Bone hesitated.

"Honestly, I'd rather not do it to the bats," she answered. "I think fire's a little cruel to hunt with, whatever Dad does. And anyway, he always says to stay away from the bats," she reminded Svartis. Dread shuddered whenever the little things were mentioned, bellowing about "sickness." "Maybe we can test on something stationary, first? Like, uhh... find another dead tree down the Gorge, and both hit it in passing?" she suggested, uncertainly.

All else aside, she hated to appear weak in front of her brother, but her guilt trip about burning a herd of deer alive (potentially, at least) still lingered. "For hunting, eh... fire's not a good way to go. And I'm not confident enough with it yet that I won't--you know, botch it."

Bone listened, and then nodded, thrusting herself up into the air again. A powerful shove of hind legs--a leap, and then the beating of heavy wings.

"If we're going to practice as if it's real, I should follow your lead," she said, thoughtfully. "Because if we're going to do this in a fight, it'll be me following you, and I'll have to be ready for your hit. So go ahead, and I'll follow, and try to hit it up after you do. Whatever 'it' turns out to be."

She lifted a little higher and then tensed, preparing for this rather strange variety of practice; but who knew? Perhaps it would work.

She could only hope that this would all pay off.

Bone came in sharply behind him.

When Svartis' tail ruddered, so did hers, albeit not as hard--her heavy club made hers a little more... effective in altering her flight trajectory, and it didn't do to overuse its momentum. First his black form dove into the crevice, and then hers, white, following: two blinding-fast opposites coursing through the ravine.

She watched his movement carefully, weaving slightly to and fro in a vaguely opposite maneuver from his so that she could do her best to see what lay beyond him. This was already a learning experience--if they were going fast, and in a line, she'd be hard-pressed to know what lay ahead until they were right on top of it. As a result she saw the tree--in brief glimpses past his wings and legs--just before he cried out; she was just prepared to react in time. She slowed, though he barely did, his frost-breath slicking their target; and Bone inhaled as Svartis shot past it, dropping to make her own pass.

Burn this, she thought, her eyes locked firmly on her target. She had only a half a second or so to strike; her speed would carry her beyond too quickly otherwise.

It was not perfect: but it hit, the white dragon sweeping lower, her flame coursing around the tree and past it. Most of the breath missed, charring the ground behind the tree, but she hit it enough to ignite it, at least, and-

"SHIT!"

Her attention had been on the tree, and she hadn't realized that Svartis had turned to watch behind him; Bone pulled up just in time, heavily-beating wings laboring to carry her over him instead of crashing into him. She then turned, herself, much slower and less agile than he, to sort of air-trundle her way back to him.

The tree had been frosted, and then set aflame; her fire had caught on it.

"Don't stop, when we do this for real... circle, maybe," she called out to him, amused. There wasn't much room for that in the Gorge, though, and she knew that. "I think we make a good team, though, no-? No tree will stand a chance." There was humor in her tone, though faint pain in her voice--the burns still ached. "I think my mouth needs a rest, for now, Svartis," she added, on that front--and dropped down to land, and dip her jaws into the cooling stream.

Bone snorted, lifting a little higher.

"I can see it now, 'WHERE'S DAD, I WAS GOING TO PROTECT HIM,'" she laughed, good-naturedly imitating the kid's voice. She then shook her head. "You go on. I've sort of worn myself out, too. I'll let him know," she added.

And then, after a second snort in response to 'fire hazard,' she called after her brother--"YEAH, YEAH, ICE-FOR-BRAINS." Not-... the greatest comeback in Gembound history, but Bone thought it was pretty good.

All things considered, anyway.

She turned and banked upward, heading toward the den; and after that--given how tight space was up there--she'd find her own broad and well-lit place to rest.