7. Flames Licking Heels

As the crowd of animals fled the hungry fires, they found energy and breath to remark a special sight to behold. Or perhaps they latched onto it precisely because they thought they were about to die.

Firebirds. The beautiful creatures flocked together, by the dozens, by the thousands, and then came down to flutter around the fires. Their wings did not seem to move at all, but they had clear power and control, both in the air and on the ground. One especially radiated eternal beauty and strength.

The birds were a pretty useless fire brigade, Prebuha thought, as they merely sat around the flames. They sang at it, and warmed their feathers as if this was their version of beauty sleep.

Of course, dear reader, she did not use the word ‘fire brigade’ specifically, for that didn’t exist yet. Animals had rarely encountered fire before, and if so, ran away. Only predators came back soon, or easy prey: whoever just died in the flames. To them, giving animals the job to stay around and fight fire was like giving someone the job to teach fishes how to walk on land. Now that they THOUGHT they could control and create fire, the invention of fire stations wasn’t far on the horizon, I can tell you.

Soon, the singing from the firebirds overtook the regular crackles and sudden explosions of fire eating through trees. As they ran past, the firebirds blurred into one large colorful path telling them where not to go, for there be fires. They didn’t seem scared themselves, flying away whenever a fire was too greedy, and Prebuha’s jealousy of the birds lit up inside her once more.

The firebirds provided another great warning sign: if a jaguar came close, they’d all suddenly fly back into the air. Without actually seeing one of them, the group could judge where to run to stay out of their claws.

The fire had swallowed at least two thirds of the forest. An entire day had come and passed.

If fighting it felt hopeless before, now it felt like a solution locked inside a vault on some planet far away. For all the beauty of the firebirds, Prebuha couldn’t help notice the abundance of charcoal carcasses just behind the fires. The number of lives lost made Feria cry endlessly; and she prayed Eeris, Goddess of Flora, would never even hear of this event.

That’s when Prebuha’s group collided with the customers of Dilova’s restaurant.

Fiante greeted them warmly, and winked to support his joke. His eyes shone bright and he could almost walk without support. Today was a good day.

“But is it the best day?” wondered Dilova. “A few days ago, he seemed even brighter.”

She flew overhead and landed near the family of foxes. They quickly confirmed their son was the sorcerer she sought.

And then the doubt settled in. A nervousness that made Dilova pull out a few of her own feathers. A clapping of her beak as if she was saying a lot, but in actuality, she was silent for many many heartbeats.

“I want to request … I have …”

Fiante leaned against a tree and dozed off, seemingly ignorant of the approaching fires.

Dilova sighed and turned away. No, today was not good enough.

“Well, come back when you know what to say,” said Permiox matter-of-factly.

Prebuha followed Fiante’s example and tried to let her exhausted, nearly roasted body rest. Just for a bit. Juuuust for a little moment, then—

Then what? They hoped the fire would magically stop? Even after it consumed the entire Forest of the Fallen, and poor Tresmo, it might just … continue.

Prebuha fell to the floor, studying the undergrowth as her thoughts mingled.

Those jaguars. Still angry about something done to them, they claim, so long ago that Prebuha hadn’t even heard of it and Mamotas hadn’t read about it in any clay tablets. The cycle never ended.

Already she heard animals claiming the foxes were now to blame for the fire, and they’d get revenge on them for losing their homeland, or loved ones. The deer merchant that had saved her earlier complained about lost goods and that someone had to pay.

Feria was on her hind paws, trying to soothe these worries, while preventing a war breaking out between their favorite godchild—which, in a forest, was usually Eeris—and the foxes of Feria.

“Why are we chased by monstrous felines, Prebuha?” asked Mamotas, a studious Gosti that now sat down next to her. “I smell a juicy secret story here that you never told me before!”

“There isn’t one,” said Prebuha. “It’s just same old, same old. Some bacteria made a mistake a million years ago, congratulations, everyone will forever keep trying to take revenge or conquer each other.”

“There has been peace for a while in these forests,” said Mamotas. “Much longer than it ever existed back in Sumiser, when every city had its own revered king, who always thought they were incomplete if they didn’t own all the cities. Here, everything belongs to the same family of gods. And since they invented city states, after the nasty business with Dracs and all, everyone has a vote within their own territory.”

“Is it? Are the godchildren still one family?” whispered Prebuha. “Every city state has a different throne as its capital. With a different god on top, with different opinions.”

Her heart broke at her own words. It was so long ago that her own civilization of Harap had cast her out. Forced her to be completely alone for weeks, almost dying, and Mamotas saved her then. That feeling of standing alone … of being betrayed by your own kind … it still woke her up at night.

She had been selfish for dragging everyone to the sorcerer. Just because she wanted to stay strong and pretty forever. She could hear the rumors—it had almost lost her the tribe again.

“Please, everyone, calm down,” said Feria, surrounded by nearly a hundred angry, scared, trapped, overheated animals. “I decide that we don’t try to stop the fire. Saving life is more impor—”

“Well that’s the problem isn’t it?” shouted the deer merchant. “You decide. Not the animals that are burning. Not the animals that lived in these woods, claimed these woods, battled rainstorms by the Chiefclouds, long before you even knew we had a sentient tree.”

“Don’t think I didn’t know. Don’t assume I don’t care.”

“Knowing about this forest, and letting it burn anyway, simply proves you gods don’t care.”

“Then who should make the decisions?” said Feria, watching the fires in her peripheral vision in distrust. “You? Prebuha? Tresmo?”

“No single being should,” said Prebuha. “We should negotiate. Trade. Reach a compromise everyone can live with. It worked for Harap, for thousands of years.”

“Until it didn’t work anymore, deer,” said the merchant bitterly.

“Deer deer!”

“I will fight those branchbending fires,” said Prebuha, standing up. She just would not accept it. Companionship, family, brotherhood, sacrifice for compromise, it had to be how to prevent the major war against the godchildren that was brewing. “You can all flee. I will stay behind, with whomever joins me, to try and save what can still be saved. Because that’s what you do for family. "

Only crackling and crickets.

Alix stepped forward. “I offer my services in this negotiation. I can teach you all how fire works, how heat energy works, and how to combat it better. We can improve our tools, also against the Jagu tribe. In return, I merely ask that you never blame the godchildren or all foxes for this fire.”

“I will stay too,” said Dilova, hopping forward while supporting her father. “There’s a blastfeathered rare sentient tree right there! He has a name, Tresmo! And we’re discussing whether to let him burn alive? What fate could even be worse, I ask, I do?”

“I can think of a few things,” mumbled Prebuha, nodding at a drooling Fiante.

Jaguars cried and stomped in the distance. The spread of fire was hard to follow, as almost no obstacles stood in its way anymore. They couldn’t hear the words that Tresmo spoke, but they could feel the minor earthquakes his voice in the distance produced.

A decision had to be reached.

“A last stand it is,” said Feria.

“Deer deer.”

Alix jumped on top of the largest stone. He gave a lecture to a very impatient but very interested class.