Girl of Fire: The Birth of a Fire Elemental

Part 1: Secret Gift

Light blossomed from Ci'erra's fingers. Warmth licked across her skin but didn't burn. Not as long as she focused.

Medaska slapped her hands so hard they went numb. "They'll catch you!"

Ci'erra glared at her older cousin as she sucked on her index finger. It stung enough she thought she might have burned herself like last time. But if so, it was Medaska's fault. Ci'erra's control was good enough she hadn't burned herself, or anything else, since the last great moon. Fingers stinging with a return of feeling, Ci'erra crossed her arms to tuck her hands against her sides as a draft of wind filtered through the loose stone where the moss waddle had eroded. The breeze was strong enough to brush her cheek and ruffle her hair.

"They'll come to take you away," Medaska said, voice hovering between stern warning and worry. "We need you to fix the nets and help ma fish the stream, not play with fire and sit in some temple."

"If the Priests come, I'll refuse to go." Ci'erra crossed her arms. No one would make her leave her home, not until it was time for her vwahalla when she would journey alone to the far lakes and return to a place as an adult amid the Valain.

Medaska snorted. She swept the one thin braid that emerged from the thatch of her short hair over her shoulder. One braid to prove she was a girl while the rest was hacked to barely an inch from her scalp so that it was easier to clean and less likely to catch in nets or spear as she fished, which was unlike Ci'erra's childish, long locks.

"Yes, a six-year-old girl telling a Priest she ain't going to leave these salt covered rocks for a life of fine cushions and nice jewelry will likely be obeyed." Medaska squinted at her through the faint light that filtered through the high, tiny window set in the earth and stone of the house.

Ci'erra giggled at the look on Medaska's face that mimicked Dagny, the old woman of the village of Valin.

"Get out ye," Medaska growled, waving her arms as if to flush stone birds to the air. "If ya'll not work, then d'not slow me."

Chased around the table in a game of wolf and fox, Ci'erra escaped the dark house by diving under the precious wooden table fastened from shaped driftwood and rolling out the door. Squealing in laughter, Ci'erra raced along the path at full tilt, balancing on the uneven rocks with easy familiarity despite the thick mist and speed. She left her older cousin behind to sharpen old fish hooks and shape new from the spool of metal wire.

From rough stone path to the tumbled boulders near the shore and river, Ci'erra dodged and wove between the stone and earthen huts, smelling the burning peat fires in one breath and the thick salt air in the next. Wind carrying cold salt spray lashed the shoreline. The air held so much dampness, Ci'erra thought it was raining. But when she ducked behind the massive boulders on the far shore of the river, the soaking chill eased. Rubbing wet, cold fingers, Ci'erra squeezed through the narrow slot between rocks larger than her parents' house.

Beyond the tiny, rough gap the ground dropped, and the space between the tumbled boulders opened into a wide chasm. Here in the sheltered vale, small trees grew amid hardy ferns above a floor of moss. This was Ci'erra's forest and refuge.

Ci'erra wove between small rocks and stunted trees to the center of the hollow. There, she'd peeled away the moss and lined the exposed earth with rocks, most of which were blackened or cracked now. But it wasn't for her little fire ring that she'd come to her hideout.

Taking a breath to focus, Ci'erra held out her open palm and whispered, "Seifa."

The air above Ci'erra's palm glowed red. Ci'erra held still, brows scrunched and barely breathing as she fumbled with strengthening her gift. In a burst, warmth flowed from her chest and down her arm. The faint glow became flame which reddened to the color of the setting sun as it uncurled. Spikes formed teeth and talons, a long swirl became a tail until a small dragon made of fire stood before Ci'erra, its spiked head reaching as high as her waist.