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Word Count: 3457
Note: none of the Fire Arc chapters have been edited at all. Please point out any inconsistencies as I try and timeline this book
Question: what would your reaction be in this situation?
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Dinner was a loud and clamorous affair. The little ones were served first, then some of the teens in order to sit beside them and help. That had always been my least favorite task when I was younger, to have a small child under my charge instead of being able to function freely.

Finally, it was time for Eldest girls to come through. Mam Dorce stood in the doorway, counting off the girls as she always did, wrapped up in her usual house robe. Her brow furrowed the shorter the line grew, until by the end there was a scowl stretched across her draub features. "Where are the others?"

I looked up from the stack of dishes at my side. Six still remained in the stack, accounting for Mam Dorce, Kidget, and myself. The other three though… I swallowed down the truth that was roiling in my stomach. I knew exactly where Melle was. But she said I wasn't to lie on her behalf anymore. I opened my mouth to speak, but another voice cut over me.

"I believe they all went out to the market earlier in the evening today," Reah said, still lingering in the edge of the kitchen, stirring her pottage. "I saw Fia and Triste preparing to go earlier, and Melle probably went with them."

Wilomi popped her head in from the living room, her hair bouncing from the sudden movement. "Oh, yes!" She chirped, stepping into place behind Reah. "We heard that Presa has been helping out in the Freighter's market stall, so they wanted to go over and check on how she was doing. Melle probably joined them as soon as she heard, since the freighter is supposed to be heading out sometime tomorrow."

Some of the tension in my chest eased. Of course. Of course they would want to see Presa. I pulled a bowl off the stack and held it out to Kidget to be filled. "I'm sure they'll all be ok," I said to Mam Dorce as I walked over, holding out the bowl of pottage. "What trouble could they get into at the market?"

There was a rustle from noise from rhe living room, an anxiety of raising voices that drifted into the kitchen, and we all stiffened in response to it. My eyes locked with Reah's, and then she was gone, running into the to living room.

The word she shouted back struck me in the heart.

"Fire!"

There was no thought in my mind, just that moment of panic. I pivoted for the back door and grabbed the first pair of boots I saw, jamming them onto my feet with rushed, fumbling hands.

Kidget caught me by the arm, her eyes panicked. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I have to find them," I whispered back, too frightened, too rushed to let any other thought take over my mind. "I have to find them!"

I pulled my arm away from her hold and was through the door before she or anyone else could move again to stop me.

The world was streaked and marred by the fire, great tongues of it scraping against the dark sky, setting the whole night ablaze. People's screams cut through the air, the sound of pounding feet and frantic shouts adding istself to the panic just as much as the fire itself.

Even though the fire seemed so far away, the effects of it rippled out even to the center of the city, people rushing to get off the street, to get away from the press of bodies fleeing the scene of the fire.

Heart in my throat, I cowered in a hollow created by a doorway, hands over my ears as I tried to gather a plan for myself. I couldn't just run into this blindly, thst would only serve to get myself hurt. But the intensity lf desperation threatened to choke me, and I knew I couldn't hide there for much longer before it became too much to bear.

A voice leapt out over the crowd, and my head snapped up, searching, searching for the speaker, the familiarity of a voice I had known for years.

"Triste!" I caught her by the hand, dragging her away from the throng of people and into my hollow of space. Another girl came along with her, strung together by tight-held hands. Fia.

The three of this crowded in this doorway, Fia and Triste panting as they held each other close. "The m-market," Triste panted, her eyes scrunched up tight. "The freighter caught flame somehow, and it spread for the market."

"We split soon as we heard," Fia said, her voice barely more than a whisper over the sounds of chaos beyond us. "Didn't see a lick of the flames but we can all see them now."

I grabbed their hands tight, mind racing. "And Melle? Is she with you? Have you seen her?"

They looked at each other, and there was that bloom of fear agian in their eyes. "Melle was at the market?"

I pulled the two of them close to me, choking down the fear that rose up in my stomach. "Run straight back to the house. I'll find Melle."

I didn't give them time to dissuade me.

Nothing in this made sense. Despite the dryness that ruled over the moon, fires were a rarity, with so many precautions put in place to safeguard against it.

She said the fire had started on the freighter, that it had spread its hateful tongues over to the market, from where all of the people stampeded away. But how? How had the fire been caused? And the market was simply so far away from the ship, that the fiercest winds wouldn't have been able to carry the flames across the dust dry ground.

But Melle was there, and Presa too, and I had to make sure they were ok. I couldn't just leave them, not with this pressure of not knowing digging into my chest, settling deep in my stomach. Fear wrapped its ice-cold fingers around my lungs, squeezing them tight as I scrunched my eyes and pushed away from the door, into the throng of running people and fought my way against the flow.

The light grew brighter the closer I got, and thr tumult of sounds grew in tandem with it, the snapping crackle of flames, the rough sounds of coughing and throat scraping screams. My feet stumbled, my body caught up in the waves of people fleeing the scene, but I pressed on against it, eyes stinging from the acrid billowing of smoke that had begun snaking through the air, even this far away from the source.

