Nicote does so.

The wood sparks and flames shoot up as the fire in your hand turns golden-orange and grows bigger.

"Well I'll be," Balthur breathes. "Fire magic. Don't see that every day. I'd never have guessed."

"Most don't." Nicote brings the fire closer to the wood. "Cmon, light..."

You singe your fingers as the wood finally lights; the fire in your hand sputtering out as the small burst of pain ruins your concentration. It's just a flesh wound though, so nothing to worry about.

Nicote winces. "Yipes...forgot that could happen. Well there's your fire."

Balthur get's to work making a meal. The smell of food rouses the Wyvern long enough for him to jump up and wriggle in the harness, wanting to get out. You forgot to do that when he stopped earlier.

Nicote quickly unharnesses him. "Thanks boy."

The Wyvern cocks his head to the side, as if surprised you've thanked him and called him something.

He stumbles a bit as he heads over to Balthur, sinking to the ground curled around the fire with a sigh.

Nicote takes a seat nearby and watches the fire.

"You two see anything interesting while I was cooped up in the cart?" Balthur asks nonchalantly, stirring at the meaty stew in the pot.

The Wyvern shuffles its head in the barest hint of a 'no'.