Story:

It has been about a month now since a large, wealthy woman (named Martha) adopted Flint. He was already used to her and he knew every nook and cranny of the mansion he lived in. Even though he was only five years old he was already learning quickly on various subjects, the biggest one being English. It was nice being able to easily communicate with others using words . . . yet he felt lonely. His owner, who has made him call her “mama”, was almost always busy with other people. He didn’t know what she talked about with them, as he wasn’t allowed in the same room, but it didn’t interest him too much. Even the various maids avoided him if they could. The main rule was that he could not leave the house.

One rainy evening while his owner was with another client, Flint decided he wanted to try out a new book, hopefully one with pictures. He walked down one of the very long hallways and turned into the library/study without turning the light on. It wasn’t that large (maybe the size of a master bedroom), but it had large bookcases stacked with various books, but the reading material did not fill the shelves. There were also many books stacked on the lone desk in the corner. It was a tall desk, being about level with his head, but maybe he could get a book down from there. He didn’t want to try with the books on the shelves.

He walked in the direction of the desk, not paying attention to the floor. There was a large wrinkle on the carpet that he ended up hitting with his foot, tripping over it and hit head first into the edge of the desk with his forehead.

“!!” He fell backwards onto the ground, clutching his head with the palms of his wings. Tears quickly formed as he tried to not cry out loud. A little gash was made, blood pooling at the edges. Small whimper sounds escaped his lips. It hurt so much.
However, a flicker made him open his eyes again. He looked up to the desk and noticed a small glow. He weakly stood up, his legs shaking slightly, and there he saw an odd light shape, and it was moving! He moved closely to the desk, resting his thumbs on the wood. He was confused at first; what was he looking at? He had noticed the light when he had walked in, but he thought it was a small light bulb that wasn’t very bright. But this thing . . . it looked like it had life! Yet it was behind what looked to be a glass vase with an opening at the top. The little light was on a thick stick that looked melted, and was only a few inches long. Flint stared at it with wonder, forgetting about the pain between his eyes. A few times the little light bounced. He couldn’t look away; it looked so beautiful.

But he had to let it free. He reached out with his wings and gently touched the thin glass on either side. It felt so warm! But not warm enough to hurt. He slowly began to lift the glass vase, being very careful about—

“FLINT!” a voice yelled out with the over light turning on. It startled him so badly that he threw up his “arms”, dropping the glass and it hit the table, then rolled to the floor and shattered. At that same moment the light just disappeared. “Oh my word, my baby!” The woman ran over to Flint, hugging him. It was his owner. “You can’t touch that! It will burn you! Ahh!” She just noticed his face: blood had now trickled down his face. “You’re hurt! The maid told me you tripped! Ohh-oh we must get you cleaned up and disinfected!” She had no ill will towards him for breaking the glass.

About fifteen minutes had passed since the little accident. Flint had his wound cleaned and a bandage was applied. He hadn’t spoken at all until now.
“Mama . . .”
“Yes, dear?” Martha was washing her hands in the bathroom sink. Flint was sitting on the toilet cover. It was fuzzy.

“What kind of light was that? It could move . . .”
“The candle? That was fire. Have I not shown you fire before?”
Flint slowly shook his head ‘no’.
“It’s a light and heat source that can be used for many things, but it should never be touched! It will burn you, and it can hurt a lot.”
“It was pretty.”
“Oh, yes! It can be very beautiful to watch, and some candles can be scented, so it would make a nice aroma.”
“ . . . Is it alive?”
“No, no, dear. It acts as if it were alive, but it’s not.”
“Oh . . .” Flint fell silent. He felt ashamed for dropping the glass and that the little flame went away. He wanted to see it again.

“Here, I’ll show you something.” His owner picked him up and walked out of the bathroom, down the long hallway and turned into a living space. There were many paintings on the four walls with a large couch pointed at what looked to be a stone indent in the wall. Above the indent was a huge painting, the biggest one in the room, with various painted animals crowding the frame. He had been in this room before but hadn’t stayed long in here. There were a few other comfortable chairs in the room as well.

Martha sat Flint down on the couch, walked over to a small closet and took out a few pieces of cut wood. Flint watched with curiosity as she set the wood down next to the wall indent, then walked back and picked up a bunch of very old newspapers and twigs and also put them next to the logs.

“This is a fireplace,” she said, removing the small gate away from the stone indent. “I haven’t used this thing for many years, but this is a safe way to show you the wonder that fire is, as well as give heat.” She began to stack the logs of wood into the pit; some stacked to look like a tipi. Then she added the newspapers to the base as well as some of the twigs.

“One moment, dear, I forgot the most important thing.” Martha walked out of the room for a little bit. Flint stayed in place until she came back with a little matchbook in her hands. “This is how we’ll start the fire. Come over closer and I’ll show you.”
Flint slid off of the couch and walked over to his owner who was on her knees in front of the fireplace.
“How does fire come out of that?” Flint asked, confused.
“Just watch!” The woman took out one of the sticks, and using the end of the little box she quickly struck it with the little stick, and with an odd scratching sound suddenly a little flame appeared. Flint’s eyes grew wide, stunned to see it come out of nothing. It was so instant!

“This little guy won’t stay tiny like this. We have to give it fuel, which is what the logs and paper is for. It will be as if it’s eating the objects, but remember: it’s not alive!” She set the little stick with the flame onto the crunched up newspaper, and quickly the fire began to spread onto the paper, turning it black. Flint couldn’t look away. This fascinated him so much that he felt a pull towards it, but he stayed in place. The little fire danced and grew as it consumed the newspaper, then began to even more slowly climb onto the logs. Martha took the gate and put it back in front of the fireplace. Little popping sounds and tiny, glowing particles came off of the wood. Flint flinched each time it happened, but it sounded nice. He could feel the growing warmth from the fire as well. Soon enough the popping didn’t frighten him anymore. It was already at a large size, way different from the tiny flame he had seen under that glass.
He sat there, memorized by the dancing flames and crackling sounds. He didn’t have any stress in his body and his mind felt like it was floating.
“Whenever you’d like a fire in the fireplace, let me know, okay?” Martha smiled at him. Flint nodded, giving a tiny smile back.
In time he curled up next to his owner, feeling very sleepy because of the warmth and crackle. She petted his head and back and began to hum a tune for him.

He drifted off into a deep sleep to the soothing mixture of sounds, going into a dream of his new love.

---

I wanted to show how Flint came to love fire a LOT, and so it deserved a story with it as well. xD I wanna do this more often with stuff I figure out.
Even as an adult Flint loves fire. He can stare at a tiny flame or a bonfire for hours, getting lost into the colors and movement. It helps him calm down from problems he may be having and is also a great way to fall asleep.
It's funny because when I first made Flint I said that fire was his fetish, so that it made him horny for whatever reason, but I dropped that because he's not a purely sexual character anymore. It made more sense that it was calming for him instead. I can see him actually wanting to die in a fire as well. kjbsdlfkjsdlfkjs

I wasn't planning to go all out with this picture, BUT I GUESS I DID. I am happy with how it turned out, though it would have been better if I inked him instead of kept him as a sketch. xD Oh well.

Oh and there really hasn't been any other candles in the house until this point. The mansion is old fashioned looking, but the light fixtures are all modern and electric. Possibly one of the maids on their break was reading with a candle lit and forgot to blow it out when they left. That's why it's so short for the wax. aha.