The sun was shining so brightly and beautifully through the windows it almost seemed like nothing could ever go wrong on a day like this.
But looks could be deceiving.
Hannah Carswell knew she was dreaming. In fact, she knew exactly what was going to happen and when it would occur.
She'd had the same dream perhaps more than a thousand times since that day. July 17, 2112. A day, she knew, she wouldn't ever forget. The dream always ended the same, no matter what.
Just as she always awoke from this dream with tears on her cheeks and a scream clawing up her throat.
Eight years old. She'd been eight, simply playing with her neighbor, and friend, Jane while her dad had been working.
Hannah found herself over at Jane's quite often. Not that she minded, she was proud of her dad and the job that kept him away. He would put his life on the line each and every day so that Hannah and the rest of their community could live in peace and safety.
Because her dad wasn't like other dads.
Beck Carswell was a Hunter. One of the few who could protect the innocent from the Rip monsters.
Hunter Nightingale, or simply The Nightingale, was his Hunter name, every Hunter had one.
She remembered asking him one night while he tucked her into bed. As simply as that, the dream switched to a memory, "Why did you pick a nightingale as your symbol, anyways?" young Hannah has asked as she traced the bird on his leather coat with a tiny finger. "Why not something cooler? Like a lion? Or even a Unicorn?"
Her father had chuckled and said, "Well, it's believed that a nightingale's last song, the song that will release it from its earthly life, is always the most beautiful. I once read that in a book, you know, and it spoke to me."
"But what does that mean, Daddy?"
Shaking his head with a smile, he simply leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead, "When you're older, you'll understand."
A pout formed on her mouth, "Awww, grownups always say that."
That made her father grin as he tucked the blankets more securely around her, "Tough break, kid. Now, it's time for bed." Getting up from his place at her bedside, he went to the door and blew her a kiss, "Goodnight, Hannah Banana."
"HANNAH!"
Without warning, the dream shifted from that night with her dad to the eventful sunny day in Jane's charming house.
Jane's bright green eyes twinkling, she held up a popsicle, "Mom says we can have one, as long as we don't make a mess." In her other hand, she clutched a half-eaten green one. The sticky juice already clung to her mouth and hands told Hannah that she'd already started on hers. "Ya want one?"
It was a hot, July day in Salem Massachusetts, and the temptation of a tasty, icy treat seemed heavenly. She'd grinned, more than a couple of teeth missing, "Sure!"
They opted to take our popsicles outside, because eight year olds and popsicles equals a mess. As the girls sat on the paint chipped front steps, savoring their icy treats, Hannah couldn't help but think of her dad. What was he up to right now? Could he be fighting a monster at this very moment?
With their popsicles devoured, and with most of it covering their mouths and hands, they decided to play their favorite game, Monsters vs. Hunters.
Of course, Hannah wanted to be the Hunter, they both did, but since she got to be the Hunter last time they played, it was Jane's turn this time.
Crouching down, Hannah did her best monster impression. Lifting her arms, she curled her fingers into makeshift claws and sneered wickedly, baring her teeth in a hiss.
With a giggle, Jane grabbed a nearby stick and brandished it at Hannah as if it was a noble sword. "Give up, foul beast!" she boldly announced. "Fore you're no match for me, The Lovely Butterfly!" They'd come up their own hunter names, if that wasn't obvious.
Roaring, the so called "demon" stamped her feet as she circled The Butterfly, "Foolish mortal. Can you not see how sharp my claws are? I'll simply rip you to shreds before you will even touch me with your puny holy weapon." She made sure to use the evil laugh she'd practiced in the mirror.
And so, the young girls chased each other around the yard. Hannah, snarling and howling, and Jane, wielding her "sword", striking at her opponent with enthusiastic "Hiyahs"! They laughed and played, as only children can, until they were so tired that they simply fell back onto the soft grass.
For a while, they lay there, looking up at the clouds, pointing out the different shapes they could make out of the clouds.
"Hey, Jane? What do you wanna be when you grow up?" Hannah asked as she glanced over at her best friend.
Jane's brows furrowed over her eyes as she thought, "Hm, well, I think I want to be a doctor like my mom. Mom helps make a lot of people happy. That's what I wanna do. What about you, Hannah?"
She reached a hand out towards the sky, as if she might catch one of the clouds in her palm, "I want to be a Hunter, just like Dad." Serious as a heart attack, she met Jane's wide eyes with her hazel ones.
Jane "ooohed" at that, "But won't that will be awfully dangerous won't it?"
Shrugging, she replied, "Yeah, so? Dad does it every day. Why can't I?
"Won't your dad be worried about you? I mean, I'll be worried about you, Hannah."
Her heart melting a little, Hannah turned on her side and when Jane did the same, she took her friend's pinky in hers, "If I become a Hunter, I pinky promise you that I'll stay safe. I also promise that we'll always be friends, Jane."
Jane smiled, and squeezed her pinky against Hannah's, "Best friends forever, right, Hannah?"
"Right."
"Jane? Hannah?" the voice from the porch belonged to Jane's mother, Rebecca Norman. "It's time to come inside."
As a child, Hannah hadn't recognized the slight tremor in Ms. Norman's voice, or the barely contained anxiety hidden behind her words. It would be years later before she actually discovered it in her dreams. On second thought, make that her nightmares.
Hannah glanced up at the sky as she and Jane made their way back towards the house. She frowned when she realized the sun was about to set. That was strange, her dad usually picked her up by now.
Thinking nothing of it, she merely shrugged it off. He'd been late before, it was not that big of a deal.
When Jane's mother came into view, Hannah immediately sensed that something wasn't right. Ms. Norman stood on the creaky porch, her hands held before her and a white dish cloth clutched between them so tightly her knuckles had turned bone white. The sadness and tears in her red rimmed green eyes had Hannah's small eight year old heart pounding painfully.
Before she knew it, she burst into a sprint, she had to reach the porch as soon as she could, she just had to. Hannah was out of breath before she even stumbled up the steps and into Ms. Norman's arms.
Grabbing the ends of the old shirt Jane's mother wore, Hannah tugged anxiously, her heart in her eyes, "What's wrong? Where's my Daddy?" She never called her father "daddy" in public, she'd always thought it had sounded too babyish. She hadn't even noticed the slip in her words.
Kneeling down on one knee, Rebecca pushed back her short brown hair before she rested both shaky hands on Hannah's small shoulders. She met the young girls fear filled eyes and took a rattling breath in an attempt to compose herself before slowly releasing it.
Looking back, Hannah was positive that her father had been seeing Rebecca Norman. Her grief had seemed too great for the loss of her daughter's friend's parent.
"Hannah," her name came out as a croak. "Your father," she swallowed down a sob. "There was an attack on the Boston settlement. And….your father, your father was injured."