Ren grinned without looking up. "He hasn't roasted anyone yet. But the day is still young."
"I'm not throwing a fireball," Lindarion said.
Meren leaned back slightly. "Yet."
'Why do I talk to them.'
The warmth from the flame had spread just far enough to keep the worst of the cold from sinking in. Not enough to make anyone sweat, but enough to get fingers moving again. That counted.
He adjusted the flame. A flick of his wrist made it stretch taller. The heat pulsed out softer this time, like a breath.
No one commented. They just relaxed a little deeper into the stone around them.
Outside, snow still fell sideways.
The wind clawed at the mouth of the hollow, but it couldn't quite reach in.
Lindarion leaned back until his shoulder pressed against the rock behind him. It felt like leaning into the spine of the mountain itself. Cold and unbending.
Lira finally shifted.
