Chapter 11: The Dangers of Not Having a Proper Knowledge of Mythology
Pyro walked silently through the camp. As he strode down the path, he suddenly came face-to-face with the Dark Phoenix. "Uh…please don't tear me to shreds!" he cried, falling to his knees, clasped hands held out in front of him.
She stared at him for a moment, "What?"
He raised his head, "Please, I'm no good at riddles!" A minute passed before Phoenix spoke, "Pyro, you don't know very much about mythology, do you?" "Well, I kind of dropped out before we had that lesson. But I do remember reading about…"
"Wait," she interrupted," you can read?" "Yes!" he said defensively. "And I remember reading about the Phoenix, who stands at the crossroads, asks travelers riddles before they can pass, and rips them to pieces if they get the answer wrong."
Another minute or two passed. "That's a Sphinx, Pyro," Phoenix corrected in annoyance.
"Oh," he replied cheerfully, "well, I've seen you disintegrate people. Same thing, I thought. Besides, you mythological monsters are so alike anyway. Blah, blah, blah, you made me mad. I'm going to kill you now, blah, blah, blah. It's so cliché."
"Pyro," Phoenix said. "Yeah?"
"I'm going to kill you now."
He laughed, "See what I mean? Exactly like…oh."
His face fell and he gulped.
"Bye now," Phoenix smirked as he turned to dust. She brushed off her hands and continued down the trail, in a much better mood now.