A Village On Fire

One night, when I was nine years old, my parents and I were working on packing things into our cart. Then we heard screaming, and saw fire, and smoke.

"Noleka, get down!" my mom hissed, shoving me under the cart.

I couldn't do anything but watch as three men ran over. My parents tried to fight them, but... they weren't prepared. Soon they both lay dead on the ground.

I huddled under the cart, frozen in fear, as they checked through it and talked happily about how things were going. As soon as they left to go rejoin the others, I bolted. I ran as fast as I could, away from the burning village.

I remember tripping, and it felt like I was on the ground for an eternity. I couldn't figure out how to get back up. I guess it's a good thing Foxglove found me.

"Noleka?" she called gently, before coming over and scooping me into her arms. "Where are your parents?" she'd asked.