Death Hath not Visited, Death Hath not Seen

"Curiosity kills the cat. But that little kitty still has 8 lives."

Something's crawling, crawling ever so slowly, on a heaving white landscape. There is generally nothing on this piece of white land, maybe a random ball of gray cotton but that is not much. There are no trees, no busy city. Nothing. Except this moving black dot.

But the above description was wrong, very wrong, like when you were young and answered 1+2 with 4 on your test. It is but a poor boy's white beaten up shirt jumping up and down as he breathes while he is in dull slumber. His face wears no expression, eyes closed, eyebrows relaxed. His mouth is still and not open, his lips a bit paler than usual. A few minutes pass with no significant motion from the sleeping child until the black dot, it seems to be a insect, climbs up onto his neck, tickling the skin with the dancing antennas and excited thin legs.

There is nothing to be joyous about little ant, there is a giant hand looming over you. One of it's tall fingers lean in and rubs a itchy spot, presumably the resting spot of the miniscule ant for there is a speck of blood on the finger when it is lifted. Poor ant.

"Ugh…ant?"

The boy mumbles drowsily in his sleep, his limbs stretching as he awakes slowly. His room was littered with ants, ants and candy of course, no telling from his roommate. This aforementioned roommate is also asleep, though he is on the ground for some reason. Last time the boy recalled, he was on the top of the rusting bunkbed. The way he managed to roll down every night is quite mysterious, though it's not like everyone else in their orphanage wasn't odd.

A cold shivering hand grasps the metal bar of the old bed and the shaky metal rattles as the hand does the same, the mattress also moves along a bit as if to not be left out. Looking down, the now-bespectacled boy sees his roommate, pale as his bed sheet, the red on his cheeks a faintest pink.

"Nutty?" he asks with a bit of shock as he lifts up his rather life-less, unmoving body of the ground. He pressed his warm hand against the chilly slab of face in front of him and withdrew harshly from the freezing temperature of it. He sighed. How many times had he ended up like this when he rolled off the bed on a really cold day? More than he could count on his 10 stubby fingers for sure. He gently touched his toe against the dirt and found it somewhat cold, like if it was moist. The cabinet was wet with rain that sparkled a bit like dew under small lantern light and he mentally scolded himself for not shutting the window securely. Not like the window panes were really that strong against this winter's cold fierce winds anyways.

He jumped off the sugar-stained bed and grabbed spare pieces of rough cotton cloth and wrapped them around his coughing roommate. He then brushed his teeth, making sure to use as little water he could as he filled their broken glass cup with the cracking sink. Something tells him they'll be doing loads of work today, loads.

Shuffling could be heard by the time he forced Nutty into the small bathroom and he knew it was going to be crowded after a while, they weren't the only kids in the orphanage after all, there were plenty, plenty more. But it wasn't that much actually. It just seemed like there was a river of children when they were all fighting for the bathroom on a winter day, everyone dragging their blankets on the ground or over their heads in a lame attempt to hoard body heat.

Cuddles got there first, dragging a Toothy who couldn't run that fast to the bathroom doors. Seeing the two awake so early troubled him a bit and Sniffles hurriedly shoved Nutty into the bathroom with a kick to make sure he was one of the first five to have access to the bathroom. Sometimes he was such a pain to take care of. Seriously. He really needs to take care of himself.

"Water leaking?" he asked with a doubtful look on his face, for he seemed to be able to predict the answer without being told it and that answer was certainly, to him anyway, not a very favorable answer.

Toothy answered him and his face seemed to clear up a little with acknowledgement that no, unfortunately, he doesn't live in a castle, and the mournful droop of the shoulders reflected his feelings on that matter quite well.

"Yeah, lots."

"Ugh," Sniffles replied dejectedly, and the memory of tiring nights was suddenly on loop and it danced around and around in the spacious cavern of his head.

"Sucks yeah?" Cuddles popped in, his face gloomy and his eyes drooping with misery.

"Sure does."

