"Make him stop," the man calls, before he's even gotten close to them. "He's got to stop. Now. We don't want none of this--"
The knot of people gathered around the disaster are divided. Half are wading forward into the melting snow, grabbing for hands as they come exposed. The other half are looking over, craning their necks to watch the unfolding scene. A murmuring begins to circulate their number, muffled by the snowfall and the trees that crowd close from the surrounding wood. The pitch of it isn't good.
Matthias is still concentrating, keeping the flames high but not towering, hovering them above the snow instead of letting them carve down and plow through. Sweat stands out on his brow and his mouth is very dry. Kitty's guidance has helped him. Now that she's stepped off to address this challenge, he can feel his certainty flag. He darts a glance at her, but she's turned away from him, standing ground.
The man strides right up to Kitty, undaunted. A finger of dread is pressed at the back of Matthias' neck, but he has to look away again. He has to keep focused on the fire.
"We can handle our own," the villager says, loudly. His coat is lined with pelts, stitched heavily under oilskin. Red stands on his cheeks, two angry marks, and his voice is a growl. "Make your mage stop."
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The knot of people gathered around the disaster are divided. Half are wading forward into the melting snow, grabbing for hands as they come exposed. The other half are looking over, craning their necks to watch the unfolding scene. A murmuring begins to circulate their number, muffled by the snowfall and the trees that crowd close from the surrounding wood. The pitch of it isn't good.
Matthias is still concentrating, keeping the flames high but not towering, hovering them above the snow instead of letting them carve down and plow through. Sweat stands out on his brow and his mouth is very dry. Kitty's guidance has helped him. Now that she's stepped off to address this challenge, he can feel his certainty flag. He darts a glance at her, but she's turned away from him, standing ground.
The man strides right up to Kitty, undaunted. A finger of dread is pressed at the back of Matthias' neck, but he has to look away again. He has to keep focused on the fire.
"We can handle our own," the villager says, loudly. His coat is lined with pelts, stitched heavily under oilskin. Red stands on his cheeks, two angry marks, and his voice is a growl. "Make your mage stop."