Fireheart had been given very specific directions, and he had followed them to the letter. The wolf pushed his way through the mist, now, an hour into Cetus; his white legs were stained black with mud, brush tail raised out of its liquid grip.

He skirted the edge of the black lake, though it was hard to tell precisely where its borders lay, at times; broken clumps of earth, thickly-covered in reeds and long swamp grass, were marbled with still and silent streams of dark water. It was a honeycombed landscape, and sometimes he sank deeper, struggling back out, before realizing he'd gone too far into the lake itself, too far from shore. He'd followed his nose, for a time, seeking the rotten food pile he'd been told to watch for, but still he found nothing.

"DRAGON?" he called, his voice growing hoarse now, though its deep timbre still carried. A cough, and a pause, the wolf's muzzle dipping low, the tongue flicking out to lap at the lake-water. It wasn't terrible, but there was an old and fishy taste to it, a muddy stagnancy that spoke of swamp long left undisturbed. He shook himself, grimacing, and turned to point his snout upward, instead, focusing on the mist.

A brightly phosphorescent wisp--his own form of ignis fatuus, but less... potentially deadly--burst into bright existence above him, a bright, strong guide. He sent this out ahead of him, a blazing signal in the dark, one that lit the fog brightly in all directions, despite being dimmed by it at its center; and this he followed, trudging along beneath it and behind.

The thump of wings alerted him to something coming, and for a moment he froze, and faltered, tensing down and staring up. His mind raced through possibilities, and he fought to swiftly raise a shield before him.

Pride had said nothing about Dragon flying, so this was unlikely to be him; he'd been very clear that Dragon was some sort of swimming lizard. Nothing came in terms of a shield, and Fireheart scrabbled and cursed quietly in the mud, at a loss. Yet the thing that came into view, despite being swathed with bloodied magic, scarred and ancient-looking, wet and battered, lowered itself down with no sign of aggression, and spoke.

Fireheart blinked, and relaxed, standing upright once again, and bowed his head, briefly. "I apologize for disturbing you, if I've done so," he offered, to begin with, and then cleared his throat. "My name is Fireheart. I've come from Orion; I recently joined the Seven, and I seem to have some affinity with fire. Pride suggested I seek you out for tips. He said that you're the best," he added, matter-of-factly. "I don't mean to intrude, and of course I do not ask for aid right this moment--but if you are interested, perhaps I might come here, from time to time, for training-?"

It was all very politely said, or at least his tone was polite; he hoped he wasn't being too formal for the creature, or too... complex. He wasn't entirely sure how intelligent a battle-scarred lizard could possibly be, and it wasn't his intention to insult him by being overly sophisticated in his wording.

This one was humble, then--or at least straightforwardly honest. 'Show me what you know,' he asked, and Fireheart glanced up to the wisp, thoughtful. He let it fade, after a moment. "The wisps seem useful, but they do not... feel like true fire, if that makes sense? They are not hot; they don't burn, and they do not come to me as easily as other magic does," he explained.

A moment's focus, and thought, as he settled on something to show the alligator.

After a beat, his body heated, mud slowly slicking off; his eyes flared up with a flameglow light. "This is... something," he explained. "It is fire, I suppose, but it isn't particularly useful, is it?"

He flinched away, at first, tensing back and down so that elbows touched the muck, eyes nearly closing against the heat and the light. Some instinct lashed his magic out, and while at first it did little, after a moment (as Dragon shoved shout into water) Fireheart found that the alligator's fire was... under his control. It had not simply dissipated but hung, quietly crackling, floating, above Dragon's head by several feet.

Fireheart held his breath, a moment, staring up at it, barely hearing Dragon's words. At length, exhaling carefully, eyes locked on the flame, he spoke.

"I, ahh... I believe I have your fire, Dragon," he offered. A tentative, careful pull of his magicka brought the flame toward him in a shivering orb, a hovering fireball some three feet across, condensed from Dragon's flame breath. Fireheart's eyes half-squinted again against the light and he stepped forward, bringing his nose toward it. It was like a wisp, and controlled like it, too--but larger, stronger, its heat boiling the air before him.

After a moment it became too much to maintain and he turned, instinct pushing him to thrust it out against a pile of nearby reeds. There was a whoosh, a whoomph, and they went up in flames, the fire now wild and burning quickly out.

"I've never done that before," he said, staring at it.

Flame breath, hm-? Well I am hardly a dragon, or--related lizard, he thought, eyeing Dragon over, but I suppose it's time to give this a try.
The idea that it would hurt was a little disconcerting, but if he wished to progress, it seemed that he had little choice. He splayed his legs a tad to brace himself, tail looped out behind him--straight, its tip hanging--and tilted his head back.

He concentrated.

Fireheart felt the heat guttering up in his chest, the sudden warmth of the gemstone outside it--the pouring forth of magicka. Like a well suddenly rising to the top, and then bursting out in overflow, he felt ember-hot heat searing inside him and then up through his throat.

Surprised, he barely had time to snap his jaws open before the guttering fire--larger than Dragon's, louder, hotter--came roaring out. Eyes widened, ears flattened back, a sense of wonder and almost savage triumph flaring up in him (that exultation suddenly taking him unexpectedly)--and then the pain registered.

A moment later the white wolf had yelped, and thrust his head down into the marsh water, trembling with the pain that wracked his throat and jaws. His tongue burned and hell that hurt; all he could do was roll wide flameglow eyes to stare at Dragon in shock.