Page 17 of Of Flames and Fallacies

My eyes widen when I see her: the little girl from the market. That same doll gripped tightly in her small hand. Her mother holds her and speaks to a man. He pulls and pushes feverishly against the door, as if testing the lock. I slam a fist against the window and the hot glass nearly splits the skin on my knuckles. The three of them whip their attention toward me.

“The door is tied off!” I scream over the sound of roaring flames.

They stare at me, trying to decipher what I’m saying. I shift my focus to my surroundings for something to break the glass but only find small rocks the size of a coin.

The door thuds again, and as I peek back into the window, the father is ramming into it with his shoulder.

“It won’t work! We have to get you out through the window!” I point repeatedly at the window.

They shift their gazes to each other. The father disappears into the thick smoke of another room, returning with a chair. I back up in time for him to smash it against the window. The second attempt splinters glass everywhere. The heat of the fire swells, and I wipe away the sweat that trickles down into my eyes from my forehead.

I stretch my arms into the window. “Here! Climb through, and I’ll help pull you out!”

They lift their daughter first. Her arms outstretched with the doll clasped in one hand. As she gets close, the father’s grip falters with a wicked cough. I slingshot forward, broken glass scraping the undersides of my arms as I try to grab for what I can. My fingers close on the soft fabric of the doll, and the girl falls just out of my grasp. Her body hits the ground with a thud that makes my stomach sick.

I shove the doll down into my bag to free my hands once more. “Again! Again!”

But the mother and daughter’s movements are sluggish, and the father is unresponsive on the floor. A thick fog of smoke clouds the room, burning my eyes.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A man charges me with a sword from the left, stealing my attention for a moment.

By the time I look back into the window, all three of them are on the ground.

Motionless.

I’m not sure if they’re unconscious from the smoke. Or worse.I can’t think of worse right now—

“Wake up, wake up,wake up!” My throat burns at how hard I scream. But they don’t move. Black smoke spills throughout the rest of the room, clouding my vision of them.

The man’s silhouette in my periphery grows larger and larger. My gaze is pulled away from the window, and I back pedal as the space between the man and I closes quickly. Hesitantly, I turn and run for the trees. Daeja hisses in one ear as my heart pounds in the other. A cough sputters my breath, and I slow because of it. The racing footsteps close in. A hand grabs the back of my hood, and I spin to try and dodge him.

“Daeja!” I cry.

I turn to face him head on as he narrowly avoids grabbing where Daeja lays. Before I can act, her weight leaves my shoulders as she lunges off me and onto him. He screeches in surprise, his sword clattering to the ground, and his grip on me falters.

The man falls backwards, his body thumping heavily on the ground. Daeja’s mouth is latched onto his nose as she wriggles her body back and forth vigorously.

Swiping the man’s sword from the ground, I charge as he recovers and grabs Daeja with both hands. He rips her from his face, rolls, and pins her tight under his hands. She wriggles with a stolen cry as his hands clench around her small throat.

I don’t give it a second thought.

I sink the sword into the middle of his back. The blade slices through his flesh with a squelch I wish I could block out.

He freezes. A wheezed breath squeaks out of his mouth.

I pull the sword free and kick him off Daeja. He crumples to the ground effortlessly, stilling as he stares up at the night sky blankly.

My blood rushes in my ears, and my hands tremble as I toss the sword to the side. I blink through blurry eyes when I drop to my knees to gather Daeja in my hands.

“Are you okay?” I whisper through a tight breath.

When she opens her bright white eyes, it unlocks a torrent of relief in me. I pull her into my chest, cradling her weak body.

She saved me.

A rough, cracked purr rumbles from somewhere deep within her chest. I dig in my satchel for my water flask, and my hand briefly brushes against unfamiliar fabric. My brow furrows as I remove it from my bag. Starlight illuminates the object, and I release a choked gasp.

The little girl’s doll.

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