Cicadas are crying off in the distance as hardworking farmers cut down bundles of hay and grass. The late Summer heat is sweltering as there are no clouds in the sky to provide relaxing shade below. A cool breeze passes over the fields causing the laborers to stop and wipe the accumulating sweat off their brow. They take a brief break to enjoy the fresh air before returning to their mundane responsibilities. Boring and uneventful, but nevertheless peaceful. A typical harvest day comes and passes by as another quiet morning ends in the small, rural village known as Ryewood.

Located in the middle of said village lies a stone well where people are gathered. All of them have urns, pots, and buckets and are patiently waiting in a line to use it. Among them, and the last in line, is a teenage girl. Burgundy hair that stops slightly below her shoulders, emerald-green eyes, and slightly tanned skin from working outside in the Summer Sun. Family friends and neighbors would often call this girl “pretty,” but she would always accept those compliments with a grain of salt. When her turn finally comes, she starts to pull the water bucket up from the well before her eyes are abruptly covered by someone’s hands, causing her to let go of the rope with a splash.

“Guess who?” asks the stranger; masking their true voice in a low rumbly tone.

The village girl pouts as she hears the stranger's voice. “Oh, Emile! You joker! Stop that before I spill water all over myself!!”

The stranger laughs and takes away his hands. “Hahaha! Sorry Lauren. Couldn’t help myself,” he states as he backs away from her. “How’d you know it was me?”

“You do this every day,” Lauren sighs. “Don’t you get tired of doing the same prank?”

“No… not when it’s with you,” Emile boldly flirts as he flashes a smirk with a wink.

Her ears turn red as she is caught off guard with his flirtatious remark and gestures before frowning and delivering a swift kick to Emile’s shin, causing him to yelp in pain. “Stop saying those kinds of things!! You’re so embarrassing!!” Lauren yells. She watches him laugh in pain as he rubs his shin before noticing the particular attire that he is wearing. She indignantly huffs out, “Why do you have all that?”

Emile is wearing simple commoner’s clothes, but he is also equipped with basic militia gear: a dented kettle helm to protect the head, worn out leather armor, and a simple wooden spear and shield to defend himself with. “Oh this?” he asks, raising his spear as he makes weak stabbing motions in the air with it. “The village militia needed more people, so I volunteered. I look pretty cool in this armor, right?”

Lauren watches him for a moment and hesitantly answers, “I… guess? But why does the militia need more people though?”

“Apparently some bandits were spotted not too far from here, so the village council thought it would be a good idea to momentarily add to our defenses. You know. Just in case.”

“That makes sense. Do you think anything is going to happen then?” Lauren asks before turning around to the well to retrieve water once more.

“Probably not. I mean there isn’t anything really special with our village. All we do is just grow wheat and raise farm animals,” he remarks wistfully, shrugging his shoulders as he plays around with his lent spear. “Doubt anything exciting like bandits attacking will ever happen here.”

Hearing the sloshing of her clay pots being filled; Luaren interjects, “I don’t think being attacked by bandits would count as something ‘exciting.’ It sounds like a rather terrifying situation to be in.”

Emile starts to chortle at Lauren when he hears her comment. “Are you scared?” he rhetorically asks. He then smugly smiles at the teenage girl. “Don’t worry, Lauren. I’ll protect you when the bandits come! I promise to lay my life down for you! This I swear! Or else my honor will be forever sullied!” he asserts proudly; pointing a thumb to his chest as Lauren finishes up filling her pot with water.

With that loud statement heard by everyone nearby, the teenage girl gets self conscious and quickly notices the snickering onlookers around her. Lauren then stands with her back straight and her hands on her hips as she scowls at Emile’s obnoxious visage. “Can you stop saying such embarrassing things in public all the time?!” she yells and rebukes the young militiaman. “You’re going to give people the wrong kind of idea!”

“What kind of ‘idea’ do you mean by that?”

She looks around before lowering her voice so that only she and Emile could hear. “Everyone might misunderstand that you might like me or that we are a couple or something…”

Emile gives Lauren a look of genuine shock and confusion. “But… I thought it was obvious to everyone that I liked you though?”

Lauren is first dumbfounded by Emile’s casual confession before turning angry at him. “You’re teasing me again, Emile! You shouldn’t play around with my feelings like that! You jerk!” she states, kicking his shin again.

The teenage militiaman squawks in pain. “But, I’m not teasing you this time though!” he retorts. “I really do like you!”

