Hopes and Dreams?

Chapter Two: Inside the Fire

Standing outside the flames of the cabin Ashlyn and Roxas once lived, fear was overtaking the young man. The cabin had just collapsed, and there was no way of telling if either Roxas or the boy, Eric, could come out again. Stacy, gripping onto Ash in fear, hid her face in his mane. Ash just couldn’t believe that it was coming to this. He swallowed and gently pushed away Stacy, changing in a white light into his human appearance. He let out a roar of anger and tried to go into the fire, and Stacy snagged his arm. “No!” she said out of fear. “You’ll go, too!” Ash dropped to his knees, his short brown hair covering his eyes and tears. “Damn-it! She’s my best friend and she was my mate once! And those are OUR sons!” he yelled, tears falling. Stacy sighed and patted his back. “We can only wait and hope,” she said quietly, looking at the fire burning bright, perhaps even more so than before. Is the one who did this happy he killed four people?

Inside

Roxas watched for the fire, jumping over fallen beams and possessions. Eric grunted in annoyance and kicked a beam that was lit up on fire away from him. Roxas was trying desperately to get into the blocked doorway, and a combusted noise proved that Ash had once again left his gun in the wooden case. Roxas yelped and felt a searing pain in her hip, a bullet that got caught in the barrel of the shotgun must have been fired off from the heat. She limped up the stairs that were collapsing and Eric followed her, his eyes on her wound. She ignored it, or tried to. It hurt much more than one would think, but, hey, it was nothing compared to some things she had gone through. “Where’s the boys’ bedroom?” asked Eric, and Roxas grunted, pulling herself up to the top step of the stairs. “To the left: first door on your right,” she said and panted, the smoke bothering her eyes and breathing. Eric nodded and headed to said door, kicked at it a few times and it gave in slightly once Roxas bit her fangs into the hot door. Eric kicked as hard as he could one last time and the door cracked, his fears increasing as he heard a scream from a small boy. “Dae; Dae, just hold on, son,” Roxas said and watched as Eric broke down the door. Roxas stepped in and Eric caught sight of a small golden-haired boy holding his knees to his stomach and crying into his kneecaps. “Is that Daemien?” he asked and Roxas nodded, going over to the young, crying boy. She licked his face and he looked up from his knees. “Mom!” he shouted and hugged her neck. Roxas smiled and Eric walked over, watching where he stepped. “Come on. Rox, where’s your other pup?” he asked, and Daemien sniffled a bit, climbing onto his mother’s back. Roxas winced in pain and limped out of the room. “I’m not sure. Dae, love, where did you see Al last?” she asked her son, and Daemien wiped his eyes. “I saw him in the living room when Dad put us down because he heard you howl in the woods,” explained the young boy. Eric nodded. “And of course, it’s blocked. Rox, you have an axe around here, or anything close?” he asked. “No, I don’t, Eric. But we do have a good collection of thick swords. Care to try one on the doorway?” she asked and Eric nodded. Roxas led Eric down the stairs, and a creaking made her stop.

CRASH!

The stairs gave in, and the group fell into the floor. As Daemien sat up, he saw his brother’s wolf toy. “Mom! I think Al’s in here!” he pointed out and Roxas stood, her leg now throbbing much worse. Eric pulled himself up, grunting. He nodded to Daemien and Roxas, the two heading towards where the small wolf toy was siting on an engulfed rocking chair. “Seems we fell right into the living area,” Eric pointed out. “Yeah, we did, but that still hurt,” Roxas said. She sees Daemien snag the wolf toy and he held it to his chest. Crying grabbed Eric’s attention, and he looked at the area where a small children’s fort was. Roxas growled and clawed at the plaything, tearing the front open. “Alphonse?” she asked, and saw nothing. She growled in frustration and Daemien got onto Roxas’ back again. She bit her lip slightly with a fang and sent a heavy, annoyed paw at the plaything. It broke and that’s when she saw Alphonse: he was holding his arm, crying in a corner, staying low to the floor. She sighed in thanks and dashed over to her son, snagging him up by his shirt back. He looked up and saw the familiar fangs of his mother;

That’s when the ceiling came down.