A drop of water dripped onto Sniffles's head and he sighed. He had a feeling he'd be sighing again soon. He knew it. Just you watch.

As Sniffles went to grab the buckets and maybe a few pans and other hollow shenanigans, Lumpy claimed 4th place, since he was eldest after all, with Splendid claiming 5th right next to him since he would be probably needed for his agility during the hard and long task. The door slammed loudly, unnecessarily loudly, and some with a little bit more sensitive ears perked up a bit at the rough noise. Handy was quite irritated and pushed through the crowd with his lengthy and strong arms to the front, where he would be guaranteed the next 5 slots, and there he sat with a pleased look on his face.

The door opened real quick, only a few minutes later, as the 5 males emerged, ready to fight leaking pipes and impossibly low temperatures in their skimpy clothing. The next 5 followed through. Handy, Flippy, The Mole, Pop, and Disco Bear marched in like robots as the last few waited in line with no frustrating rampages and loud arguments, because today, most would prefer to be last. It meant less minutes working outside in snow when it rained like the sky was sad and pitied them.

The 5 stepped out in hastened fashion, grabbing the gloves and the axes as they set off to work to mend their kid-ran orphanage, it seemed like a storm would be coming soon, and that would be the worst with the cracking roofs and leaking pipes.

"Flippy, axes?" Lumpy asked, running his hand through his hair with anxiety as the boy he addressed counted stock and supplies, bundling them up in small piles.

"Not much," he started, pointing a finger at each.

"5 separate axes," he finished a bit worried.

"Okay, thanks."

Sniffles returned with a limited number of pots and pans, quickly informing that they were out of buckets. Cuddles had snatched them and put them to use and even then though he had done so, the roof still drooled rain. This roof had quite the appetite for their distress even though it was only a roof of a poor run-down house that dripped rain, unlike those of daily-lit mansions with their roofs pierced with gold and silver.

"What about dinner?"

Sniffles frowned a bit, looking down on dinner's importance, and the owner of the voice, a messy blue-haired girl that filled her dirt soiled hair with droopy flowers of blue, returned his frown with a whole face of dislike.

"Fine, Petunia, fine."

The girl, Petunia was her name, nodded approvingly and grabbed the pot and pan extended to her with great pleasure. Sniffles mumbled grouchily to himself, something along the lines of wasting materials for useless things like cooking food in a dirty pot of clay.

"Sniffles, pot please."

A girl with spiky amber hair, though it was more red than brown, asked gracefully and Sniffles gladly handed it over for it was to be used to catch water, which was the most honorable use for a pot that beat cooking any day. (To him, anyways.)

Petunia stuck her tongue at him. Sniffles's tongue dangled out of his mouth while he waved his hands up in the air like crazy, mocking like a chicken about to lay an egg, boasting of it before it has come. Flippy smacked them both on the head.

Minutes later, Cuddles came in through the front door his face white and his fingers tinted purple, body shivering beneath the wet shirt of his that clung to him tightly like glue.

"Storm comin' soon," he said gasping for breath, and the others who had been out cutting wood came hustling back in with the same ill faces and the same dull expressions plastered on a shaking pale face of a broken marionette.

"Wood count?" someone asked, and Flippy found and opened the basement entrance, which is just a plain hole really, nothing fancy. It was pitch dark and he squinted for a shadow of some sort, only to get nothing but black scenery then discomforted the eyes.

"Oh, candle please."

"Don't drop it…" Pop looked on worriedly and the lanky boy who was handling the candle on top a high ladder of smelly wood became aware of the dangerous situation, sweat licking his face even in unbearably cold weather.

"Thanks, Sneaky." Flippy said as he received the candle with incredible ease, swinging towards the inner part of the room like how Petunia flips her pan, enveloping the storage hole with shining light.

