Sleeping gas rushes from its canister, laced with wolfsbane.

Neither is enough to sink into unconsciousness; only make it hard to move.

A flaming arrow hits its mark.

They never stood a chance.

Fire races through the house.

The accelerant is well-made; the whole house is aflame in under a minute.

Smoke fills the air - thick and cloying.

The children fall first.

The occupants move to the windows as best they can.

They try to protect the young, create barriers with their bodies.

Everyone collapses where they stand.

It doesn't work.

The wolves strain their hearing, searching for the sirens that would mean their salvation.

Outside, hunters laugh as they look upon the beauty of their destruction.

They hear nothing.

Inside, the Hales continue to burn.