the joy of fire and pain

[Kushiel]

My mother is overly attached to the Valley. I will be overly attached to no one and no thing. She is foolish to cling to a land, rather than go where the action is happening. These are my thoughts as I enter the Chamber. I didn't actually intend to come here, but why not? I don't know if I'll stay. I can't say I've been welcomed with open arms anywhere else anyways. If a horse sees the flamelings that sometimes line up on my back, it's a good bet I'm oh so politely asked to move on. I can control the flames. I really can. But I like it better if no one knows that. Why betray an advantage? Everything is an advantage waiting to be used. I can't create flame, but it isn't horribly difficult to find a wildfire. I've traveled days to get to the source of smoke clouds, for those times when I've fallen too deeply asleep to keep the flame I've gathered alive. I don't know why I have this particular gift or curse or mutation, call it what you will. From my understanding my father had a great many abilities, and my mother has mind reading (imagine being the child of an omniscient parent for a moment, please) and wings to keep her occupied. Me? I might burn down your home. Whoops. I bank the flames so they blend better with the ashy gray of my coloring. I began life as a bay but as the years have passed, dapples and graying have occurred. I'm not old, somewhere between five and seven (I don't keep track), but I feel old. LIke centuries of knowledge have been stuffed inside my head. The dark blackish brown of my mane and tail have assorted burs in them, but no twigs. Twigs don't last long around me. I halt casually near the borderland of the Chamber. I know the etiquette. I am also not afraid. Come find out why.