Stir the coals

Basilisk cracked open an eye the moment he felt Ignita wiggling gently against his grasp. He watched her through that tiny crack, feeling no urge to rise just yet. He was sleeping better these days, the scent and feel of Ignita was like a balm. She moved about the den, and was quick to duck out of the cave without so much as a backwards glance.

He groaned and stretched out his long limbs, yawning into the still dark of the early morning. He had things planned for the day. Along with his patrols and general duties, he was going to take Ignita aside and start her training. Properly this time. He wasn’t going to give up on her.

He left Ignita’s den (or was it there's, now?) and found the little fire girl by the Obelisk, tending to the central fire. That fire had meant a great deal to his Grandfather. He claimed it had never gone out since he became Warlord. He had carried a torch from the old lands to this one, and lit it from the same fire. He stepped up beside Ignita, stopping next to her to kiss her cheek. “Ready to start your training?”

"Basilisk" | "Ignita"