Curufin, sheltering behind a rock, flings an arm over his head as the firebird explodes. The blast is partly absorbed by the rock in front of him, but not entirely. It sends him tumbling and knocks him on his ass. Luckily the flaming feathers mostly miss him. He gets up, jerks a feather out of his arm and flings it away. Luckily for him, he inherits his father's affinity for fire and therefore can fend off heat and flame. He ties a bandana around the mildly injured arm, brushes the dust and soot off his clothing, and looks around for anyone who might not have escaped the blast or might have been seriously wounded by the feathers. He has no magical healing powers, but he was one helluva good firefighter and emergency worker in the last world he lived in before he came to the Voidtrecker Express. If he has to, he can lift a person up, sling them over his shoulders, and carry them to whoever does the healing. With luck, nobody on the ground is that badly injured.

It seems the battle is ended, and the red storm has dissipated. He smiles.