Submission (#5633) Approved

In the quiet solitude of his lodgings, Sariel sat at the worn wooden table provided to him in his small room.  Here he was surrounded by all the books and journals he could manage.  A modest stack, but much reduced from the original reference texts he had intended to bring with him.  His eyes were not fixed on the words before him, however, but rather, on the small window of his room, where in the distant night, he caught a glimpse of the wavery orange light of the lava flows.

He sighed heavily, looking down at the notes he had rushed to scribble in his notebook, hoping to re-capture that near realization that had caught him in the canyons.  As he skimmed through his notes and sketches, his eyes were inexorably drawn to the window, and the view beyond. 

The flows had been both a wonder and a horror.  A sort of destructive beauty of molten rivers and swirling fumaroles billowing plumes of smoke.  But it wasn’t just the lava flows, but the rugged gorges as well.  Each sight flittered before his mind’s eye, tormenting him with the ever-persisting thought that Sariel stood on the precipice of something momentous.  He had carefully transcribed all his findings in the little notebook, weaving an intricate tapestry of descriptive text, reflective thought, and meandering realizations much like one would use any journal. 

But as he sat there, the ink drying on the pages, a longing stirred within him.  He was not going to find what he needed captured in words.  These notes, these sketches, they were helpful, and he had needed to do this, but here, sitting at his desk, was not where he would find the answers he needed.  He lifted his gaze to the window once more, trying to follow the curve of the river of flame until it eventually disappeared behind the swooping cliffs of the canyon.  He was suddenly very sure that what he needed was out there.

Resolute in his decision, and suddenly unable to sit for a moment longer, Sariel rose, donning his protective gear with a giddy excitement that made his paws tremble. 

* * *

The air was heavy with the scent of sulfur, mingling with the whisper of the wind, smashing debris and pebbles against the unmoving stone.  He picked his way carefully through the ashen landscape, guided by the distant glow of molten rock that pierced the night sky.  Letting the lava flow be his beacon during the nighttime of the wastelands.

His renewed sense of vigor erased the need for rest as if he had slept peacefully, instead of tossing and turning ceaselessly.  He followed the paths carved by the wildlife and locals, weaving around and through the gorges and canyons.  In the distance, the fire beckoned closer, growing in intensity and clarity with each step he took.

As he, at last, could make out the wavering details of the fiery tongues of magma, he stopped walking.  He breathed carefully, taking in the sight – the glowing red, yellow, and orange snakes of melted rock, the occasionally explosion, sparking droplets of lava and rock alight, the twirling smoke that created a dome of ash over this land, obscuring the blue and clouds beyond.  His head turned slowly; eyes wide as he hoped to engrave every detail of this view into his mind.

It was as his heart soared with the view that a flicker of movement caught his eye.  He paused, breath catching in his throat, as he slowly, ever so slowly, turned his head to catch sight of the salamander.

It was impossible to know if it was the same creature, or simply one of the many that made its home in this impossible wasteland.  The salamander was resplendent – its wet scales glimmering as bright as a bottled sun as it navigated the treacherous terrain.  Its fiery colors reflected the very flames that burst forth from the earth—as if the creature had crawled from the very mouth of the bubbling volcano and followed its deadly rivers to the valley below.

Sariel’s heart swelled with awe and gratitude.  Careful not to move, his eyes followed the careful trail the salamander followed.  Its body twisting and twining, elegantly moving its body as if it still swam in the waters far away from this place.  He understood why artists were compelled to stop and draw, suddenly.  This would’ve been a sight worthy of hours over an easel, carefully composing the canvas to capture the brilliant colors most accurately along the creature’s body.

He knew that this encounter, however insignificant it might appear, would be one he would always remember.  It was a rare gift, this.  The ability to gaze upon the land and feel a deep sense of interconnectedness with all life regardless of the terrors and dangers that lay just beyond.  He knew, then, that despite those tales of salamanders likely being only that – just tall tales to entertain – he could not leave without making a suitable offering, worthy of a story of his own.

Carefully moving his clothing out of the way, he rummaged through his rucksack until his fingers brushed against what he wanted – an object, cool and smooth.  He withdrew the stone within, a bright blue pebble he and Taiga had picked at the edge of the waterfall where they had practiced holding their breath.  Slowly, to not startle the creature, he put the small stone as close as possible to it as he dared and whispered a small word of thanks as he gazed at the salamander.

He stepped back, and watched the salamander regard him.  In that moment, he desired to know what it thought of him.  But, after a moment, the salamander turned its head and continued its way.  Unaware of the gift he had given it.

Sariel watched the salamander depart with a smile.  Only turning away once he lost sight of the creature.  He turned then, the feeling brimming in his chest something he would never be able to put into words.  He looked back to the trek that awaiting him back to his lodgings, feeling incredibly satisfied with his journey and sighed –

And saw a bloom of red sparks leave, with his breath.