Another mid-week update. It is kind of short, but I promise Erik and Christine will finally meet in the next chapter. Then we will begin to really learn more about their past. See you guys on Sunday!

Chapter 8: The Hectic Hawk

The flames had no restrictions. They consumed everything, flickering and snaring against the obsidian sky. It destroyed the wagon seat she had rested on, her clothes, the costumes, the memories, her sense of security. Despite the heat that singed her skin and lungs, she was frozen, unable to process the screams of her friends and the desolation in front of her. How did a simple travelling caravan come to this? Only a few days ago, the sun was bright and they were laughing and trudging along. Although it seemed stressful at the time, Christine began to realize how comfortable she was there. It was like her life was finally beginning to restart.

Now she stood in fear, watching that precious dream burn to a crisp. Yet, with all that commotion, nothing scared her more than the black silhouette standing still in front of the flames. He stood tall, with a slim, menacing frame that seemed to tower over the madness with utmost control, like a lone puppeteer masterly crafting his evil plan. Christine stood petrified, imagining him turning to lay his beastly eyes on her, and pull her into his fiery destruction. She gripped onto the rocky ledge she hid behind to prevent herself from running away in fear.

A loud pitch scream caught her off guard. Her eyes were drawn to two men struggling to drag her hysterical ballet instructor. Madame Giry was pinned between them as they pulled her from the flames. She screamed and reached outwards towards the wreckage. Even from this distance, Christine could hear the panic shrill of her voice, calling out to her only daughter that was dragged by her hair not far behind her. Christine watched in confusion as they were led in opposite directions. Then she was hit with the sickening realization that her friend was being taken to the shadow.

Meg's capture presented her like hunted prey to a collector. He had one arm wrapped around her waist and while the other pulled her head back against his shoulder. Christine could see the stubborn courage in Meg's eyes diminish as she gazed upon the shadow's face. Despite the flames, she looked as pale as a ghost.

The silhouette man then moved, slowly and purposefully. He lifted a lone, long finger to her chin, as if to get a better look at her face. Christine waited, in bated breath, for his next action. She could not process what he would do, nor the fate of her only friend. The tears came down her cheeks instantly. She whispered her friend's name like a small prayer for her safety. Was he going to kill her? Was he going to hurt her? Did he plan to defile her? Or throw her into the flames? Oh, Christine could not imagine the horrors he had planned!

The man removed his finger from her chin, placing it at his side. He said something to the man, who then dragged her back the way she came. Meg screamed and fought with all her might, but it was useless against the man's burly strength.

She needed saving. Christine was the only one who could save her.

You're too blinded by your foolishness to admit the truth.

No. Christine thought. Now was not the time to be haunted by her past.

Mustering up the little courage she possessed, Christine began to scale around the small cliff, gripping onto the rocky terrain for her dear life. In any other situation, she never wouldn't have considered scaling the edge of the plateau. Luckily it was too dark for her to see the long drop down. The plateau had little places for her to hide if she tried to walk straight across it, so circling the side of the cliff to the back of the caravan was, unfortunately, the best option. Then at least, she could climb up behind the caravan and use wagons as a shield from the dark man.

She panted, trying to blink away the tears that raced down her cheeks. If she failed, they would all die. She could still hear Madame Giry crying out for "ma fille" and it shook her to the core. She prayed that she would be able to save them. Just this once, she begged, she wanted to be able to save someone she cared about.

She was exhausted by the time she climbed around the back of the wagons, her muscles burning and joints aching. She climbed up just high enough to see over the ledge, seeing no moving figures behind the caravan. She quickly climbed up and collapsed on the gravel, panting heavily. The stars were gone and replaced with a thin cloud of smoke and flames. She could feel the heat more intensely, her body already drenched with sweat and her lungs full of soot. She coughed, instantly covering her mouth to muffle the sound. She did not want to lie here. If she was caught, she and everyone she had tried to save would be doomed. More importantly, she did not know how much more of this smoke she could inhale.

