The heavy heat swept through the forest like an invisible fire. It faltered the travelling groups steps, as did the destroyed landscape probably caused by a thunderstorm, and made their journey slow immensely. In comparison, Ebskil remained spritely, acclimatised to the endless summers of his home. He watched them from the treetops, jumping and swinging on branches, without alerting them of his following

Just checking they aren’t attacked, he convinced himself the day after they left. He told no one except Ora and his mother of his sudden adventure. Or to check they didn’t harm our tribe. That is all this is. When they reach the river, I’ll leave. However, deep down, he didn’t trust himself or his growing curiosity.

Within minutes of sitting with them two nights ago, he felt more welcomed than he did in his own tribe. They accepted him despite thinking he was cursed. It confused him. Who did that? Even he had been cautious of them on their first encounter. Who were they? Where did they really come from? What phlames did they have? And how many phlame styles existed?

The last questions interested him the most. He heard stories of different lands developing other phlames. In the forest, he only saw green powers used to either heal the earth or provide greater strength in battles. However, the aqua phlame Reefer manipulated played in his mind. What did it do? She didn’t throw any rocks with it like his tribe. If he recalled, dirt swirled in the tentacles of it, so it didn’t have great power because it moved small objects. Opposite of that, the mountain clan’s phlame, vibrant blue, shared similar properties to the green forest phlame. Yet, it was not the same either as it made those blades in Wildem’s hands grow. The tribe's green phlame didn't change their weapons. Then what about the other member of the group? Ebskil saw no phlame from him. Were they the same? Was he ‘cursed’ too?

You are only making them get to the river safety. He couldn’t leave his tribe after the devastation which occurred. Right? But staying meant facing his brother, who learnt he had no phlame. How did he explain that? What if Momil told everyone else? How did he convince his tribe that, without a phlame, he could still be a hero? He couldn't. A phlameless person brought bad omens and destruction. At least deep in the forest, he had time to prepare for the dreaded conversations.

The travelling trio came to a halt, agreeing on a solution for the rising complains spouted. Ebskil looked down to see them covered in sweat and snacking on his gifted dried meat while sitting on a large, protruding root. He took this as his signal to copy; he snaked his way down the tree tops and found a patch of forest floor to rest. This, of course, was hidden from view of the strangers by bushes speckled with orange berries.

“No spots to make you stop,” he murmured, repeating his tribe’s mantra for inquisitive children. Unworried, he plucked them, then popped one into his mouth and relished the burst of sweetness. “Pray to the god it isn’t poison. Killed by berries would be more humilating than discovered phlameless.”

A tiny boarisk rustled the bushes as it approached him. It stood at a similar height to Ebskil’s knees and shook its dirty, straw-like fur. After a guttural sneeze, it looked at the berries accumulated in his hands with innocent, dilated eyes.

“Ya sweet thing,” he said and extending his full hand.

The creature cautiously stepped closer and it made Ebskil smile. A warm feeling rushed through his body; the mountain clan saw the forest tribe as savages, yet he was proud of the strong bond they had with animals. As if sensing his gentle nature, the boarisk mustered up enough bravery to steal the berries. Unspoken trust grew between them. Animals are no different to us, his mum once said. They want a full stomach and comfort. Kindness extends passed humans.

“Where’s ya mam?” Ebskil asked as he stroked the pup, careful to avoid the lined horns on its face. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. Hot day, a pup the size of a year-old boarisk and the ripped up land all signalled something terrible. “Don’t tell me…”