"Please don't let me keep you," says Ruan agreeably, and he backs off.

Bloom follows him, looking a bit agitated.

...I wonder if I could go see those eggs someone brought.

"They're both in Tapa, but it doesn't sound hard to arrange if the parents don't fuss about it, why?"

Oh, I'm - autumning, I suppose. It's useful data and not intolerable, but seeing eggs might shake me out of it.

"I'll talk to my Tapai counterparts." And presently: "The national park greens would love to have you visit and are asking the parent who accompanied that egg."

(That Draak asks questions about who Bloom is, but is fine with it once it's clear that Amentans hold her in high regard.)

Bloom solicits directions and flies there.

This place is beautiful!

"Isn't it just?" says the mycologist. "The egg is in the leaf pile over there."

I can hear her soul from here.

She carefully shifts leaves out of the way.

Healthy. Vigorous. There is much fire in this one.

Toama the egg sends out a burst of pride that everyone feels! She's gonna breathe lots of fire!

...Does anyone object if I frighten her a bit, to impress the importance of not starting forest fires?

"...no, that sounds good," says the climatologist. "Maybe she can help with controlled burns or something when she's grown up but certainly not willy-nilly."

...You are not her creator, her parent, the other Draak comments with vague suspicion.

I am not, Bloom agrees.

Very well.

Bloom's story to the egg is mostly wordless. It acknowledges that setting things on fire is fun, but then lingers on bad feelings and horror at burned things being totally ruined now! And then she imagines wildfires as a giant beast made of flame that eats everything in its path, if foolishly awoken... Including small hatchlings! The beauty of nature, tasty prey, trees that took decades to grow, her own life, all gone for a moment of foolish play! Only ash and bones remain. This is the Worst Thing Ever. You have to be careful with your fire and only burn things that really definitely should be burned, and always remember that fire is a lively and hard to control thing that will slip out of your grip.

...Toama is appropriately scared. The egg is actually quivering.

That's kind of cute. The mycologist records the quivery egg.

Bloom carefully puts the leaf-pile back over the egg after a minute, then smooths out some of her feathers.

Would you teach her Earth magic when she is a bit older? the parent asks.

She does not seem likely to be good at it... Though I've been surprised before. It won't be relevant for a few local years either way.

"Earth magic is the kind you use to fix people with bad springs?" asks the mycologist.

No, that's a further specialized skill that demands high skill in multiple domains especially Earth to even begin.

That's slightly disappointing. Oh well.

I'm going to put a school in Baravi. If I'm still there in ten years, who knows what the world will look like then? Perhaps it will come to pass.

Ooh, a school. Baravi is lucky to have her.

They've been welcoming. My only worry is whether I can get students who will actually listen to me.

"Why wouldn't they?"

A lot of them want nothing to do with aliens.

"If you can get students who'll come to Amenta at all, though..."

Yes. I'm going to recruit younger and have to teach them more, is all. The ones who are already experts in their own right have too much pride, too much invested.

"We're lucky you wanted to help!"

Luck, fate, or the Onesong, whatever you may call it. Vast is the Onesong, and mysterious its ways.

Indeed, the other Draak agrees.

I will give you two my email address. Seasons don't affect hatchlings much except for winter, but you would probably like to know what I observe about them. I am in autumn now despite it being late spring in Baravi and winter at home...

"How odd - I wonder if the egg will season to this hemisphere -"