Cuddles approached him, a towel thrown around his head, and threw his share of wood into a corner, nearly blowing out the light. He earned a frown directed at him but Flippy picked them up and tied it along with some extra planks lying around anyways. They each handed the boy in charge of supplies the wood they had gathered from slightly snow-topped trees and he quickly put them to use in the fireplace. After the others had come out of the restroom, they tried to do their best mending the already-broken house with the additional workers without depleting the supplies. The bespectacled boy encouraged the lack of a live, burning fire and though it was rather unappealing, they agreed to it with the boy smiling pleased at the execution of his choice.

With the fireplace off and the candle slowly shrinking, the room darkened bit by bit though it was only noon and the birds were chirping still.

The darkened ramshackle house still bustled with activity of a circus and shouts asking for candles and demanding buckets were everywhere, giving it the sound of a unharmonious chorus. Skinny males climbed up and sprawled low, slender females sprinted to and fro, the flying towels like professional acrobats dressed in tight flashy clothes. Wooden planks as slim as the carriers themselves were fitted into gaping holes that sprinkled water and the hallway was like a crowded city's street, or even like the departure floor of the grand glass airport that towered above them outside their windows miles away.

Noon came, and the sun was at it's highest above their heads, shining brilliantly with it's rays. Lunch was announced by clanging of the pot and pan, and they all gathered into the crammed kitchen as Petunia passed out re-used paper plates and cracked cups, hugging the pot of steaming rice tightly in her arm. The heat passed through her skin and her face reddened healthily, a smile slowly spreading along her face.

Outside, it had started to rain loudly, the raindrops falling on the top the roof, piercing it's shabby protection. The clouds grumbled, hungry, and drifted lazily throughout the skies. Thunder struck afterwards. It was a short, sudden sound, like a tiger's growl and it pressed against the ears of the little assembled group. They stopped their joyous lunch immediately as the thunder struck the nearby trash bin, igniting it on fire, the fiery flowers flying up in the air extending their red arms to burn the half-cut down trees. The smell of smoke came wafting through to the kitchen, covering the smell of fresh rice.

"There's a fire!" Lumpy yelled, shoving them out of the kitchen. The crowd of teens, around 11-15, jogged out of the room and with more experience than a average adult, grabbed the coarse material of the rope and pulled.

"Grab the buckets!"

Sniffles obeyed, though who he was obeying he did not know, he was ordered to grab the water-filled buckets so he did so. He passed half to Nutty through the air and hastened his pace, the buckets scratching his knees and bumping into the other's feet and he ran, and he thought he ran pretty fast, as if he didn't have tomorrow ahead of him.

A thin burning finger lapped the walls of stone and wood and the moss-smelling wood caught it's burning passion, spreading through the rooms. It swallowed whole beds and the smoke beat on recently freezing faces. The swaying amber-haired figure missed a step on the long-winded stairs, and she rolled down her hands on her face. Bruised and beaten, she made it alive on the last step of the stair and braced herself with her elbow.

"Flaky!" Petunia screamed.

"Get that pot!"

Out of the corner of her brown eye that glowed red from the burning fire, she caught the sight of it and dragged herself slowly towards it's general direction, reaching it and putting her hand weakly against it's material. She dragged herself up holding the rim of the pot. It was a ancient pot, a very big one too, the ones you would expect to find in dank ruins of some unknown civilization deep inside a unfriendly jungle. It's clay was chipped in fragile places, it's pattern deformed and plain, it's color a dull normal brown. Nothing special. When she dipped her head into the slender neck of the pot, liquid soaked her head and hair.

"It's oil…"

Petunia yelled as she ran down the lower parts of the stairs, holding her dress up like she was dancing with a drunken swag,

"Yes! Throw it!"

Petunia reached the second floor first, her bare feet running over threadbare carpet expertly and joined her.

"To the balcony," she said, breathing hard as they dragged it to the balcony and lifted it up.

Working as quickly as possible they managed to drop it far enough from the house so red daring wisps of ribbon-like flame would not reach.

"There's another!" a scream came from behind, a shriek of high volume. They turned abruptly to face the a lit room like of a lantern, the figures forming meaningful words meant to wish good luck or fortune. Unfortunately for them, this surely would not be considered a lucky situation.

