In the dream, he was trying to reach her. Using his hands to direct the flames Keenin pushed the sweltering fire aside and stepped forward to get to Tess who was obliviously shelving books while the fire ate away around them. Every time he stepped closer Tess would reappear further into the inferno.  

After a while of this Keenin felt as though he was being tricked and that she was simply leading him on so that she wouldn’t have to die alone. He tried to shout his complaints, but Tess's skin turned into the flames themselves until it wasn't Tess at all; only a faceless flaming figure. Keenin was certain that he could feel its gaze.

He awoke in a cold sweat and sat up, forcing Bodwin to take a step back. The fire in front of them had risen half as high as the trees. Terrified Keenin pushed away along the ground to a safer distance and the fire dwindled down until the blackened logs caved in on themselves. 

Keenin was left feeling cold. He sat staring at the evidence of his unnatural episode. Bodwin approached to wrap a blanket around his shoulders. He was suspiciously calm for a man who had been trying to wake him up because of the fire.

“How long was it like that?” Keenin asked. 

“Not long,” Bodwin told him. “You must have picked up an elemental fire spirit.”

“How-how do you know?”

He had not even known magic was real until that stupid white knight showed up in the village. Bodwin handed over a canteen of water. 

"Those vicious chickens that were on fire when we met," Bodwin explained. "I didn’t see a fire pit or a torch. And I’ve met a few people with lesser spirits. Were you having a nightmare?"

Keenin accepted the water, but didn’t drink.

“I thought my house was burning," Keenin said. "What if I do that again? Will we all be dead?”

“Nobody can cast magic in their sleep,” Bodwin said pouring a different canteen over the fire. “Your spirit was likely trying to get your attention because you haven’t played with it in a while. They like to show off.”

"Then how do you know I won't just light something on fire."

He didn't want to spend the rest of his life serving a greater cause or trapped in solitary confinement because he set things on fire.

"Oh, you'll be setting lots of things on fire," Bodwin explained gathering a new bunch of sticks for a fresh fire. "But only what you want once you get your elemental to agree.”

Great, Keenin thought.

Bodwin struck flint over the sticks to rekindle the flames. 

“I’m going to make breakfast. Why don’t you get water for some tea and clean yourself off while you’re there? There is a skinny river over that way just past the rock formations.” He pointed. 

Keenin inspected his appearance. He was a sorry sight to behold. His pants were in tatters and held up by a piece of rope, his hair was sticky with pine gum, and he was covered with dirt and pollen.

Keenin stood and followed the directions to the river. Bodwin must have come this way often because there was indeed a small river flowing with greenish water hidden behind the rocks. Keenin took hold of a nearby branch and dipped in his foot to test the depth. His foot squished deep into the mud and stuck. He had to hold onto one of the bushes by the bank to steady himself as he pulled against the suction of the mud. His foot came free and stepped onto a half buried rock along the bank. 

He decided to wash himself from there. He took off his pants and splashed the water up on himself until the dirt ran away. Getting the pine sap from his hair would be impossible without hot water so he would have to cut his hair with a knife. Keenin retrieved his pants and navigated his way back to their camp.   

Bodwin wasn’t there and neither was the traveling pack. Keenin had never thought about it, but maybe he would have left too if he learned his companion was a creepy magic user.

Keenin saw his small bag. When he went and picked it up, underneath were two fruit bars and a piece of scaled cocatrace skin. Seeing these made him both angry and confused. He shoved one of the bars into his mouth, put the other in his pack, and picked up the skin. The hide unfolded into a pair of pants in his size. 

Keenin's anger dissipated. He put on the new pair of pants. Not only did they fit perfectly, but they were complete with pockets and belt loops. He wouldn’t have to feel ashamed. He remembered his sticky hair and took out the knife Alaban had left him, but then thought better of it. Badly cut hair would make him stand out even worse.  It would wash out with orange juice.

Looking around the campsite one last time he spotted Bodwin’s obvious tracks and set off. It wasn’t long before he found the road. A group of men with bows were waiting there beside a cart. They set their eyes on Keenin when he appeared, making him feel awkward and small. These hunters, or guards, or perhaps merchants were not easy to pass. One of the men had a larger bow strung on his back and an indigo jerkin. He noticed Keenin and smiled.

“Kid,” the man said. “You were sold out.”

The words didn't quite sink in. And then…They did. In that split second he saw the hopelessly small boundary of his hometown, and he ran for it. 

He could hear the gossip, smell the washing soap, see his mother’s house.

And yet… 

His pack hit the ground hard in front of him as he caught his fall, his face coming close to chipped pebbles and orange pine needles. The wind had pushed him down.

“Do you think I left that path open?” the same man as before spoke.

Keenin hopelessly looked back to the mounted archers and that man. The wind had moved for him. 

“Why don’t you give it another try?” the wind user said. 

There’s a first for everything, Keenin told himself. If the fire spirit wouldn’t free him of this, then what good was it? He raised a hand, with a vague memory of how he had escaped the burning library. Flames responded to burn harmlessly around his hand as he imagined they would. Except the man in the distance remained untouched. Keenin had been so sure that the flame would bloom where he willed. 

“So that merchant wasn’t lying,” the man said. “You do have a talent with fire.”

Oh, no. Keenin felt his mistake. The man held out a hand of his own, palm up, and a perfect ball of flame burst forth above his palm.

“This is quite dangerous you know. If I didn’t have the element of wind and snuffed out the fuel for your fire, this would have killed me. ”

He closed his hand and snuffed out the orb of fire. 

“So. Are you coming?” the man asked. 

“No!” Keenin shouted. 

He had seen his opportunity. He lit the grass by the horses hooves and dashed for cover. The horse shrieked in terror. Keenin clumsily lit some more shrubs and trees to keep the other riders back, but next he knew the world dropped from under him. 

Keenin became vaguely aware of a throbbing in his head, the tickle of grass, the solid ground, and the presence of others. His body was so heavy. The wind user Judial lifted him by an arm and snapped a thin cuff around his wrist. Keenin's heartbeat fluttered in his chest.  

“Go to sleep,” Judial said. 

A flick to Keenin’s forehead dropped him into the dark.