's voice, "I'm here."
The mist began to thin into dense, tapered strokes which spiraled about her — it revealed her standing now, and the fire grew stronger, lit up the entire branch so it was like a vein of red-orange lightning paused and shaking up and down in space. The branch was completely engulfed — by salamanders.
Chimbeeriun saw them there, for the first time, in awe, the creatures of flame that he had never been able to see before — and now he couldn't imagine how he had missed them. Their bodies were vibrant, beautiful, flickering, twisty and film-thin like feathers, or then again fat and dense like droplets of coal. They writhed and moved and didn't stop, weaving between and into each other, becoming one another, devouring, separating, reaching, singing.
"Skaffwory — Skaffwory —"
In a voice that was simultaneously a squeak and a roar.
The branch shook, harder, and Chimbeeriun saw that the salamanders' dancing was eating at the branch. With a shriek he reached out, but then drew back — it was too hot — not even the storm with all its wind and water could put it out — what was he supposed to do? The song was getting louder, the dance becoming faster.
"Skaffwory," he said — he must have yelled it — but he couldn't hear his own voice anymore. Steam was beginning to emit again, from his wings, from his whole body. A few of the salamanders had noticed him with hot sapphire eyes and had twisted away from their own and moved to his branch, where they coiled beneath his palms and soles.
Chimbeeriun watched, helpless and filled with impossible warmth, as the dance reached its climax and the entire branch burst into high flames, embracing and taking away his mother with bellowed song and then damp, silent ash.
Remain calm, he heard, and realized with a start that it was not Skaffwory's voice telling him so — it was his own. He gripped the branch and did not move until some of the hissing subsided. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling some water but also some air which, though it battered his insides, cooled him down as well.
But not completely. He began to see the red of his eyelids, and when he opened his eyes he saw that his fingers were outlined in smouldering light which left deep black imprints in the branch which quickly turned into ashy black mud that was whipped by rain into the storm. The impressions were deep. He'd never seen Skaffwory leave such deeply-burned furrows, and he thought Don't panic before the emotion itself could take hold of him. It was alright. He would bring Skaffwory in from the rain. She could still teach him control.
He only just managed to relocate the orange light, and then made his way for it. The sylphs were still working at him, but the heat was spreading evenly around his whole body and they hissed as they were repelled. The heat also dried the branches that he used to walk on, and evaporated the weight from his wings, so he was able to make his way with fair quickness, with no other obstacle than Skaffwory herself, who he saw now was perched on her favorite branch like a statue, her body hissing violently, motionless despite the fierce shaking of the branch by the winds. When Chimbeeriun put his hand forth to approach, his fingers closed more tightly around the branch than he thought it would, and he realized with horror that the branch, once the breadth of his waist, now had the diameter of his wrist.
"Skaffwory!" he yelled in terror, "Skaffwory, this branch is going to break!"
She didn't hear him. He started to spread his wings, but as soon as he lifted them from his back the wind caught them, and he was forced to grab desperately as the wind whipped him and the branch he was on up and down and diagonally.
"Skaffwory!" he screeched once the branch had stilled, and still she didn't move -- she was so hard of hearing nowadays — and with the wind and the rain — and that hissing — "Skaffwory!"
The firelight, which had been dimly emitting from beneath her talons, began to grow stronger, and the steam grew thicker, until he entire body was shrouded in steam. And from the hissing came another sound, more sibilant, more velvet, a sound that he too heard, but not through his ears — rather, through his veins, through every drop of his blood.
"Skaffwory," it called, and then, yet another voice —
"I'm here." Skaffwory's, weak, cracking. And then, in her elementalist's voice, "I'm here."
The mist began to thin into dense, tapered strokes which spiraled about her — it revealed her standing now, and the fire grew stronger, lit up the entire branch so it was like a vein of red-orange lightning paused and shaking up and down in space. The branch was completely engulfed — by salamanders.
Chimbeeriun saw them there, for the first time, in awe, the creatures of flame that he had never been able to see before — and now he couldn't imagine how he had missed them. Their bodies were vibrant, beautiful, flickering, twisty and film-thin like feathers, or then again fat and dense like droplets of coal. They writhed and moved and didn't stop, weaving between and into each other, becoming one another, devouring, separating, reaching, singing.
"Skaffwory — Skaffwory —"
In a voice that was simultaneously a squeak and a roar.
The branch shook, harder, and Chimbeeriun saw that the salamanders' dancing was eating at the branch. With a shriek he reached out, but then drew back — it was too hot — not even the storm with all its wind and water could put it out — what was he supposed to do? The song was getting louder, the dance becoming faster.
"Skaffwory," he said — he must have yelled it — but he couldn't hear his own voice anymore. Steam was beginning to emit again, from his wings, from his whole body. A few of the salamanders had noticed him with hot sapphire eyes and had twisted away from their own and moved to his branch, where they coiled beneath his palms and soles.
Chimbeeriun watched, helpless and filled with impossible warmth, as the dance reached its climax and the entire branch burst into high flames, embracing and taking away his mother with bellowed song and then damp, silent ash.
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