The tree base was alive with soft rustling leaves, sunlight streaming through the branches, casting dappled patterns across the wooden floor. Flamefrags leaned against one of the thick branches, small sparks dancing across his fingers as he grinned.

Manepear’s posture stiffened, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze followed Flame every time he moved, sharp and measured.

Flame tilted his head, smirking. “What? Don’t like the show?” His fire flickered brighter, reflecting in Mane’s narrowed eyes.

“Show? You mean flailing with sparks?” Mane’s voice was low, controlled, but the edge in it made Flame raise an eyebrow.

“Careful, Mane,” Flame said, stepping closer. “You’re starting to sound jealous.”

Mane’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t step back. “Maybe I am. Maybe I like having her attention without all the… fireworks.”

Flame laughed softly, leaning in just enough to let the warmth from his flames brush against Mane’s arm. “Is that so? Because I think she likes a little fire every now and then.”

A tense silence followed, the only sounds the crackle of Flame’s sparks and the distant rustle of leaves. Both men stood close, neither willing to give in.