His father clearly has a life path all plotted out for him. His mother clearly doesn't care enough to fight him on it.

Apprenticeship in a craft? No son of his will be a pansy handsy city boy! No. He's bid to follow out to the woods. Stack firewood. Set snare traps. Make lean-tos. Practice lighting fires and cleaning small game, and get cuffed on the back when he makes mistakes.

He hates every minute of it. He hates the other woodsy kids. Muscle brains, Red-heads, every one of them. Why can't he go to the temple school? At least Mom teaches him to read.

He tries to run away at one point. Dad finds him right away and just says to come home when he's done throwing a tantrum. He comes back when nobody in the next town over has any work he can do and he can't forage enough to eat in the woods. The breaking point is when his mother decides to use his whittling projects as firewood.

He has some magic. Kiddie magic. Firestarting and power strike, from Dad. Playing with light, learned himself. Forcing a tree to fruit right away- He got spanked for that one. It's horrible for the plant, apparently. Sticking things into rocks for later.

Nobody really talks about exactly how many points they have. It's personal. But he knows you can burn them. A permanent sacrifice for a miracle.

He wants to go away. Far away. Somewhere he can make things. Learn things. With people who aren't like his parents.

Red, for violent force. Blue, for sudden change. Two each.

Burn.