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Nefarian was not stupid, no, just not a damned elemental. He’d been chased for days, but he was exhausted and hungry and needed to eat and drink and maybe even rest if he could manage it. He stumbled too often now when he walked. Most of the feed and water had gone to the horse, which was quickly becoming more than it was worth to keep around. Especially that he and it both needed to be warm, so he needed to make a stupid fire that was more than smoke, and this was be so much fucking easier if he were an elemental, but no, for the sake of discovery and his magic he decided to peel the skin off his right hand to make a torturous poison.. Smoke?
And that was the thing, it was smoke, but smoke that produced no heat, and he had never been taught this stupid fire-starting-shit. Always had someone to help or do it for him.
Somewhere in his rage fueled twisting of the stick and string, smoke began, and he noticed it, quickly bending down to blow gently, gently on the the embers, which glowed brighter, and brighter, and soon became flames. Serpine whooped quietly with joy, feeding little bits of dry grass and twigs, then sticks to the flame, till there was a genuine fire in front of him. The horse knickered in his direction, and he took it as congratulations and thanks at his finally starting the fire.
It was only now he realized just how tired and cold he had been. There wasn’t much left in his pack, and he ripped bits of grass out of the ground to feed the horse, at least it could survive on that.
He choked down the far to dry and probably-out-of-date food, coughed and sputtered for a moment before remembering he had no water. Yet another thing being an elemental would have made much easier.
He stared into the fire for a while, figuring how close he could hold his right hand to it without cooking himself- though that would be interesting in of itself, but he didn’t know how to make himself a new hand… Maybe the necromancers could help with that kind of experimentation…
He found bigger sticks, snapping them with a few good stomps of his boots at the right angle, and definitely not falling over even once doing so. They were placed on the fire, and when he was sure it wouldn’t burn out too quickly, he laid his head on the now empty pack, using it as a particularly sad pillow.
The Dead Men were far behind him for now, he could take a moment to rest, and closed his eyes, embers still dancing behind his eyelids as he did so.