The Heartwood Well, nobody's perfect

She smiled, then nodded when Charon asked her about Naturalism. "I'm an apprentice," she said, eyes shining proudly, though her demeanor was otherwise humble. "I actually started on the trade after watching a storm for the first time," she shared. Wildfire didn't actually remember much about that moment herself—she had been so young at the time—though Peregrine had told her about it and she could easily picture it.

Charon didn't seem to want to include June in the conversation, though it didn't seem the pale girl minded much. She began to poke and prod at a leaf. This inspired Wildfire to do the same. She located a scorched shrub of some sort and brushed a paw against it. It shivered and lots of gray ash fell to the former forest floor. Something about this sight compelled Wildfire to swipe her foreleg in the crumbly pile. The ash clung to her fur, coating her.

"Hey, look, I'm black now," she said aloud to nobody in particular, then on an impulse tossed her small body to the ground and began rolling. Wildfire did this for a minute or two before rising. She had to consciously resist the urge to shake her pelt. "Speaking of dads..." she quipped, referencing their earlier exchange as her eyes flicked from Charon to June. "I look like mine now." She grinned as she looked down at herself and her ashy bodice.