"Isaac?" August called into the darkness. She heard another groan. "Are you okay, buddy?"
She walked carefully forward wondering where he had fallen, because below her the floor seemed to be solid stone.
Past a small room that contained the remains of two chairs, a stone fireplace, and a stairway in the far corner, she entered what had once been the kitchen. There wasn't much left of it, but the large porcelain sink and stone countertop still remained.
Shelves were carved into two of the stone walls where dishes were still nestled protectively, and ivy had penetrated through the one small broken window that looked out onto the forest in the back. A charred black wooden island stood—barely—in the center of the room.
