When you were young, you found a strange piece of coal, egg shaped and soft. You swallowed the ruby-fruit whole and burned your throat and vocal cords.

With time, your skin will turn coral and bronze, slick and slippery. You wake up with sand in your eyes, half burrowed in the ground, searching for the salamander’s heat.

You are mute but can breathe terrible fire. Forever young, fiery and mischievous, the world is your flammable playground.

Was that coal-fruit the egg of your kin?