CH 1 How it began
The young girl lay in her bed clutching a stuffed bear, sleeping soundly. Her dark curls fell around her face in a tousled way that suggested that she was just too young to care about her appearance yet. Somewhere in the house a spark jumped and caught on a hearth rug. It wasn't the smell that woke her, it was the burning in her throat of the hot ash. She heard her mother scream and it punched through her daze. She stumbled from her bed and grabbed the door handle, searing her hand she jumped back and clung to her bear. The air in the small room became harder and harder to breathe the hotter it got, and the more it filled with smoke. Terrified she began to wail and backed closer and closer to her wall. Her back hit it at last. The wall! There was a window! She could get out and run for help. She stood up just as the glass shattered in around her head and a strong arm reached down and scooped her up and out the window. The air outside was cold and filled her lungs sweetly.

"My mommy and daddy! They're still inside!" She shrieked at the man holding her.

Before she could properly register what was going on she was in the soft breast of a woman who began to croon to her. She realised she was shaking and crying. When had she started crying? Where were her mummy and daddy? A fresh sob threatened at her chest.

"What's your name sweety?" the woman finally asked

"B-Bev." the little girl choked. The woman smelled like spices, but sweet at the same time. The smell calmed her.

"My husband, he went in there to get your parents, my son has gone to the village to get the people to put out the fire. Why do you live out here, nearly in the woods?" Her voice was kind and soft

"Daddy likes his privacy, he needs it to write."

"You're daddy's a writer?"

Bev's answer was cut off by the sounds of more screaming from her home and the sudden thundering of foot steps from the town. It seemed the whole village had come with buckets and sand and loud voices. There was a flurry of commotion and Bev quieted her crying for a moment. Soon however they dragged two limp forms from her home. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. Where were her mommy and daddy? They needed to get daddy's typewriter right away. He would need that to finish the play.

"The typewriter! The typewriter! DADDY NEEDS THE TYPEWRITER!" Bev squirmed away from the comfort of the woman's arms.

She fell into the dirt and ran towards the house. Stumbling she turned to look what she had tripped on. An arm. An arm. An arm. Why was there an arm? Why was the arm wearing mummy's ring from her great auntie Hellen? An arm. Realisation hit her tiny consciousness like a sac of bricks. Daddy didn't need the typewriter anymore. Mommy didn't need aunty Hellen's ring anymore. Bev didn't have parents anymore. Or a home anymore. She fell next to her mother's body and wept. She was in some way aware of the motion around her, but it didn't matter. Mommy and daddy were eternal. Mommy and daddy had always been. Always. And now they were... She couldn't finish the thought. She was three years old and the concept of the finality of their death was not quite there.

Bev was starting to get very tired. She just needed to lay down for a little while and then mommy and daddy and her would have breakfast, and daddy would write the play, and mommy would bake the bread and maybe she would even get to help measure the flour. Bev laid down and curled into the crook of her mothers elbow and let the exhaustion take her.

Dreams were uneasy as she slept fitfully. She caught quick snapshots of the world as she floated between sleep and wakefulness.

"No other family"

The smell of sweet spices

"There is no other choice"

Extinguishing a candle.

"We have no obligation to this child."

A small light in the distance

Bev woke up in an unfamiliar room with a slightly familiar feel. The walls were plain grey stone and there was a small table in the corner. As her eyes scanned for a window she noticed a crucifix on the opposite wall. Realisation dawned on her, she was at the church. Suddenly a sick feeling tore through her as the memories of the previous night came to her. She sat numb for a moment and then as though some dam had been realised began to sob loudly. It only took a few minutes for someone to find her. It was the woman from last night. The woman picked Bev up and held her to her breast in the same manner, but there was nothing soothing this time. There was an aching between her shoulder blades. Everything felt so raw.

"Now sweety, is this anyway for a lady to act?" the woman said softly after some time. Bev was so taken aback by the question that she stopped crying and thought.

"No, I guess it isn't" she replied earnestly.

"Why don't you stop crying and let me brush your hair? I'm Denika, but you can call me whatever you like."

Bev nodded obiently and sat still in her lap as Denika brushed through her long, almost purple, and now dirty hair. This assuaged Bev for now and made her think of her mother. But not in a way that made her want to cry.

"You're going to come live with me and my family now, Bev," Denika said shortly but kindly, "you have no other family and we volunteered to take you since we were the ones that found your home."

Bev stared silently ahead for a moment.

"Where do you live?" she replied

"Wherever we please. We are travellers Bev, you will get to see the world with us. See many beautiful things and meet many interesting people." Denika's description was cut short by two men entering the room.

One was tall and burley with a bandage wrapped around his hands and arms. He had dark hair and eyes with a stern face. His skin was that of a man that worked outside, seeming to have dirt and hard work worn into it. He looked about thirty. The other was gangly and awkward looking and seemed to be about twelve. He had the same dark hair and eyes but his bellied the innocence of youth that years of hard labour had not jaded over. For the first time Bev really looked at the woman cradling her. She looked nothing like these men. Her skin was fair and so was her hair. Her eyes were green and exotic looking and her smile was wide and kind. Her eyes betrayed her pale skin truly showing the wear of her work, whatever it was.

"This is my husband, Orland. And my son Edmund." The man gave her a look that felt like a scolding but the boy took a few steps forward and got on one knee.

"I think your missing something" he said as he held out her stuffed bear.

The bear did not relieve the ache between her should blades, but it did ease some of the ache in her heart.