Dinner was a very cold vegetable stew that they'd already had at least three times just that week. But no one-not even Garten-complained about the repetition. Like Lucy had said before, they hadn't thought that they would get dinner. They just had to be grateful for what they had. Wilfred's father appeared for a brief portion of the meal, eating quickly and casting a whole shadow over the rest of the family with his presence.

He's never around. Wilfred thought, watching the door to his parents' room slam through his own. He saw his mother cast a sad, wistful glance towards her room. She's just like the rest of us. He thought. She suffered in the same ways-and more-that they did. Wilfred just wished that Garten would get that through his thick head and learn some respect. Not that that was likely to happen anytime soon. Garten was too much like his sires. Lucy was wheezing again by the end of dinner and didn't finish her broth.

"Come Lucy," Alyss said, "Come and take your medicine." Lucy looked like she was about to cry. Clearly, she was in some sort of pain.

"I'll make sure she takes it, Mother." Garten said. "I've finished my chapter anyways." Alyss hesitated, and then nodded. Garten was used to taking care of Lucy. He was, frankly, used to watching all of them. Wilfred could remember one time when he was six or seven and he'd wandered off towards the deeper end of the lake; he'd thought he could swim it, turned out he couldn't. It had been Garten who'd shouted at him to stop and not go any further. Garten, for all of his bitter faults, was not a bad older brother. Alyss turned to her younger sons.

"Whittel, Wilfred. Go get ready for bed. The sun's already been down for nearly an hour." Their mother collected the bowls and carried them down the stairs. There wasn't any shouting, so either Thane had left, or he had passed out from his liquor consumption.

"Can we take turns reading until Garten comes back?" Whittel asked, sitting on his bed and swinging his legs while Wilfred changed into night clothes.

"I guess." Wilfred conceded, knowing that Whittel wouldn't quit asking until he gave in anyways. Whittel started, but Wilfred was barely paying attention. It was a fantasy book out of a series that Whittel had been invested in for several months-something to do with pirates and dragons. Whittel had been obsessed with dragons since he could barely talk. Wilfred thought that they were stupid, not that he was ever going to say that to his over-zealous younger brother. Whittel already struggled enough just with raising his hand to answer questions in class; Wilfred would not be the one who told him that his interests were dumb or babyish even if they sometimes were.

Unfortunately, Wilfred was not exceptionally good at staying awake long enough to even take his turn.

"Wilfred, are you listening?" Whittel asked, and that was the last thing he heard before dropping into a deep, deep sleep.

Something was burning. In Wilfred's dream, at least. Something very large and very green was on fire. And not just normal fire; violent, bloody crimson fire. Unlike most fires it didn't flicker down or die out eventually; it only grew higher and higher and higher until it seemed like everything was burning. Like the whole world was ending. Maybe it was. There was horrible screeching and wailing, and such a sense of loss that it nearly knocked Wilfred over. And there was smoke. Everywhere, black fog pervaded the air and the sky and blocked it out. It was stifling. Wilfred couldn't breathe. A screech echoed, turning into his name. Wait, that didn't sound like a bird of prey…. that sounded like-

"Wilfred! Wilfred get up!" Garten was half-screaming at him. "The house is on fire! C'mon, wake up!" Wilfred's eyes snapped open as his older brother shook him roughly. There was smoke everywhere. Portions of the floor were on fire, and the big beam above Wilfred's head was crackling angrily. He startled up, jolting forward as the beam finally cracked. It came down hard and heavy on his and Whittel's bed and dashed through the wooden ground beams and into the level below. All Wilfred could see was fire. Garten was gripping his arm, and yanking him towards the door, not stopping to look or to catch his breath.

"My sons! My sons are still in there!" Their mother was screaming above the noise. Her wailing sounded like the same thing out of Wilfred's dream. Everything was cast in an orange light, burning fiercer and fiercer. Devouring everything, and the only home that Wilfred had ever known.

"Pull your shirt over your face!" Garten shouted. Wilfred didn't argue. They crawled carefully down the narrow staircase, keeping their heads low to avoid breathing in any more smoke than was necessary. The bottom floor was an oven. All the herbs, all the dried plants were ample fuel for a blaze. The smoke smelled like an apothecary. Garten pounded on the wooden front door, which seemed permanently stuck into the stone workings of the house. "Help me!" He screamed. He was just as terrified as Wilfred. Wilfred tried, shoving just as hard, but only garnering splinters from his struggles. Suddenly there was a shout from the other side.

"Can you boys hear me?" It sounded so transcendently calm in the middle of the firestorm.

"Yes!" They both responded at the same time.

"Are you okay?"

"Aside from nearly being burned alive!" Garten replied, eyeing the fire frantically.

"Hang tight. Keep your heads down and get out of the way of the door. We'll be there in a few minutes." It suddenly struck Wilfred that Whittel wasn't with them. Suddenly horrified, he shouted above the crackling of wood all around.

"Where's Whittel?!" Garten's eyes went wide. He gazed up the stairs and swallowed hard. The stairs no longer existed.

"They're alright, ma'am. A little shaken, but alright." It had been Arner. Grumpy, mean ol' Mr. Arner. He was their closest neighbor, of course. And he'd run into a burning building to save the kids who had been caught on his property more than anyone else.

"You're okay!" Whittel came streaking out from behind Alyss, tackling Garten and sending him to the ground.

"Yeah, we're fine. Now would you get off me?" Garten asked, but his tone wasn't as sharp as normal. He was shaken and trying desperately hard to hide it in front of Whittel.

"Sorry." Whittel replied sheepishly, letting his older brother up. He was squinting around. His spectacles must have been lost along with the house. Wilfred turned back to it. It was a crumbling heap of broken stone, ash, and dying embers. Nothing had been spared. There was still a water bucket line toting water onto the remaining flames; but it wasn't really necessary. The fire had worked its way through the bottom floor and now there were only charred remains. Wilfred's Grandfather sat hunched on the ground, neither speaking nor listening. Wilfred wondered if he was even breathing.

"Where's Lucy?" Wilfred turned back when he heard Garten ask that question. Whittel stared at the ground.

"Hospital got here a few minutes ago, just before you two got out." He said softly.

"Oh leapers-" Garten turned in a wild circle and took off running for the small group of medical personnel huddled in a group around someone. Wilfred and Whittel followed in suit. "Let me see!" Garten shouted, shoving his way through despite the loud protests of the doctors and nurses. Lucy was not in good shape.

Later, they were told it was because of the smoke. That was what enticed such an awful reaction. But at the time it was more terrifying than the fire had been. Whittel had taken one look and fled from the sight. Garten sat down beside her. Wilfred just stood there, staring stupidly and not knowing what to do. It was an asthma attack. The worst one she'd had in an awfully long time. Lucy had said one time; "It feels like someone threw me underwater and told me to breathe; I simply can't. And no matter how hard I try, it's like I just sink deeper and deeper." Well, she was certainly under then. The doctors had been trying to pump medicine into her, and she had a big, ugly black mask strapped over the vast portion of her face. But her eyes looked terrified. Wilfred vaguely remembered that Garten had to be forcibly removed. He didn't run off, but he looked like he wanted to. Instead, he just sat down a few feet away from the doctor's workspace with his head in his hands. Wilfred left him alone, and so did everyone else. He sat down too and stared at the slowly lightening sky. What'd we do to deserve this? He wondered bitterly, watching the last embers die in what had once been their home.