"I should teach you to build a fire," said Jasper.
"I know how to build a fire," said Lyta, bristling. "You use matches -- "
"No, a real fire." Jasper picked up a twig, and a flame sparked from the end like a little candle. "Do you see? The fire has a soul."
Lyta frowned. It just looked like fire to her.
He waved a hand over the twig, and the flame disappeared. "Cup your hand around the wood." He bent her fingers into position, his skin warm. "Feel the the energy within it. Then reorder it to match the fire's soul." His breath tickled her ear as magic flowed through her hand. Her skin tingled, then burned.
Lyta squeaked and pulled away as a flame burst out of the kindling. She rubbed her hand. "Is it supposed to hurt?"
"A little fire only burns a little. Now you try," said Jasper, nudging her hand back toward the pile.
Lyta bit her lip, held her hand over a twig, and tried her very best to make the twig feel like it was on fire.
It remained unburnt.
Jasper waved his hand over the pile and it burst into flames. "I suppose I should have one thing I'm good at."
