He knew he shouldn't have picked it up. Cousin Sandry had only been there for a short time, but it was still dangerous to pick up random threads lying on the ground.
Now he was locked in a cocoon of fire. The red silk thread had twitched under his fingers and spun and spun til it was orange and yellow and pink and shone brightly.
Hello.
Ambros held his breath, praying.
Who are you?
Ambros squeezed his eyes shut. This could not be happening.
Excuse me, but you need to move. I can quiet the fire.
"I…" shifting carefully, Ambrose looked around. A pale silvery figure gestured at him impatiently.
As he stepped closer to the fiery boundary and watched the figure, Ambrose noted with a start that the fire wasn't hot. He contemplated walking through it, but decided that he wasn't quite that brave.
A murmmur came from the other man. Damn her.
Ambros' eyebrows creased together. "I'm sorry, but do you know…"
What's happening? Of course I do.
"Ah, then could you..." Ambros waved his hands helplessly.
I am, well, I suppose you could call me a memory. I was in the mind of Lady Sandraline as she wove with the thread you touched. She was thinking of my death, I suppose. Now the man sniffed, if you don't mind, it's a rather sore subject and I'd like to tame this fire.
All Ambros could do was nod. Mages! He was glad he was a simple man.