The Fires of Tranquility [Rook]

Fire. So destructive and merciless. I like fire, I relate to fire. Fire isn't something you can control, merely something you begin. Those who are foolish enough to try to control fire get burned, those who do nothing to stop it's wrath are equally as stupid. Finding that medium, that equilibrium between control and tolerance is the secret to mastering fire.

Me? I don't have the patience needed to control fire or learn it's ways. I'm not like that stupid blacksmith, I don't master it for my own gain. Sure, Wednesdae is talented in what he does - He doesn't just control fire, but molds it into whatever he wants. He taught me basic blacksmithing, but he grew impatient with me, he said I was impure and aggressive. I wasn't good enough for the perfect Wednesdae Drummond. He taught me fire, then cast me out of his workshop. The fool. He knows I'm a sadist.

I'm not in the forest to deem revenge on the Drummond boy. No, he cares not for me burning down a few trees... I will get one back on him someday, but not today. Today I stand in these woods hoping to cause chaos... Because I love chaos. My eyes crave chaos. Screaming children and writing animals. I imagine them all burn and it brings a wicked shark-grin to my face.

Just one fire. Just a small one. Burn one tree down, hear the rodents that live inside squeal, hear the yells of the villagers not too far away. See the smoke rise, like a beacon of panic. Oh, I love it. I live for it. I am the calm among the frightened and I will walk out a lone figure, proud of my destruction... Because that's who I am. Destruction.

I used the friction of rough looking sticks to start a small fire - Just like Wednesdae had taught me. Green leaves made smoke, whilst wood kept the fire burning hot and smoke to a minimum. I grab a few sticks, wrapping them together in some string from my rucksack. Carefully and precisely I light the end of the batch in the campfire, creating a torch that I hold in one hand. I stamp out my tiny fire and walk deeper into the woods with my firestarter.

I need to pick a tree. I forage for a while, turning down several scrawny looking trees that seem not worth the effort. There has to be something worth burning down. And then I see it. A family of squirrels. I say family, it's more like two rodents sniffing each other on a branch, high-up the tree next to me. A dark grin plagues my face as I decide that this tree will burn.

"Jah nat ghanna wanna do dat boi. Put out dat torch or imma gonna drop you wit mah bow. Da price of nature es much greata dan da price of your life and mine." Booms a voice of authority. It jumps me, takes my breath away and makes me panic for a split second. My eyes dart around, the words came from above. A bow? I'm in danger? The protector of the forest is near. I'm in his area? He sounds old and wise, yet I can't see him. He must be agile to be up in the trees, no wonder he doesn't want me burning them down.

"Now I know you gotta be in a pritty bad place rite now in orda to be doin whatcha doin but you gotta keep your head on your shouldas in a times like these." He continues, my eyes lock onto the direction of the voice, and I catch a glimpse of shadow. Eyes bleed at me through the leaves, stabbing danger midst imminent chaos. I see no bow, but I don't want to risk it not being there. He'd most likely shoot me down before I tried anything.

I put my cool head on. I'm in charge here - I have the fire and I'm the one who could kill not only him, but animals and wildlife too. Even if he shoots me down, the fire could still catch. I smirk, looking in the direction of the voice.
"I can't understand a damn word you're saying, man..." I poke fun at his strange accent, even though I got the gist of his message, "How can I take you seriously when you're hiding up there?"

I feel in control, which brews a very different kind of a fire. A fire that starts as a spark inside me, but then fills me with it's inferno - Confidence.

Where are you? Huntsman of the forest. Intrepid warrior of the woods. He cares enough about this sacred sanctuary to threaten the life of anyone who endangers it. Obviously I'm a direct threat - A virus in his ecosystem. He's seeking to destroy this plague, directly threatening me with his bow.

His stealth annoys me. Like a shade he becomes one with the dappled kaleidoscope shadows that engulf the ground and trees. I stare at the spot when I last sighted him and I know that he has moved. I no longer see glimpses of retina bleeding from above. He has moved, like a true hunter. I'm not instinctual like he is. I don't know what he's up to, if he's sneaking up behind me or moving to a better vantage point, but I do know that he's on the prowl, and that's bad news for me.

"Look bruhddah, I'm on the ground now, don't let your eyes try to search for me dis time either. Keep in the direction ya facing or jah ganna find dis arrow attractive, and by dat I mean very close to heart."