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"...sarrin...Dys...t up...Dysarrin."

Dys groaned in annoyance at the unwanted sound. The insistent, obnoxious unwanted sound, lingering at the edge of his consciousness and yanking on it. With a sleep-crackled grunt, he lashed out with his foot toward the noise, catching nothing but crisp winter air against his bare skin as the appendage left the confines of his furs. He pulled back with an array of disgruntled rumblings, bundling himself tighter in the familiar warmth.

"Get up," Kraes griped again, giving the hefty body an experimental jab with a clawed toe, as if that would help to quell Dysarrin's innate desire to stay hibernating in his tent.

The younger hybrid raised his head blearily, green orbs hazy and not yet alert after being woken. From where he lay he could see flickering shadows of the camp's fires against the stiff fabric of his tent and knew the sun hadn't yet risen over the mountainside. "Get out," Dysarrin retorted huskily, tugging up his furry shroud and covering his face with it.

Kraes huffed. The rustling of his wings dusted the sides of Dys' shelter, and for a moment, the younger male allowed himself to believe his mentor had departed. Then, Kraes spoke. "Something good outside."

Skeptically, Dys peered from the blankets to glower at him. "What kind of 'good?'"

"The kind you've probably never seen before. Gotta hurry, though."

It sounded appealing, what with the limited information he was given. But there was still the issue of- "Cold outside. Dun wanna go," Dysarrin reminded his companion, nestling in to make sure Kraes understood the point.

The elder Firani scoffed and rolled his eyes. "What does that matter? Doesn't have to be cold. Use magic to keep warm. That's exactly what its for. More or less. Sometimes warmer than others."

More deceptively pleasant-sounding ideas from Kraes. The younger male's lips plastered into a thin line, distraught with the choice. New things were always good, especially things unseen. He'd lived through fourteen summers, so if he hadn't seen it in that time, was he really likely to get another chance? On the other hand: cold. And even whiny, complaintive, adventurous hybrid children weren't usually enough to inspire Dys from the relative warmth (or at least tucked out of the wind) of the clan's camp.

He tipped his head with a low rumble of thought. But magic kept Kraes warm. His companion still strolled around bare-footed and bare-chested, with only his calves, arms, and hips wrapped with thick swatches of fur. So he wasn't completely confined, at least. Dys hummed. "Maybe give it a try. Come back if I don't like it."

After outfitting himself in a fashion similar to his mentor (grudgingly, of course), Dysarrin slunk from his nest and out into the crisp, brisk, frigid winter air. He couldn't suppress a shudder that rippled all the way down the base of his spine. "The magic?" He prompted immediately, rubbing the fur strapped to his forearms across his upper arms to try and preserve any semblance of warmth he'd once had.

Kraes seemed much less fazed. "It's the same magic you've been using," he insisted. "Just more controlled, constant ripples of it. Less magic, but a lot of time. And only heat, not fire."

The younger male squinted back at him, his lids pinching together and his lips jutted out in a mixture of distaste and disbelief. 'Constant' and 'controlled' were really strong words, and they made the whole effort sound difficult. Once the pair had traipsed the relative safety and snow-less-ness of the camp, Dys realized it didn't merely sound difficult. Out in the full force of winter, without the benefit of his comrades' efforts to keep the cold at bay, Dys visibly shivered.

"Just focus. It'll get easier the longer ya do it," Kraes advised. Closer inspection revealed visible tendrils of steam rising from his skin, manifested heat swimming off of him like he was in a great excess of it. When Kraes stepped, an extra pulse about his feet melted the few inches of snow against the rock and left him clear to walk without the danger of his toes freezing off from the rest of his foot.

Despite his initial attempts, Dys was quick to learn that it was easier to follow his mentor's precise footsteps than to try and make his own. "Something good better be real good," he grumbled, sending up yet another harsh flare of flame that enveloped him for all of an instant before fizzling into the wind, leaving behind a smoky haze. The burst of heat was comforting and very much missed a few seconds later.

"Keep trying. Ya got all winter." It wasn't a comforting statement, but as they traveled away from camp and away from Dysarrin's bed, he didn't have much choice. 'Constant' proved to be as impossible as it sounded. The periodic firebursts he let out as compensation were nearly as draining as they were useful. Maybe even more so.

By the time excited and jubilant sounds of battle reached him, Dys wanted nothing more than to curl in a cave until spring. Maybe even until summer, just for good measure, if he'd be allowed to do such a thing. But no, he had to come out hunting for something good.

Perching in the last snowy pothole created by his mentor, Dys' gaze sought out the source of the commotion. "Waited on you, Kraes." came the annoyed voice of one of the females standing before a small congregation of large, writhing orange bodies. "So boring, but waited anyway, for you."

Dys peered around her inquisitively watching as a few of her party dipped in, attacked the beasts, then faltered back, taking turns in their charges and retreats and leaving the dragons muddled. Dys turned back to Ralekraes. "I can do that?"

Kraes looked on at them, letting out a soft hum and clucking his tongue as if he was genuinely thinking about Dys' proposition. "Probably not," he decided with a shrug. "You're too weak to hurt them, and as Firani's like us, they'll just turn your magic back at you. Especially your magic, since you can't even use it so good..."

Dys bristled and snorted derisively. "But why even bring me? Wanna kill dragons too!"

The older man gave Dys' shoulder a shove to accent the meaningful look he sent him. "Can't kill 'em, but still good to watch. Maybe learn a little. When you're more likely not to hurt someone with a stray burst, then you can join. Until then, you can watch. And do nothing. Maybe encourage better-ness."

As Kraes gleefully moved in to join his older, more experienced companion's, Dysarrin sulked. The dragons roared, spat fire, swiped at his tribesmen. At every twitch of their bodies, Dys considered ignoring his mentor and leaping in anyway, but one of the other warriors, lingering back and waiting for their next turn, always stalled him. The group of jeering, teasing Osias were more than a match for a few Firanis. Within no time at all, the dragons realized this. A couple (the larger pair) beat heavy wings and flew away, while the two smaller dragons were forced down into a suddenly much harsher fray that left them tattered, stained in red, and eventually disintegrating.

While the remaining dragons deteriorated, the group cheered jubilantly. Except for Dys, who sulked against a rock. Some of his clanmates weren't even using magic. That had knives, bows... If he had something like that, he wouldn't need magic either... Then Kraes couldn't keep him from a fight just for being Firani.

Hm...