Loki's language skills, along with his fire, were still subpar. He watched Dread, and the burning (heh) questions within him were difficult to put words to--but he tried, regardless. "Why is my fire... dark? -Not bright?" he corrected. His breath was hot, yes, but it was only air. There was none of that crackling sound, nor bright orange brilliance to it.

To demonstrate, he waddled over, exhaling on another (comparatively) teensy patch of mold.

His breath shimmered with heat, and he felt it in his chest, but-... nothing. There was no bright color or visible flame. He peered up at Dread, puzzled; even the mold, though it had withered into ash, wasn't really "aflame."

...For that matter, why was the dragon surrounded by glowing embers and shimmering heat? Was that just a matter of learning, too?

Loki waddled over, watching closely, his head tipping rapidly from one side to the other.

Okay. Flames crackled, blazing so brightly that the black raven was ignited in a bright orange glow. Okay, I can do that. I can do that! he thought, excited. But trepidation was hitting him, too. Hot breath already burned his throat and tongue. How bad would fire be-?

But he steeled himself. If Dread could do it, then he could, too. Surely the dragon would've warned him, if it were that bad?

Loki turned, sharp gaze travelling over the nearby forest before picking out a bush that was caked in white. His heart hammered in his tiny chest, fear and excitement warring. He could do this. He paused a few feet in front of it, studying the way the clotted fungus hung--and then turned his head, again examining Dread's flames as they danced across the collapsing tree.

He looked to the bush again.

He just had to-...

A calculating stare. A deep inhale. He thrust his head forward, imitating the way the dragon moved, his black beak snapping open, and-...

IT WORKS! Blazing heat--nothing like Dread's, but now crackling with brilliant light--shot forth, lancing the bush enough to ignite it. Then-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he squawked, leaping backward. Okay--yeah, that HURT. The raven turned, rapidly buring his beak in the cold dirt--and that didn't help, so he jerked away and did it in a different patch, like that might make the difference-

Loki leapt from point to point, slamming his face into the ground in a horrified attempt to quell the burning that had so badly seared his throat. Behind him, his fire blazed... but the pain had been a rite of passage he'd not been warned about at all.

Loki hadn't heard any swearwords, yet. If he had, he'd have been croaking them desperately despite the pain. His wings battered the ground as if to somehow distract himself, maybe, in frantic flapping.

He never wanted to do this again-... So how was the dragon doing it over and over?! He eventually looked up, water dripping from agonized eyes, and stared in jealousy, awe and horror at the next blast of fire.

He could not do that. Well. Dread said it "got better." And--water?

Water.

He could use water right now. Yes. Good. Water-

Loki ruffled his feathers and managed to speak, though it was through a cracking, damaged voice. "Thanks. Will go-... water." He then glanced around. He'd used his wind magic once or twice--just a gust of warm air. He could do that now, use it as a last little blast to spread Dread's flames (and his own) a little further into the infested zone. It'd magnify both their attempts, without taking more "burning his flesh away" pain to do so.

He lifted off, flapping his wings a few times--and the burst of air came from below, buffeting him forward and bolstering the fire. It wasn't really strong, but... he was distracted by the pain. That was his reason, at least; but his focus was now on finding water.

A few minutes later, he'd left Dread behind, and after some circling, wound up crouched ankle-deep in one of the creeks of Eridanus. It was warmer than usual but Loki didn't know that, and didn't care--he was too busy gulping it down in desperation. After awhile he sat back, panting.

It still hurt, but... he'd done it! He'd breathed fire! It would take time to heal, he could feel that. But he could do it! The bird sat back, feathers ruffled. He'd rest for a few minutes... just a few. And then he'd head somewhere safe.

Just a few minutes more...

...then his eyes had slid shut, and Loki drifted into brief but blessed sleep.