One of those arriving early--by virtue of vast wings--was the dragon Bone. She was one of the few uniquely qualified to answer Herse's question, 'how does one burn,' and one of those few, too, who had retained their hatching element despite an innate and thorough link to the Hive.

Her thoughts came in answer, but with fond warmth to the new Child of the Hive. There are many ways, she informed it. Magic is one of them, but it's one I have--you do not. But I can burn things for you, whenever you wish. Just ask me to, she offered, a promise given mind-to-mind.

She thudded down carefully a little ways away, and--being very cautious of Herse's exact location, and the heat her breath put off--she inhaled. Her jaws ignited, a stream of flame pluming out to consume a nearby cluster of healthy plants. It was a demonstration as much as an actual use. Her focus would, for much of this excursion, be more on spreading fungus and protecting her Hive-mates than burning more patches of land--but it was an answer to the snail-creature's question.

Yes. I can burn more. And yes, it hurts. Be careful of it, she warned. As to the rest--someone else would answer. It wasn't that Bone did not want to; it was that she was amiably comfortable with the ongoing, many-threaded link, and knew someone else would fill in the gaps better than she could.

Rarely did Ace operate in silence unless absolutely necessary. A voice of brass, ever since breaking free from his first chrysalis he'd believed himself a herald of Mother's army. Most of their enemies pathetic at flight, so easy was it to rain the glories of Order and the failures of Chaos upon their empty heads. If any dared to try sniping him out of the air, his perfect design swept him out of the path of their magic before their aim could come even remotely close to being true, and just as swift he'd follow up his expert dodging with countless barbs and jeers. Forget those instances where a certain mouthy blade had zapped and bound him into grudging submission; freak accidents that wouldn't happen for another hundred cycles if he had a say in the matter.

To find his mouth shut once, twice, and then thrice upon drawing in breath to bellow was a surprise, Mother having never interfered in his fun in the past. At first aggravation had sparked within him after the latest of these stillings of his tongue, evident in the glare that emerged in his red eyes once the glassy sheen faded away from them. But little more than a gentle request from his creator eliminated resistance, her love smothering it before his temper could fully flare.

Patience was required for the sake of his family. A guard operated best when he could swoop upon his opponent as quiet and unexpected as death often crept.

Understandable, but her orders indicated nothing about how well and loudly he filled in his fellow Hive members of his flight pattern through Order's usual communications. At regular intervals, he informed the network of any potential hostiles his eye caught. Mostly, though, he watched the others work. Occasionally contributions came as well, the task of gathering fungus to spread trivial when they grew so much to spread.

Those aren't for decoration only, right? Ace queried, snickering, at Talus' unfortunate faceplant. Come on, use them if you're going to fall! They're meant to be stabilizers, not weights to drag you down.

A bit of advice wrapped up in snide remarks. The child was free to accept it or toss it away. He didn't exactly care too much how it was taken, but at the very least if this one could actually fly, the Hive would benefit better from a second-rate aerial fighter like Bone than someone who could barely qualify as third-rate.

Taking a break from his patrol for a bit of seeding the land himself, wings were drawn closer to his sides and Ace plummeted toward a scorched patch of earth. Forelimbs coated in fungus dug trenches in the soil. Friction broke off clumps of the insidious growth as he swooped along to fall within them, far from what anyone would perceive as an ideal gardening technique.

Then, of course, the crowing started as he ascended again. Another strike for the Hive! Those Oily morons won't have enough eyes, mushed brains, or dripping tentacles to burn out all of these.