Lauren kicks his shin again. “Liar! You’ve been saying stuff like that ever since we were 8 years-old!” 

“Ow!! Ow!! Stop kicking me!! That hurts!!” Emile shrieks as he drops his spear and shield and raises his hands in surrenderance. “I’m not joking this time! I really do like you, Lauren!!”

Another kick is delivered from Lauren to Emile. “I don’t believe you! How can I tell that you are not just playing another cruel prank on me again?”

“Ow! S-stop that!” He cries in pain. Emile massages his bruised leg and locks eyes with Laruen. “Then what can I do? What can I do to show that I am being sincere?” the young militiaman asks with resolution in his voice.

She squints her eyes at him, before ultimately groaning in resignation. “If you are serious then I want an apology first! For all those times you played those vicious tricks on me when we were younger! And I want you to stop playing practical jokes on me today! Also! If you really want my attention then get me flowers or something pretty instead! Then maybe… JUST MAYBE… I’ll consider your feelings for me,” she aggressively demands.

Emile vigorously nods in agreement to her condition. “S-sorry for all the trouble I caused you when we were kids…” he meekly apologizes, dropping his head in shame. Seeing this, Lauren rolls her eyes and tries to leave with her large clay pot; now heavy with water. Watching her struggle with it, Emile puts his things to the side and takes the clay pot from Lauren’s hands. “Let me carry this home for you,” he asserts before she can voice any opposition. “To show you how serious I really am,” He proclaims walking briskly towards the direction of her house, leaving the teenage girl behind. 

Surprised with his action she notes, “Maybe you really are being sincere this time.” Lauren bends over and grabs the items that Emile had set down and quickly catches up beside him.

Emile turns his head towards Lauren and gives her a toothy smile, “Starting to believe that I am speaking the truth this time?”

“Okay. Sure. Whatever you say, Emile,” she says dismissing his blatant flirting as they walk through the village towards her home. 

The young militiaman grins at her words as he looks at her visage before moving his gaze ahead of him. Walking side by side as the afternoon closes and the evening begins; Emile inquires, “So, what’s your favorite flower?”

“Lilacs,” she curtly answers.

Emile bids Lauren adieu after escorting her back home. She waves goodbye as she watches him leave with the Evening Sun setting behind him. After he disappears beyond the horizon, the teenage girl quickly drags the clay pot inside and shuts the door behind her. Lauren’s family home is not the most extravagant, but has all the daily necessities of life: a single large room with a fireplace for warmth, tables and chairs for eating, beds to sleep in, and items such as hemp sacks and wooden barrels for storage placed in the corners of the room. Entering, she hears wooden toys clacking and a young boy imitating various sounds as he plays on the floor. 

“Paul, where’s Dad?”

The boy stops, looks up, sees his sister, and states, “Oh? Sis, you’re home. Dad is still working at the grocery store. He said that he’ll be done by evening.”

“Did he mention what we’re going to have for dinner then?”

“Rabbit Stew I think.”

Nodding to his confirmation, she tries to move the heavy clay pot by herself but struggles with it. “Paul, can you help me move this?” she asks with a grunt.

“Sure.” 

After moving the clay pot by the fireplace with her brother’s assistance, Lauren takes a seat at the table to rest her weary body. She cushions her head using her arms, positioning herself so that she is staring out the open window. Being idle, Lauren is left with her thoughts about Emile. Is he serious about liking me? With a particular boy on her mind, the teenage girl thinks about their tenuous relationship. They’ve known each since they were young children, but his treatment of her could be described as, “less than pleasant.” Pulling on her hair, throwing mud at her face, and flipping her skirt in public were some of the ways that Emile would bully Lauren, making her cry. Though, that kind of teasing had died out over the more recent years as their current interactions have become something more amiable compared to how it once was.

“What are you thinking about, Sis?”

“Huh? What?”

“You had that look on your face when you’re thinking about something real hard. So, I was wondering what you were thinking about.”

Broken from her daze, Lauren gives her little brother Paul a gentle smile. “It’s a secret,” she implies; putting a finger to her lips. 

“Oh! That’s not fair! You know I love secrets! Please! Can’t you tell me please?!”

Lauren chuckles, “No way!” and sticks out her tongue playfully.

“Oh! Come on! Please, Lauren, please! Oh please tell me! I’m begging you!” Paul pleads; jumping up and down in frustration as he holds onto his older sister’s clothing.

The sister giggles at her brother’s antics. “Nope! I’m not telling you!”

