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I knew exactly what they would think if they saw us together outside of lessons and prayer. We were too old to continue friendships with the opposite sex. It was considered improper, and they would punish the transgression.

I held up a hand so he wouldn’t say anything more. “Don’t take this away from me. I need it. It’s—” Another sound silenced me. “Did you hear that?”

He shook his head, looking at me like my parents often did after my nightmares. “I hear nothing, Zaria.”

I let out a breath. “I have water to fetch.”

He lingered in the clearing while I collected my bucket and basket. He wouldn’t return to the village with me. We knew better.

I made my way to the well, listening all the while, but no more of the strange sounds came. I don’t know what I expected. Nothing exciting ever happened here.

I was lugging the heavy bucket toward the house when screaming drew my attention away from my task, sending water sloshing down the front of my skirt as I hefted it to rest between my feet. The air shifted, and the strange noise returned. Like the beating of birds’ wings, only…magnified. I turned in a circle, seeking the source of the shriek. This wasn’t the cry of children at play but blood-curdling screams. They grew closer, striking fear into my bones. My heart hammered in my ears as the cries grew louder.

My blood ran cold when I laid eyes on the carnage.

I couldn’t process the scene. Huge, winged creatures, like those of my nightmares, darted through the air, igniting our small village and the surrounding fields with streams of fire that poured from their ferocious mouths.

This couldn’t be real. Had I fallen into a fever dream? But even my nightmares had never been this terrifying.

I stood rooted in place, fear keeping me in its clutches. Crops burst into flames all around me and the storehouse exploded, finally pulling me from my catatonic state.

“Our crops!” I gasped. We would lose everything if we didn’t act, and I knew that’s where everyone would be. Saving the crops.I had to go find them.

The acrid smoke laced with the familiar scent of the herbs hit me, and I hesitated—my intolerance. I was breathing them in. The air was thick with fumes. No wonder I was experiencing waking nightmares. I needed to get away from the poisonous air.

But I couldn't hide while we lost it all. I heaved with the indecision, finally giving into the fear of loss and snatching up my bucket, sure I’d find the village forming a water line to put out the fires.

Downdrafts beat overhead, the massive wings drawing my attention to the heavens and to the monstrous creatures. A shriek died on my lips. It wasn’t real. It was the smoke and my terrible imagination. Fear tightened in my gut, and my hands shook. My throat burned, but no more sounds came from me. Every instinct told me to run. To hide. To get away from the visions from my nightmares.

No.

I wouldn’t allow myself to cower. I ran toward the fire, but the village wasn’t collecting to put out the blaze. Instead, they fled. I called after them, but few listened, too concerned with their escape.

“We will lose everything!” I screamed in frustration.

“Azariah.” I heard my mother before I saw her, and by the use of my full name, I could tell she wasn’t happy. “There you are. Come quickly!” Mother called urgently from across the yard, her voice full of fear and indignation.

“We have to save the crops,” I insisted. We’d endured too many winters after bad harvests where we all starved and the weakest didn’t make it, through many months surviving on roots and what Father could bring back from the barren woods.

This was so much more. Our entire livelihood burned, and I was only one girl. We needed to come together to save as much as possible. Even if I could get close to the fumes without them sending me into an attack, I could hardly do anything with one pail. I turned from the flames as mother stormed toward me.

She grabbed my arm, digging her nails into my skin. “You will never listen, will you? Insolent child. Your life is in peril, and your head is in the clouds.”

“I—” I objected, but she yanked harder, dragging me away like we weren’t under siege.

“We must go.” Her voice carried an emotion I couldn't place. More than fear, deeper.

The tone got my feet moving, forcing me to run to keep up with her long strides. Questions died on my lips, knowing this wasn’t the time to test her. My questions were never welcome, and in this mood they would only bring forth her wrath. I’d rather walk toward the flames than subject myself to her anger.

We rounded the corner in front of the gathering hall, but she dragged me past the doors.

“Where are we going?” I waved at the fae filling the small space. “We need to organize—” But my words faltered when I laid eyes on the fae who were carrying sacks and crates into one of the root cellars.

Mother didn’t break her stride when Father appeared with a large bag over one shoulder to fall in beside her.

Wails of pain echoed in my ears as they pulled me down the cellar stairs beneath the earth. A wall of cool air hit us, making the intensity of heat from the fires above more apparent. My eyes slowly adjusted, and I found my sisters already here huddling with my brother.

Why are we hiding and not helping?