Flaky, as the amber-haired girl was called, grabbed Petunia's arm and demanded her to jump.

"Jump!"

"Explosion's coming!" She screamed, fearing the spilled oil in the central room. Twisting her companion's arm, she gripped the railing and flew off the protruding piece of building. The room exploded behind them, debris and rock following them like comets in the sky, the fire grasping everything in it's reach. No longer meek and controllable, the fire reached the other broken pot and it's black as night sky contents, giving another hearty explosion. The amber girl let go of Petunia's hand at impact with the floor and her wrist twisted beneath her as she fell on top her arm, breaking a bone for a loud crack was heard as she landed harshly against the wet disgusting grass. It was still raining, pouring buckets, and the cold rain fell onto her bare skin and her quickly bruising arm by the seconds and she winced. She tried to speak, produce noise, but something shut her mouth, if it was pain, if it was misery, she didn't know, all she knew was her whole body ached and that she was in distress.

A few feet away from her, Petunia landed face-first onto the ground, her body stretched across a rock like a laundry on a sunny day. Her back was bent and her left leg dangled like broken along with her bruised wrist that was twisted cruelly when they had jumped off the ruined railing.

"Petunia…hear me?" Flaky asked, her voice meek and rasp.

"Yeah. Luckily."

"Let's get up."

Flaky got up clutching her arm and she limped as her feet was numb from sheer impact. With her good hand she lifted her fellow friend up and Petunia clutched her shoulder as they proceeded slowly towards the burning house. The fiery fingers still lingered, they had even gotten worse, and the rain beating down on it did nothing but soak their clothes thoroughly.

"Think they're okay?"

"Yeah. Perfectly fine."

And back inside where rain would surely be welcomed…

"Duck down!" Flippy screamed with all his might. Wood paneling fell onto the ground with a loud clunk and fire and gas and smoke and all other things came tumbling and coming down and through, not a wisp of fresh air existed. Smoke pounded on the nostrils and seeped into the eyes, the sound of the explosion pounding on the ears like drums. Bodies were flung to the wall, and those who jumped directly downstairs found themselves rolling, rolling, straight into the hard brick of the wall. Flame surrounded them in all directions and pushed and pulled, the heartbeats so loud it hurt the ears. Gasping breaths were heard and the front door burned down, a shelf blocking the way.

"The doo-!" Handy cried, a piece of debris smashing his left arm. He coughed half-way and more broken wood came flying down on his arm.

"Pull him out!" Lumpy shouted, beckoning more help as he gripped the irate boy's right hand and yanked. The skin of his arm peeled slightly against the tough wood, the nail digging into some areas until the elder boy decided to move the limb to a more favorable position.

"Screw this!" Flippy swore. He looked at the swelling injury and winced. Handing Lumpy one side of the wood and grabbing Handy to carried him over his shoulder, they moved him out the fuming entrance. A third explosion came. Golden color was reflected in their eyes in a lovely manner, the fog blurring and darkening their pupils. They dropped the heavy load as it pushed them out forcefully onto the first floor's giant smelly rug and Handy grunted as the wood slid back to it's original place, rendering Lumpy's pulling useless. A brick fell on Lumpy's head and he grumbled and fell head-first against rug. The front door was gone by now and one could sometimes catch a glimpse of the outer scenery along with jumping ash like fleas in a cheap motel.

"Down the storage!" Splendid desperately yelled, and his voice could be heard cracking and stuttering clearly with no disturbance. His finger shivered as he pointed at the open flap, not because of frost but of intense fear and the heat pressing onto his flesh harshly. Flippy looked up and frowned a bit, the hole was already warm during the coldest of temperatures, and being in it during a fire would only mean sweating skin and uncomfortable heat. And he was sick of heat.

Splendid sensed his hesitation and sighed.

"C'mon, slowpoke!"

"Fine, fine…" he scowled angrily and with a kick he awoke Lumpy, who replied with a slightly frustrated noise, and they both threw Handy and the piece of wood into the cellar.

