Here's the second chapter. Yay! I just feel so bad because people have been amazing at updating their stories and I'm like "Wait . . . . . Wait for it . . . ." Comprende? It's horrible! Please forgive me!
Duh duh duh DISCLAIMERS!
_
The golden haired girl hastily ran up to her cottage, and and tried to get the only door open. The house itself was made of thick wood, but the windows and door always took some time to pry open.
She rammed her body into it a few times, before it finally cracked open. She sighed. "Mum, the door's stuck again!
A woman in her mid-thirties with curly blond hair tucked pulled into a tight bun came around the corner. Her light brown eyes looked worn and tired.
"Hey, mum." The girl smiled sheepishly.
"Hello, Hekate," she replied stiffly. The brown eyed woman then grabbed the door handle from the other side. "Ready?"
The murky eyed girl nodded, shifting her feet to prepare to push against the old door.
The curly blond haired woman on the other side began counting. "Okay. One, two, three!"
Both tugged and pulled on the thick old door until it made a grinding noise and shifted about three inches in.
The brown eyes woman sighed. "Great, just what I need today. CHARLES! The door is stuck again!"
Through a crack, Hestia could see a man a little older than her mum come around the corner. He had light brown hair and murky eyes like hers, and the village woman often described him as "handsome." Her mother liked to go public places with him to show off that he was already taken.
The man flashed a crooked smile. "What's wrong, Charlotte?"
His wife huffed and pointed to the door.
He rubbed his hands together. "Alright, alright." He grabbed the door handle as his wife stepped back. His eyes connected with the blond girl's identical ones. "Ready? Go!"
She pushed while he pulled, and it eventually groaned open.
The blond walked in the house, her side a bit sore from pushing on the old door. "Da, I think we need to get a new door. Or oil the hinges or something. Same with the windows. They're terribly hard to open, especially this time of year."
The man chuckled and rubbed his daughter's head. "Maybe in the spring, kiddo. Right now it's too cold."
The girl sighed. "Fine. How long do you plan to be gone to the market?"
The brunet rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not too long, Hes. Maybe two or three hours."
The girl nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "So am I to make beef stew then?"
"No," her mother interjected. "It's almost winter. We want to save the meet from the cellar. Make the vegetable soup, would you? The one with mostly green's?"
"From aunty Ingna's book?"
Her mother nodded.
"Okay."
The brunet man helped his wife into her coat before flashing his daughter a smile. "We'll be back soon."
"Bye," Hestia said, grinning.
Her mother bent down and took her daughters smaller hands in her own. "I've shut the windows, and we'll close the door on the way out to keep it warm. Remember to hang the oil kettle back up after you use it, and don't use too much."
"Yes, mum."
"We'll try and hurry, because we've got a big day tomorrow. We have to till the garden again and pull up all the corn husks, then take care of the animals. You've got horses this time, alright Hekate?"
A large smile was spread across the girl's face and she flung her thin arms around her mom's neck and hugged her close. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Her mother laughed lightly and pried her daughters hands from her neck before giving her a light kiss on her cheek. "I've got to go. You're dad probably has the horses ready by now."
"Mum?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"May I go to the fire tonight?"
Her mom gave her a knowing look. "The one Jack will be at?"
"Yes . . . ?" she said, confused.
"Very well. As long as you don't stay up too late."
Her mother gave her one last hug before walking out the door and firmly shutting it behind her, blocking off the cold air.
Hestia walked to the kitchen, her bare feet lightly tapping the wooden floor beneath her. She went up to the wooden counter and used her hands to climb up. The golden haired girl grabbed metal pot from the top cupboard then softly jumped down. She walked through the family room, and to the wooden door at the end of the hall.
The murky eyed girl set the pot down and turned the knob before hitting her side against the door a few times, causing it to groan and creak open.
Grinning triumphantly, she pushed the door open the rest of the way, it's hinges protesting. When it was finally open, she went down the long wooden staircase, bucket in hand.
At the bottom there was a small well-like thing dug into the ground. It had a wooden trap door, and a small stream flowed under it. Unfortunately, it was very hard to open, and it took her several minutes to open the padlock and pry the old thing open. She dipped her pot in the cold water, filling it up halfway. Once that was done, she closed the trapdoor back up and made her way upstairs.
The cooking area was a little wooden room with a small pit dug out in the middle for the fire. Spare branches and twigs were already in place, so she just had to take the stick off the two that held it up, slip it through the pot's handle, and set the stick back where the two others split and made a V on each side. She then grabbed the kettle off the shelf and added some to the wood to help the fire.
The golden haired girl lit a match and tossed it in, making the wood erupt into a nice, hot fire.