I cut into a back street, past where I knew th edges if the market ran, in an effort to complete pass it by. Finally, finally I made it through to the scene, staring out at everything that unfolded in this chaotic drama set on a burning stage. 

Smoke ran ragged through my lungs and I coughed, gripping at my skirt as i leaned against the rough stone of a building beside me. There were still bodies teeming about the fire, moving like little ants in undulating waves as water was carried, buckets and buckets of liquid and long hoses snaking out from the city reservoir.

This would cost us. More than just the inevitable loss of lives, or the goods and homes burnt to a crisp in those ravenous flames, but in the water spent. North Port was completely dependent on outside sources, on everything from our food to our water. If we didn't receive ice shipments from South Port, all of our drinking water would be used up in a matter of days. Our food came directly from the freighters, or sometimes the small greenhouses where they coaxed out food in the traveling cities, who followed the sun in a continual chase throughout the light season.

But this fire would claim much of our water, plunging us into a rationing system, stretching out what little was left while the city administrators attempted to barter out a trade wirh South Port for an extra or earlier shipment.

The last time a fire had broken out years ago, the city administrators had appeared in the Hents House only days later, with a short, extravagantly dressed man. Two of our girls had left with him that day, but Mam Dorce had never been compensated for it. Two days after that, water was restored back the city.

I had never heard anyone speak of that incident again, and any of the attempts I had made in the past to bring it up with met with sharp glares and quick changes of the conversation. Staring at the fire now, the memory of it was stark in my mind, a moment I had seemingly forgotten until this instant, with the flames and smoke about me.

I could go help them, go offer myself up to carry buckets, or direct people away from the market into safer ranges. Anything, if it meant I could hear about Presa or Melle, to know if they were safe.

Eyes stinging I pushed myself away from the support of the building and ran towards the moving groups of people in their efforts to fight the fire, the sudden shift in heat reaching me even from this far away.

I drew closer, and the heat grew oppressive, sweat beading along my forehead, trickling down my back, and I could barely see through all of the smoke now.

A body caught me, snatching me from my path and whipping my body around. The man's breath stank of alcohol, but the sharpness in his eyes seemed to contradict that. "This ain't no place for a woman," he spat, his fingers digging into my arms. "You better get that pretty little hide of yours to safer ground."

I steeled my gaze, glaring back at him. "I've come to help. I don't care how."

His lips curled up into a sneer. "You can help by getting out of here."

"Fincher! What's the holdup here? I thought I told you to go get more men!" A voice cut through to the two of us, and I stiffened.

I knew that voice. He emerged from the smoke, soot and black marring over his clothing and skin, a bandana wrapped around his lower face. When he saw me, he froze, his eyebrows dropping into something of disbelief.

"No. No, not all in osken way!" He grabbed my arm and yanked my away from the other man, spinning me so that Dawson was placed between us. He yanked his bandana down, as if that could help him in scolding me. "What in the fresh heavens are you doing here, Enori?"

I folded my arm, trying to ignore the burn in my lungs. "I'm here to help, same as you, I'm guessing. And I can work, too."

He let out a small growl and ran his fingers through already disheveled hair. "Enori, this is no place for—"

"For what, a woman?" I shot back, eyes hardening. "Don't give me that runoff. You know me now, Dawson. Don't talk like that."

He sighed and took me by the shoulders, his hands trembling as they gripped me, leaning down to look into my eyes. "This is no place for anyone," he said slowly. "Enori, this is fire, and danger, and death. No one should be here."

I stared back at him, feeling the slight resolve I had built up begin to crumble at the fullness of fear in his voice. "But you're here. And so am I."

"I know. I know you're here and that's the problem!"

He stepped back, shaking his hands at me. "Enori, I don't want you to get hurt." Dawson closed his eyes and grimaced a moment, then reopened his eyes. "And you're right." His voice was anguished now, fading into defeat. "I do know you. I know that the moment I take my eyes off you, you'll be heading down there anyways." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, before tugging off the bandana that was now resting around his neck. "Put that on," he said, tossing it to me. "You'll need it to block the smoke."

I gripped the fabric in my hands, almost uncertain what to do now. I had expected him to turn me away completely, to forbid me from even coming near, to control my life and choices as so many others had sought to do. But he hadn't, and now that I had my way, that I had made it through, that I had obtained this position of being able to help, the thought scared me a little. Was I really making the right choice here?

But Dawson wasn't showing fear, so I shouldn't either. I held the bandana up to my face and tied it tight, blinking back against the stink of smoke rising from it. "Where do you need me?" I looked up for Dawson again, only to find he was in a hushed conversation with that man with the sparking eyes, his hands moving in wide gestures, before the man turned and jogged off.

Dawson rubbed at his forehead, turning back to look at me. "Get over by the water hose, and work your way back to where ever the bucket line starts. If you can fill them up, that'll free some men up to help on the front lines." He held up a hand, eyes spark and full of emotion. "And there is no way I'm letting you near the fire, so don't even think about it. You wanted to help, so this is how you do it."