"Not the gentlest…," Handy muttered to himself, and the two jumped into the cellar themselves, the flame wrapping itself around the small piece of fireproof wood as it shut tightly, sealing the single entrance.

"Reliable stuff," Lumpy said, pounding on the wood gently, praising himself for buying it with his own money with very obvious pride. Even if it cost an arm and a leg. He didn't say this of course, it would ruin the glorious moment.

"Show-off," Flippy snarled, showing his anger at the incredible warmth inside the little cellar. He directed a kick to nothing but air to accompany his remark and Lumpy glared at him with his dull blue eyes.

"Okay, okay, stop," Handy said weakly with a tired face, then raised his right hand and pointed at the top.

"The others?"

"They'll be fine." Flippy snorted. The squished boy looked at him doubtfully for he sounded rather sarcastic and sarcastic remarks were usually anything but true. And that wasn't exactly the greatest.

Yes, if you still do remember, there are 8 others yet to be mentioned, not in the cellar growling and throwing insults like fireballs and being total immature children. Oh, and those who aren't also outside unwillingly taking a nature's offered shower of course. Well, if you're wondering, they're also screaming fire insanely like little bugs being chased by a lengthy, sharp finger. Here, why don't we move on over to another group of little kids?

"Nutty, Nutty, Nutty!" Sniffles yelled frustrated, hurrying him up along like the stairs as the rest do so as well. His roommate said nothing as a reply to the irritated screaming until he finished the lollipop and carelessly threw the stick away, the fire popping at the new material.

"Annoying."

This only served to infuriate the boy further and had it not been The Mole's gentle reliving touch on his shoulder with his usual soft laugh he would've punched the boy, truly he would. Toothy chuckled a bit at their little scene until a shriek warning of incoming danger fell on their ears and their joyful little run turned into piercing screams.

"It's oil!" came a shout. Their eyes widened noticeably, the fear clearly carved into the very pupils of their eyes and they all ran without any order, their legs almost moving by themselves. The explosion could be described as a thrown brick, except it was a very big one and with size it grew in mass. The force and impact that came from it struck them in the back, and they flew like birds, crashing through a wooden door. Floor, wet soil floor could be felt under the pads of their fingers as they stretched them across the mud-like dirt.

"Ugh…," Sniffles muttered, weeds and filth entering his mouth as he coughed a bit, saliva forming under his chin. Wiping it quickly, he crawled forward a tiny bit and lifted his small head to see Nutty propped up against the cabinet corner. His mouth dropped a bit and he stumbled hurriedly towards the slight figure.

"There's blood…," he said shakily, his hand gripping the skull of his roommate on the back. He looked around. Toothy laid on his back, his leg bent behind in a painful manner under thick metal, The Mole slowly arising with a ring of wood from the door around him. Flame started to enter the room casually and it stuck it's tongue out evilly and lapped at the walls slowly. Extending it's orange tongue northwards, it shattered the light bulb, the glass flying rapidly like rampaging bullets, scratching Sniffle's calf lightly. He hissed.

"Sniff…," Toothy started, but then his mouth fell into his shirt and he choked a bit until he could speak softly again,

"Leg…pull…," he finished stuttering, and Sniffles let Nutty sink into the bed mattress and he messily made his way in his direction, tugging at the limb, tears forming at the lids of his eyes. He was scared, worried, terrified and in front of bleeding comrades who needed help that he could not provide. Emotion hung above him like a dreary rain cloud and he bit his lip to keep back the rivers.

Toothy eyed the start of the drooping liquid and jokingly asked sadly,

"Crying, huh?"

"Shut up."

The leg freed itself after a few rushed pulls and Toothy reached over with his stick-like arms to grab and throw The Mole into the small pile of blanket on the ground.

"The fire…!" Sniffles said hurriedly, and he threw water with insane speed into the open-mouthed fire. It begged for more materialistic objects to be swallowed and thrust down it's fiery stomach and daringly hovered close to the boy. He depleted all the buckets he had and he threw them down in a childish manner, with a quick flick of the wrist and a furious stomp of the foot.

