Ignes moved slowly for once, but he felt as if he was trudging though molasses. He was itching to run—it caused his body to twitch violently everyone once in a while, and lightning to arc across his body more frequently than that—but he kept the urge at bay by focusing on the storm cloud floating above his hand. He had created his own little storm, with bolts of lighting striking his hand and creating the same sound as normal lightning, but to a much lesser degree. The sensation created a sense of wonder that he could feel at the pit of his stomach, but there wasn't enough in him to spark that sense into a flame.
After of few more minutes of wandering the forest, Ignes couldn't take it anymore. Without dispersing the cloud, he sprinted to his hidden home and was there within seconds. Only those that were aiming to find the shack would be able to do so, meaning that you couldn't see it if you didn't know it even existed. It was built in a completely different plane, making it that much harder to find. The shimmering space in front of Ignes reflected all light around. Not a very sufficient way of hiding, but again, only those that knew it was even there could access it.
Ignes had the sudden urge to stick the hand with the storm cloud above it into the space. His hand disappeared, and even though he had been living there for six years, he had never actually processed what he was seeing. There was something humorous about it, and yet he couldn't bring himself to laugh. Instead, a frown formed on his face, and he began repeatedly jabbing his hand into the space in an attempt to make himself chuckle.
After a minute of nothing, he threw his hands up in exasperation. And suddenly, the feeling that someone was near hit him like a truck.