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it up over the bridge of his nose, head ducked as he ran back towards the fire and the men nearby working on effort to put it out.

I scanned the scene, trying desperately to find the long hose I had seen before, and where the bucket line trailed off to. They had managed to corral the fire away from the market, and my boots splashed in the puddles left over from the dowsing of water, my head ducked low just was Dawson had kept his.

The sound of shouting met me long before I reached the line, as I tried to catch where the front of it was supposed to be, a man waved me over, the bucket in his hold swinging as he passed it down. "Girl!"

I stepped closer, and his words had caught others attention to me, the speed of their line stalling. "Yes?"

"Coming or going, child?"

"Coming. I'm here to help."

"Good." He jerked his head to the side, at the man next to him. "Get in line and start passing. Gal like you don't need to be runnin around in a time like this?"

I rushed to take his place, the bucket passed into my hands heavier than I expected, and I nearly dropped it before swinging it into the hold of the person beside me.

The chaos and blister of the fire crowded around me, and I kept my eyes fixed only on the movements of the buckets, on the splash of water at my feet.

Time seemed to bend into something without meaning, there were no seconds, no minutes, no hours, just the ache in my arms and the weight of buckets, the shout of men and the streak of fire against the night sky.

When the silence finally came, it cane slowly. On padded feet, silence stalked away from the ship, from the source of the fire and stealing every scrap of sound as it passed by, brushing the cool feeling of air across our skin as slowly, silently, the fire dwindled into nothing but glowing embers.

I stood there, a bucket still wrapped in my hands, panting as I stared. The hull of the ship was charred black, but ut was now seeing the smoke still drifting out of the inside of the freighter stat frightened me. If Melle and Presa had been on that ship, would they have been stuck inside? Would the fire have ravaged through the interior just as it had set out towards the market before?

The bucket fell from my hands, water splashing out as I ran, feet slipping across now muddy ground and my lungs, already raw from the smoke, now strained for air. I yanked the bandana down from about my face, tears stinging at my eyes. I had done what little I could in putting out the fire, but now I had to do what I had meant to do here from the beginning.

"Presa! Melle!" My voice came out scratchy and raw, and there was still heat as I drew ever closer. "Melle!" She had to be ok. She had to be safe. If this was something that could have been avoided by simply trying to stop her on this night, if Melle could have been saved by all this only by me refusing to let her go—

Was I to blame if she got hurt? Was her life in my hands through my pure negligence?

"Enori?"

My head jerked to the side, searching, desperate, my eyes scouring over every unfamiliar face until—

"Melle!" The word came out like a sob, and I fell into her embrace, the two of us dropping onto the ground together as we clutched each other tight. My hands brushed over her face, searching into her brown eyes, smearing smokestained marks across her skin. "Melle, youre ok?"

She nodded fervently, tears starting to flood in the corners of her eyes. She didn't appear to be injured in this moment, but there was such a haunted expression on her face that I simply pulled her tight once more.

The both of us stank of smoke and the lingering smell of fire, but we were here. We were safe.

"Where's Presa?"

Melle stiffened, pulling back to stare at me, with wide, unblinking eyes. Her mouth opened, a wordless silence falling instead from her lips. Her brows tightened, and then she fell back into my hold.

Presa.

I saw a figure drawing near, and I looked up, into the tired face of Dawson as he stepped toward us, his face covered in smoke and soot.

He offered out his hand, his gaze shadowed as he pulled Melle and I to our feet. "You two should go home," he murmured. His green eyes flicked to mine, weary and worn through the past chaos. "Thank you for your help."

I looped my arm through Melle's, trying to support her as she rested her head on my shoulder. "You could come with us, you know." My free hand reached out to settle on his cheek, and he leaned into my touch. "We have food, and beds too. You and your men could come tonight."

It wasn't an offer i should have been making, but looking at the destruction wreaked here, at the smoking shell of their ship, I couldn't walk away without trying to offer even some semblance of help.

His face seemed to shift, if even for a moment, into that of peace as he lingered against my hand. Then he jerked away, lowering his eyes. He caught my hand before I could pull it back, his hand rough and calloused in my own. "I can't. Not yet. I have to keep everyone safe first." He brought my hand up to his lips. "But I would love to." He said the words like a promise, the words pressed like a kiss into my skin. I could see the burn of red across his ears as he slowly lowered my hand.

There was no doubt my expression matched his own as I looked away. "And Presa? Is she ok?"

"She might be. Last I heard she was out in the market long before the fire ever broke out. She might have even gone back to that house of yours, if she considered it a safe place."

"Ok." The word was a puff of smoke in the air. "Please stay safe."

"I will." His voice dropped lower, and my gaze flitted to Dawson once more. "Please, please keep yourself safe."

I nodded, a sudden lump in my throat. "This would have been goodbye," I whispered, remembering that they were meant to leaving the port in the following afternoon.

His lips twisted into a regretful curve. "So it would have been." He gazed out on the scene around us, the people moving and thrum of anxious activity. "And it might still be."

Without another word, Dawson turned and walked away.