Toothy exhaled loudly as he thought and Sniffles rushed him to hurry, which obviously didn't help since you can't urge or push a brain forward anyways. Though when one is under great pressure common sense does not apply in their world. Toothy ran his hand over the brick walls and slid his fingers through an crack.

"Hey…what's this?" he asked and beckoned them over. Sniffles, the only one who could actually move properly, came over and looked with dull curiosity.

"The old bathroom," he answered, and he dug into the wall with fingers and pulled open the crack. It slid over like a sliding door and dust floated above them, mixing with the smoke, entwining their dirty fingers. The mixture delved into their bodies and The Mole stifled a cough.

"Ah, Mole. Okay?"

"Yes, thanks," he said, holding onto the offered hand of the freckled big-toothed boy.

The water inevitably lost it's one-sided battle with the steaming fire and it started to proceed towards the tiny room baring it's burning fangs.

"Go in." Sniffles said steadily, pushing them into the bathroom and dragging Nutty into it as well, as the fire started to reach the metal bed, heating it like a sword. The iron blushed blooming red and drooled liquid blood.

Outside, the sky seemed to rain fire and it dropped it's flaming pieces of debris, mimicking the way the sky throws down hale for the amusing sight of scattered humans with their scattered brains. The fire pressed down easily like one presses down on baked, soft dough, warm and flexible. The glass broke suddenly and it's piercing knives came flying through the air with it's reflected glimmering light like fairies in a dimly lit forest. One lodged itself in Mole's fleshy ear and he expressed the sudden needle-like poke with a fairly loud grunt. One made it's way near Nutty's blood-dripping injury and stayed there until Sniffles had the sense to sweep it away as one does with dust on furniture during attic-cleaning. The fire slid across the floor like a sneaky ferret and curled itself around the years old cabinet. The ancient thing rumbled a bit as if protesting until it lit up flickering before surging towards the ceiling with new life.

Toothy grabbed the hitch in the brick-covered metal wall and sealed it close shut, the iron squealing like a pig as it moved over the old metal tiles. The flooring of the bathroom was strangely comfortably cold, and the pads of their feet welcomed the sudden new change though it was abrupt. It was dark inside, purely black with no other light or shadow, and all there was the shuffling of feet and light sounds that bounced off walls when one bumped against another.

"Light…light…" could be heard, though who decided to speak with their saliva-glued lips no one knew, and no one probably knows to this day, though the flickering of light was gratefully accepted as the switch did a flip.

There were a few huffs and sighs passed around the room and Sniffles lit up a bit when he noticed that he had sighed once again. The door lit up along with him, thought it was gradual and slow, and was never near the peak to which it would be penetrated through by sheer heat and flying fiery fairies. The first defense, the old bricks, had yet to been broken and the flames copied the waves at the shore, constantly throwing itself onto the barrier. Thought it seemed and looked futile, it effectively wore off the bricks at a steady pace, and the brick wall would not stand invincible in a matter of minutes. These minutes however, were used efficiently by the injured bunch, though only half of it was working with quickened movements and the time dragged on in their head.

Toothy, probably in a time of good luck, found the exit way first and with the excited wave of his thin limbs they threw in the unconscious bunch and dragged their selves in as way. It was a small hallway that was to be used as a shortcut to the attic though one would not describe it as one. It was merely a tube-like area and branched out like trees into different areas of the a-lit house. One in good shape could barely walk up the steep pathway and they climbed it as one climbs the various high mountains and carried over their shoulders the other's limp bodies like loot.

"Ouch!" Sniffles softly yelped. The sound echoing through the tube, making it sound more like a shriek that anything else and it frightened some of the others below.

"What is it?" the voice that asked him seemed worried and the owner of it tugged on the pant leg of the other boy. He was somewhat relieved to find his leg still there and not on the ground twitching slightly ringed by a pool of ketchup-like liquid.

"The exit."