She then noticed that she hadn't brought the vegetables up, so she spun on her heel, running towards the cellar. Faintly, the murky eyed girl heard a clang behind her, but decided to worry about it later.
She went back to the basement, mentally congratulating herself the whole way. Usually it took her at least an hour to prepare supper, but this time it only took her about thirty minutes.
Her blond hair flew after her as she ran down the winding staircase, and finally reached the bottom. She spent a few minutes inspecting the shelves, looking for the vegetable jar that her mother put on one of the many shelves.
When she finally found it, she faintly smelt something burning, and mentally sighed. A rat must have fallen into the fire again.
She trudged back up the stairs and closed the cellar door firmly behind her before turning around to go back to the cooking room.
What she saw made her gasp and drop the jar, shattering it with a loud, crack!
The house was on fire.
The beautiful, deadly colors of red and yellow danced along the ceiling, floors, and walls.
But how . . . ?
She gasped in shock. The kettle! She must have knocked it over when she turned to get the vegetables.
Tears came to her eyes as she realized the fire blocked off all exits.
The fair haired girl spun around to get the cellar door open, but jumped back in shock when she touched the handle and it was burning hot.
Hestia held her hand to her face and inspected it with wide eyes. It was an angry red color, and definitely tender.
The teen slid to the ground and choked on a sob.
"Please," she begged, unsure of who she was talking to. Her eyes were focused on the sliver of the moon that she could make out through the smoke. Tears streamed down her cheeks from the smoke and her fear. "Please. Save me."
She smiled bitterly and let out a humorless laugh. She was going to be killed by one of the things she loved most. How ironic. On snowy days Jack was out, running barefoot through the snow, while she curled up by the fire with a blanket wrapped around her. Fire fascinated her, and she thought that its colors and the way it moved was enhancing. Now she was going to be killed by it.
"Please . . ."
Sweat rolled down her face and back. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Hestia took one more pleading glance at the moon, before bright colors filled her vision, and she blacked out.
Jack laughed with the small kids in the village as he tickled and made silly faces at them. For some reason, the brunet boy loved seeing kids laugh. Probably as much as he loved snow, and that was saying something.
Most of the adults had gone to the market, and entrusted Jack with their small children. They had been doing this for a while now, though. About two years.
In the back of his mind, the hazel eyed boy couldn't help but feel like something was wrong, but he pushed it down.
Today was peaceful, with the last golden rays of sunlight flittering over the land, and a sliver of the moon was visible.
Jack suddenly felt someone tug on his old poncho, and he looked down to see the wide, innocent eyes of his sister.
"Where did Hessy go?" she asked, a small pout on her lips.
The brunet boy bit his bottom lip and looked around. No Hekate in sight. He shrugged helplessly. "Don't know, Lizzy. Maybe she had to stay home today." A mischievous smile made its way onto his lips. "Or . . . Maybe she got locked in a tower!" He scooped up the giggling girl beside him and spun her around.
The little brunet still looked confused.
Jack decided to give her hints so she'd figure it out. "Well, she is pretty. And she has long blond princess hair . . ."
His sister's eyes widened and she gasped. "Did the Evil Queen take her?"
Jack opened his mouth to reply, but a voice cut him off.
"Time to go home, kids."
The brunet turned with his sister in his arms, to see both his parents standing by each other.
His mothers hazel eyes were bloodshot and her chocolate brown hair was falling out of the bun she secured it in.
His dad's dark blue eyes were also a little red.
What happened?
"James will take you home," she said, voice hoarse. "I need to talk with Jack and Elizabeth now."
The little kids awed, but scrambled after the blurry man anyway.
Kara but her lip and slowly walked over to her son, who was giving her a suspicious look. "Mom?"
Her eyes watered against her will and some tears traced down her cheeks.
The boy panicked and set his sister down, before grabbing his mom's hand and leading her to a log to sit down.
Jack rubbed his mom's back awkwardly while she continually sobbed into her hands.
A few minutes later, she couldn't cry anymore, so she was reduced to hiccups.
She hugged her son tightly and hurried her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so, so sorry. We didn't know! We got there too late . . ."
The brunet boy stiffened while his sister hugged her mom's legs.
"What do you mean, mommy?" her big hazel eyes were wide with confusion.
Silent tears made their way down her face again as she pulled back to look into her son's eyes. "Jack, Hestia's not coming anymore."
Confusion and panic shone in Jack's hazel eyes. "What do you mean?"
Kara took a deep breath. "Jack . . . There was a fire in Hestia's house-" his eyes widened at where the conversation was going "-and she didn't make it out. I'm sorry."
Jack sat there, stock still.
This had to be a dream. A bad dream. Hekate couldn't possibly be . . . She couldn't be . . .
"She's gone."