Paul stomps his feet loudly in protest. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! You can trust me! So, can’t you tell me your secret please?!”

“No~! Not happening,” she states, crossing her arms and turning her head in defiance.

“Ah!! No fair! No fair! No fair!”

With laughter and crying reverberating throughout the house, the front door entrance swings open to reveal a middle-aged man with a beard. He has with him a pair of rabbits hanging from his shoulder as he holds a sack in his other hand. 

“What’s with all the commotion? Did something happen?” asks the man as he enters the house, noticing that one of the children is in a tantrum.

“Dad! You’re home!” the children both shout. 

Paul quickly runs towards his father and wraps his arms around him. The young boy moves his watery eyes upwards and woefully begs, “Dad! Sis is being mean to me! She won’t tell me her secret even when I asked her to!! Can’t you tell her to tell me please?!”

“Is that why you are upset?” The father chuckles at his young son’s words. “Her telling you wouldn’t make it a secret anymore then, would it?” he questions rhetorically.

“Oh, not you too!” Paul exasperates as he lets go of his father. “Now I’ll never find out!”

Watching him pout at his response, the father jovially laughs and tussles his son’s hair. “Now. Now. No need to get grumpy. Look. I brought dinner!” He states, comforting Paul as he raises the rabbits in the air. “Let’s get to cooking! Lauren, boil some vegetables in water as I gut these,” the father instructs his daughter, handing her the ingredients she needs to prepare. 

“Okay,” she answers. Getting up from her seat she grabs the necessary kitchen utensils to start cooking. As Lauren is doing this, her father heads back outside with a bucket of water, a flat stone slab, and the pair of rabbits he had brought for dinner.

Following his father outside, the young Paul bashfully asks, “Can I watch you, Dad?”

“Of course,” he replies with a warm smile.

After getting all the ingredients for the stew prepared, Lauren took complete control over the cooking as she put the finishing touches on the dish before serving it. Pouring out the contents into individual wooden bowls, she hands them out along with utensils to her Father and brother before giving herself one.

“Thank you for cooking, Lauren.”

“Thanks Sis for cooking!”

“You’re welcome and Dad; thank you for the food.”

“Oh right! Thanks Dad! For the stew!”

“Don’t mention it kids,” he says grinning. “Now. Let’s eat!” With the head of the family giving his permission, the rest of the family starts to dig into their food happily. Paul can be seen shoveling mouthfuls after mouthfuls as Lauren daintily and slowly scoops up her food. After eating about a quarter of what he had; the father asks, “So how was your day? Lauren? Paul?” Directing his question between his two children.

“I played with Aiden and Leslie today! We went to the forest to collect bugs and stuff!”

“Oh, really? Did you find anything interesting?”

“Yeah!! I found this huge beetle! It was like this big!!” he exclaims; exaggerating the size with his arms. “But it ran away before I could catch it…”

“That’s a shame. Maybe you’ll catch it the next time you see it, kiddo.”

“Yeah…”

“Luaren. How about you? Anything special happened today?”

Lauren pauses and thinks back to what Emile had said to her earlier in the afternoon. But, I’m not teasing you this time though! I really do like you! Remembering those words made her ears and cheeks hot with embarrassment. “No… n-nothing really special happened…” she meekly responds as she eats another spoonful of stew.

Recognizing her flustered answer, Lauren’s father grins from ear to ear. “Is that so?” He asks. “Then what about that Emile kid? What is that little rascal up to?”

Hearing his name come out from her father’s mouth, Luaren drops her wooden spoon. “E-Emile?” She stutters before calming herself. “W-what about him?”

“Just curious. I know that the boy used to trouble you before,” he expresses. “Has your relationship with him changed at all?” 

“I, uh, I don’t… I…” she stammers, trying to formulate an appropriate response. But before she could finish; she is abruptly cut off by a loud, intensifying ringing echoing outside their home.

“What is that? Is it the curfew bell?” asks Paul innocently.

With the sudden change in topics Lauren quickly adds, “But… isn’t it too early for the curfew bell to be rung though?” With his children's eyes on him, the father hardens his face at bell’s tolling. Noticing this, Lauren starts to panic a little. “Dad… w-what’s going on? What’s happening?”

“That is strange. Usually when the curfew bell is rung at any other time: it means that there is an emergency going on,” he quizzically states. “You kids stay put. I’m going to check on what might be the emergency.”

Placing his utensils down, he leaves his seat for the front door. Opening it, he is greeted by a scene that puts him into shock. A burning village dyed in crimson fire and orange flame.