The Heartwood Well, nobody's perfect

Not only did Charon know, he launched into a descriptive tale about witnessing lightning strikes during the wilderness's recent storm. Wildfire's lips parted as he painted a vivid picture in her mind, though who knew how close her mental image was to the real thing? Her parents had explained fire to her before but she had never seen it for herself. She pictured it sort of like water, only red, like her fur. It would be the opposite of cold and wet too: hot and dry. When it washed over something—trees, shrubs, grass—it left them brittle and black, like the stump she'd touched just a moment ago.

June responded to the story with a question and, as a young Naturalist, Wildfire couldn't resist trying to guess. "The lightning must be hot. Fire's hot, that's why it burns things this way." She gestured at the charred woodland around them. "Is that right?" Wildfire queried hopefully, amber eyes shifting to Charon. He seemed like quite an authority on the matter.