She rolled onto her stomach, searching through the embers for André's wagon. Everything was a blur but in the distance she could see the pointed wheels that belonged to the manager's wagon. From what she could see, it seemed untouched by the flames. She raced over to it and ripped off the canvas where it connected to the wooden frame. Clumsily, she frantically climbed in, knocking over boxes and books. She whimpered in fright as she realized that her panicked entrance was loud enough that someone could have heard her. Every bone in her body begged her to hide behind the books until this nightmare was over.

Can you be brave for me, Christine?

She clenched her fists. Yes, she could be brave.

She turned to the bird in its cage. It screeched and flapped its wings in distress. The wagon was beginning to fill with smoke and both knew the flames would engulf them soon. She pulled out the note from her bodice and ran to it. She was distracted by a piece of empty parchment. André's note was not urgent enough, the Changy's needed to know that they were already under attack. She grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled a frantic note.

The caravan has been attacked, everything set aflame. We need you urgently. Save us!

Her handwriting was almost illegible from her shaking hand, but she wrapped it around André's note and replaced the string around them both. She turned to the hectic hawk. She tried to coo and calm it, but the bird grew more frantic. She tried to fit her finger in between the bars to reach the small container attached to its back, but the falcon turned and bit her fingers, causing her to yelp and pull her hands out. Instinctively, she sucked on the hawk's cut on her knuckle.

She turned towards the front of the caravan, expecting to see someone there to capture her after hearing her. But she saw no one. She began to panic. They would find her soon. Taking a final deep breath, Christine quickly opened the door and reached her hand into the cage. She grabbed the bird by its feet. The hawk flapped its powerful wings around her, causing her to squeal. She fought the wings and the bird's sharp beak that cut at her forearm. Quickly, she opened the container and pushed note in. She replaced the lid as she walked to the side entrance. She prayed that no one was out there.

She leaped out of the entrance. With one last ounce of courage, she threw the bird into the air.

"Go!" she cried, gripping onto her now bleeding forearm.

The hawk spun and stretched out its long wings, majestically shooting up into the air. It flew quickly into the darkness

For the love of God. She prayed. Please make it to Raoul.

"NO!" A voice hollered. Christine leaped into the air and turned. A large man with a small, cylindrical hat glared at her menacingly. He looked out at the bird, then back at her. With an enraged snarl, he pulled a large curved sword from his back and raced towards her. Christine screamed and ran the opposite direction. Forget the shadow, forget remaining hidden, Christine had to escape.

Christine had often raced Meg to the stage or through the small Parisian parks they would frequently visit. She often beat her by minutes despite Meg's phenomenal physical shape. Christine attributed it to her longer legs. Yet now, Christine felt as though she was a turtle escaping and raging bull. She ran past the burning wagons until she came out to an opening. To her left, a straight drop below, to her right, the large wheeled cage filled with her friends. She had an opening in the middle which led further up the small mountain, her only chance of escape. Outside of the cages were two guards who turned to her when a familiar voice screeched out her name.

"RUN CHRISTINE! RUN!" Meg yelled.

That was all she needed. Filled with a new surge of adrenaline, the young soprano sprinted up the ledge. She lifted her skirt and leaped upwards, wasting no time in climbing the rocks as she had beforehand. She stumbled a few times, but could easily recover herself. Once she was almost to the top, she dared to look behind her.

The two guards stood by the cages, watching her above. She furrowed her brow. Was no one chasing her? She searched for the other man that caught her by André's wagon but could not find him either. She exhaled, leaning against a large boulder, watching the flames below. She didn't want to abandon her friends, but maybe she could find help in the city. She could at least tell André and Firmin that she delivered the note to the Changy's.

Her thoughts were cut short when she heard a startling noise. She looked around to see a silhouette running towards her a mere few feet to her right. Christine felt her heart stop beating.

That's impossible. He was nowhere near me!

She watched in horror the shadow man raced towards her with seemingly inhuman speed. She turned and ran, giving one last glance behind her when she thought she was free.

No matter how fast she ran, one thing was certain. He was getting closer.

Please rate and review! I love your feedback!

Guest: Welp... he unfortunately was involved. However he does have a lot of growing to do and Christine will be a huge part of it. Light at the end of the tunnel! Thank you!

Lucyole: Thank you for your cookies for inspiration! It is nice to hear your thought process. More to come to answer those questions, I promise!