Maine stared, a little dazed, at her for a moment, watching her fight, not understanding. No one had ever fought for him before! Maybe it was the spark. Did the spark make people want to fight for him? That didn't really make sense. Did it bind them together? The villagers said he was a demon, and Maine didn't think that that was true, but maybe he was and she was one, too? But different kind, because she burned and crackled and he didn't do that. Maine spun and danced and jumped, never in quite the same place twice. And that was alright, because Maine hadn't found many places that he liked.
But at her command, which he only partly heard, he stumbled to his feat, amazed to find his bond cut, and he ran for the forest. he didn't know who she was, but she burned and burned--brightly, bringing light to his darkness, even in the middle of the night. he stumbled over a root and he decided. He would call her Firelight.
It was dangerous in the woods at night, but Maine was not afraid. He didn't know to be afraid and he thought that Firelight would protect him. The night was dark beneath the trees, with no stars or moon or fire to light his way, only his inner eye, which hew could not use and often was mistaken for insanity.