When Winter Burns Away

Luke And Fire

White fog blew over the tall snow covered spruce trees, and among them, lay a village put to waste by the preceding blizzard. Snow slid down the broken rooftops and walls and gusts of wind made the doors creak.

Luke bent down, his knees were numbing by the snow, he picked pieces of wood up, as the snow on them melted when it touched his gloved hands. Standing up, his feet sank in the snow, the steel like wind blew through Luke's brown hair, it breezed past cooling his neck and sending shivers down his spine and making his hair stand on end.

He looked at the little mound of wood his dad had made, moved towards a bigger heap and tried to throw the pieces there. To his surprise, the splinters of one got into his fuzzy left glove and got stuck to it, he jerked his hand trying to remove it but to no avail.

A man in a huge winter coat walked by and threw more lumber into the pile, he noticed Luke and asked "Do you need any help" exhaling white fumes as he spoke. "No I'm fine" said Luke, removing his left glove from his reddish hand, then carefully removed the splinters from the wool, grabbed it with his bare hand and threw it, clattering the other pieces, he felt a warm tingling in his palm, he was bleeding.

He looked around as his pain intensified, then looked down, he sat down in the snow then planted his left hand in it, numbing the injury. He slid his hand back into his glove, sank his ankles in the snow, then treaded back on his own footsteps.

As he was walking beside the little stack of sticks, his dad called him. "C'mere Luke, sit beside me" as he waved his arm. "Coming" he said as he walked towards him and sat down. He patted his natural snow like hair.  "Stark, Jonathan, C'mere!" He called out. A brown haired boy a little older than Luke and the man who offered to help Luke came around and joined them.

"I heard an ice dragon was the cause of that blizzard." Said the older man as he made himself comfortable. His dad took out a shiny piece of metal inscribed with something from his yellow woolly jacket. "Ooo, that's magic, right uncle Samuel?" Asked Stark, the young boy. He held the piece of metal to the mound of sticks, while being absorbed in the conversation with Jonathan. A spark of light emerged from it and arms of glowing smoke emerged from the mound,it engulfed the sticks and warmed Luke's face.

Luke saw the adults removing their gloves and facing their palms towards the yellow-orange plume,so he did so too,the light danced and flickered and glowed.It had entranced him,he moved his hands closer to it while the others were in discussion,it warmed his hands and the winter took its weight off of the boys shoulder. He held his arms out, going closer and closer as it roared subtly and plunged his hand in it.

His hand warmed up, too much, it was like he held the noon sun in his palm, he shrieked and jumped back. His hand turned black, panting, he stared at the menacing dancing red flame as tears appeared in his eyes.