The lid smelled horribly and would no doubt cause quite a lot of rapid coughs from a person with a allergic nose. It was light though not extremely, and was easily tossed away, down into the now burning bathroom. Though one probably would not have heard it's fall if the floor had been of normal condition, it's sizzling was heard quite clearly and sent a wave of fear to circle around their hearts a bit as they clutched more tightly onto their grip. The small path opened up to a dusty attic and the dust attacked their faces as if defending territory. The fire had yet to reach the blurry attic though it was going to pretty soon, with the bathroom below already glowing red ever so brilliantly.

"It smells," Toothy remarked. He poked around the attic and stretched out a old intricate flag, probably belonging to a country that no longer exists and is but a pile of ruins.

"That's quite obvious," the other replied, and the other boy, the one that could speak for now anyways, clambered over and ripped it in half.

"What are-!"

"Bandage."

He pulled The Mole over by the hair and leaned over closely to admire, okay, no he wasn't drooling over it, at the deep wound. He flicked off the glass as the freckled boy stretched and leaned over to reach the other other boy. Yes, the one with the candy addition. Nutty's wound was not a mere exterior scratch, though it was physical, it was penetrating and no cut could be pinpointed amongst the bushy hair. No matter how deep he stretched his finger, it met nothing but perfectly fine scalp or a tangle of sweetened, wet hair.

"Hey, pass that," he said and was rewarded for the trouble he had to go through by opening his mouth by being given a half-piece of flag. It was smelled like wooden dusty attic and was grey and yellow from age. The sewing was loose and was easily stretched and torn, the fabric of the flag definitely not something dependable and expensive. Despite this, it had it's own attractiveness, the pattern sewn on it beautifully done.

That above description was actually really meaningless since it doesn't really matter what you use to wrap your head to stop your bleeding if not much materials are supplied. In fact, he should be grinning with extreme glee that he actually has something to wrap around the other's head. Okay, that was a bit exaggerated.

The natural stick of Nutty's hair, though it was not actually natural, it was just normal of Nutty, helped glue the cloth in place and this piece of flag took a liking to his head and stayed there for a pretty long time. The Mole's piece however, was not so cooperative and earned a few tugs from the irate spectacled boy.

"So. Going out?" Toothy asked a bit nervous, for the metal that clamped the attic door shut started to redden a bit and that was obviously not a good sign.

"Where?"

There was a silence that floated around the room after the sharp sound of speech, and the repetitive noise of Sniffle's doubtful voice filled their minds until Toothy ran a sword through the sky-high silence by tapping ever so lightly on a covered windowpane. Then it hit him.

No, not the imaginary sword, but an idea.

"Get a ladder."

Sniffles looked at him bewildered and was about to question him if not for the sound of the clanking metal rattling like a rattlesnake with it's forked tongue out as if hissing a threat. He asked nothing and passed him a ladder, quietly trusting in this idea he knew nothing about.

It was a good thing he did so too.

The fire broke through the metal and as if following it, Toothy broke through the window. It was not a hard task, but it's sharp blades had cut into his fist. Dripping blood, he let his hand loosely let go of it's clasp on the ladder and the metal thing tumbled slightly down the roof. It was jolted viciously when it hit a railing and jumped the same way after it hit a roof décor. Though it's ride bumpy and not smooth like silk, it landed out on a open area of the forest. The distance was a bit far, but walking back slowly beat burning crisply like Sunday cookies any day, any time.

Or did it?

A/N: Got the basic stuff planned out, I hope this chapter and the previous wasn't boring with the intros of the main protagonists. Also hoping I have their personalities down correctly... At first, I didn't think there were a lot of characters to manage but by the time I got past Petunia and Flaky jumping off the railing I had to open a new document to keep track of the characters and their actions in the fire + the way of exit they used… And I still haven't even finished up all the character group's individual exit ways in the orphanage yet! For those wondering why Flaky is so brave in this (and also why their personalities are a bit different), it's because this is before the show's storyline so most of them still have umm…"normal" personalities and body parts.

And: I see Sniffles as a mother hen.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own HTF.