A fire roars in the back of the fox's mind.  Blazing so bright he's left blinded.  The smoke too thick to breathe and yet he stands there, gritting his teeth against the roar of flames, desperately searching for signs of life within, desperately wondering if someone would find their way out on their own, least he leave behind Aine.  But nobody came.

He left behind ashes and dust.  He left behind most of himself.  As the faerie regarded the burned jungle, he exhaled slowly to prevent his teeth catching on his cheek and biting.  The image still haunted him.  He considered setting a fire in his new home an act of war -- not just on the Pitt, but on him specifically, on his family.

Fact of the matter, Gael knew he possessed kin among the pirates -- a piece of information he kept to himself, naturally.  His business with the fae royal family had nothing to do with anyone else.  More to it, did they even know about him and his?  Seamus did, certainly, but the cross fox still knew little of his cousin's method of sending information.  That won't do.

With flicking ears, the vulpine focused on the task at hand.  He scowled at the ash, then breathed out, relaxing.  With the simple exhale, he began gently pushing ash away from the pathways with soft drafts of wind.  Clearing the main pathways through the jungle made for the best productive start, though he did focus more on the places close to camp, Aine in mind.