He bent down and tore off his boots, dropped his pack. Feet to the ash-covered ground, he could sense the fire magic better. The source was in front of him, having come down the main road from the same way Talfryn had. It stopped ahead, far enough away that Talfryn couldn’t see the shifter through the smoke and fire.
A pillar of flame shot up four feet from him, thick as an old oak, twisting skyward. Talfryn staggered away from it, the magic intense, and tried not to panic. He could feel the shifter moving back down the street toward him, strengthening the fires with the approach. True, Talfryn couldn’t be burned by this current fire, but he wasn’t so certain he couldn’t be burned by intense, well-trained shifter fire. After all, from what he’d read, in the past shifters had gotten into devastating battles. He might burn slower than a shifter without fire magic, but Talfryn had little doubt he’d still burn.