question by N.N.

Cold dead of midnight, gloom fills the air and stalks across the streets. Creatures keen to darkness come out to hunt, while others escape the Icy dark grasp of night. Without warning clouds above begin to churn, something within stirs and burns… active and sentient it longs to be free to play amongst the earth.
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Moments later… a colosal crash, like a giant’s thrash. A terrifying jolt strikes a tree with intelligent accuracy, splitting the mighty thing as the jolt hits the ground. Black and charred, part falls to the turf. Flames jump from the cleaved branch, free from the shackles up high and it’s oppresive keepers in the clouds.
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Gentle fire flickers and sways. Resisting the cold harsh night, sparks push forward like eager children… jumping, spinning, leaping. Tiny embers become a conflaguration. flickering tongues of flame lick the air, peircing the icy dark and illuminating the ground with red and yellow. Shadows dance among the trees in the background and the woods glow with kindled heat from dead leaves. Dancers twirl draped in mesmerizing pyre, swirl in defiance of tyrants angered in the higher.
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Meanwhile up on high, punishments are to be plyed… Rushing winds and Weeping rain… A tragic storm.
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An owl perches on a tree to watch with ire, as the light of a glowing fire betrays his stealthy inclination. A fox stops to witness the miasma of dead leaves and billowing smoke. The fire blazes on, rebelling against hunters of blacksight, all the while a storm gathers above in the bitter grasping malice of twilight.
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Squalling winds sweep and howl. frost fused rain, falls like biting daggers. Trees shelter a drowning hearth, but cruel wind rages on with furious arcs. Prancing pyre wilts like a flower. Flickers fade, fire rising as fume. Back to face angered spirits voilent masters.
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