A tall man with black hair made his way briskly along a row of burning houses. His once elegant clothes were now full of dust and burnt in places, with cuts from the shattered window. The villagers had yet to douse the flames, and their hope of saving their homes faded with each passing moment.
The man in black gazed in a haunted stare, lower lip jabbering, until he saw her. He stopped for a moment, and hope returned to his gaze. "Hope..." he said, murmuring her name.
She sat on the ground supported by a stone fence, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Dazed and confused, she stared off into the distance, oblivious to Drake's presence. A fine layer of grime covered her face, and her wacky hair was splotchy with ashes and singed where it had been too close to the flames. She held her palms out so they wouldn't touch her knees, and Drake noticed that the fire had burned them badly.
He knelt beside her. "Which one is your house?"
