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The little bird sneezed in its sleep and rolled over, kicking up a puff of glowing lava dust.
"Yes," the Matron said without a hint of shame. "She is young. Her form... not yet refined. But within her burns the same eternal flame that I do."
Fenna's breath caught. "Then why did she cause trouble in our camp for the past two days?"
"Because I sent her," the Matron replied calmly. "She was meant to bring you here. But she is still a child—unruly, playful. Mischievous, yes… but without ill intent."
She paused, then added, "I wanted to reach your spirit. To whisper across flame and instinct. And so, I guided her to you. Because I have something to ask."
Fenna took a step closer, her expression tightening. "Ask what?"
"Before that… I want to tell you a story," the Matron said gently. "Please, sit."
