The Spark To The Flame (Private; Fire Fly)

It was the late morning when Lucifer had woken up. Originally, he lived deep inside the interior of the FireWing Territory underneath a volcano. But lately, there wasn't very many people around. Most of them had been associating with the NightWings as of late. And as loyal as he is to the tribe, he decided not to attend any of their activities on the battlefield, but instead work on his current job as a Guardian. But surely, there was not much to guard. It was rare for any dragon to wander this far into territory unless they wanted to boil alive or something. It was a quiet job, but that is one reason he loved it.

At the peak of one of the smaller, inactive volcanoes, sat the large, brutish FireWing who went by Lucifer. It was a quiet morning, but no one could really tell. Smoke littered the sky to a point where it is an ashy-coal color. Other dragons could describe the distinct smell of dry blood and throat-itching rock. Normally, very unpleasant scents but normal to a FireWing. Lucifer sat at the peak, looking at all things around him as his tail curled up around his paws and feet, and his wings resting to his sides. Normally, smaller volcanoes would be used to survey an area as a Guardian or Scout, but the sight was truly breathtaking, even for someone who lived in these fiery pits his whole life.

Yawning, Lucifer smiled, "Maybe I'll see someone today. Who knows? Heh heh..." He chuckled to himself, used to solitude, but it certainly wasn't a comfortable feeling.