Prologue:
The real nightmare began when the burning smell of smoke became so strong, it woke Ariana out of her dream. She had been experiencing her usual nightmare; running through the woods in the absolute dead of night, feeling the pursuit behind her. Seeing the rough, dark shape of the tiny log cabin in the clearing ahead. Dashing inside and slamming the door before she would be able to see what chased her. Backing up until she was crouched under a single rickity table, hot tears pouring down her face. She never saw the werewolf in her nightmare, but she always knew that that was what wanted to kill her. She could hear the beast as it clawed at the door and let loose bloodcurdling howls. It was much more than enough to drive any seven-year-old to a state of absolute terror.
Of course, Ariana would think years later, reality could be every bit as terrifying as any nightmare.
At first, Ariana wondered if the cabin in her dream was going to burn with her in it, adding another morbid layer to her usual nightly scare. Then she experienced that fast, whooshing sensation as she was abruptly woken up to the smell of scorching smoke and a faint orange glow coming from under her door. She wasn't going to burn to death in the werewolf cabin. It was happening in her bright purple bedroom in her father's house. A scream escaped from her throat. "Daddy!"
His reply came immediately. "Ariana!" Then she could tell he wasn't screaming at her. "No! Let her go! Save her! She's a little girl!" Ariana fell out of bed and and ran to her door. Who was he talking to? She and her father lived alone. She threw the door open, only to be blasted in the face with a rush of hot smoke seeking cleaner air. Her back hit the edge of a cabinet hard as she stumbled backward, causing her to cry out as she hit the floor. After a few seconds of pain, though, she realized she could breath better on the floor. Some advice from visiting firefighters at her school started to kick in. She crawled toward the door again and could now see that the fire was big in the kitchen and breakfast nook with the living space off to the left, but was not in the little hallway that lead to the bedrooms yet. If she ran around the edge of the living room, she could get out through the backdoor. After getting unsteadily to her feet, and keeping her head down, took off down the hall and was halfway to the door when she saw them across the burning room.
Her father. And other people. They were three men; two middle aged and one younger-looking, but all of them lean, tall and strong. Ariana couldn't make out any clear features through the haze, but she could see that two of them had their hands clamped down on her father's arms. The third was staring back at her. She couldn't help her high pitched yelp.
Then her father saw her. "ARIANA!"
"Daddy!" she screamed again. Her throat was burning with smoke, along with her eyes. She huddled against the wall, away from the approaching flames. "What's happening? I'm scared!"
The younger man who didn't have a hold on her father walked a few steps toward Ariana. "NO!" Her father shouted. "NO! Let her go! You can't do this! She's an innocent CHILD!" But the man only stopped when the heat and smoke drove him to hacking coughs. "Ariana! Get out while you can! I love you so much!" His voice was hoarse now and he sputtered out a fit of coughs. They were dragging him backward, toward the front door, which was still relatively clear.
"What about the girl?" Asked the younger man in a voice loud enough to hear over the chaos. He jabbed his thumb back to Ariana.
"She has to go out the other door; either the others will get her, or she'll burn," one of the others replied. And it was true. Ariana looked out the glass window on the back door and could see a few figures waiting in the night, illuminated by her home turning to ash. She swallowed hard, knowing that they were watching the doors, waiting for her or her father to escape only to be grabbed by the murderers themsleves. They surely knew that she was going to be coming any moment now, especially now that the men with her father were outside as well by now. But she couldn't stay either; already the flames were dangerously closer. Not the back door. Can't stay. Through a window? That's what the firemen said at school. She could still get back to her room, and there was a window there, and no doors on that side of the house, so maybe no one was watching there. How many people were out there? Did they surround the house? Ariana didn't have another choice; she had to get to an exit.
The run back to her room was closer to flames now, and a few times she jumped as far as she could to avoid some. But she managed to get back to her room and climb onto her bed to the window. Her fingers hastily drew back the now smoke-stained curtains and tried to undo the lock, but it was too sticky. Her hands were all sweaty now, the whole thing was just so nightmarish. She dragged her heavy,old-fashioned jewelry box over and with every ounce of adrenaline- spiked energy in her body, slammed the thing into the window. The shattering sound was largely obscured by the sound of the house falling to pieces behind her and the glass shattered outward, along with the jewelry box. Ariana hastily swung her legs over the sill and slid over the edge. Her feet got cut by some broken glass, but she kept going through the side yard as fast as she could to hide in the tree line.
Their house was built in a clearing of forest off the main road of their town, with a long gravel driveway that let out onto a side street. Ariana wasn't sure she could make it to town on foot, so she made her way to one of her favorite hiding spots for hide and seek. The hollowed out hunk of roots under one of the huge trees offered concealment from most sides of the woods, but it was still close to the house. Ariana could still see the glow of the fire on the trees and here people shouting at each other.
It was clear that no one had seen her get out; she could hear someone inquiring about whether she had chosen to hide inside. Someone else shouted at them to keep watching the doors in case she came running out.
Finally, Ariana peeked her head above a little to see what was happening. The house now resembled a giant burning heap of firewood, completely collapsed. There appeared to be about seven or eight people loosely gathered in a circle off to the side of the fire. One of them was her father, still held prisoner. He was sagged over, shoulders heaving. The others seemed to be talking to him, shaking him. The ones holding him dumped him onto the ground. Then there was a minute or so of talk. Her father was shouting again, accusing them of murdering his little daughter, his little girl. The young one actually laughed and was shoved by the guy next to him to stop. There was another brief talk by a couple of the people to her father. Then one of them pulled something out of their coat. It was a pair of handcuffs, shiny in the light of the fire and the moon. The man holding them knelt down next to her father, who was still. He started to fasten one of the cuffs to his wrist. The next movement happened fast that Ariana almost missed it.
The handcuff man was thrown to the side as her father shoved away from him. On his feet. The group looked startled for a second, and that's all that Ariana's father needed. He broke through the circle and took off full speed for the woods opposite of her hiding spot, the others right behind him, screaming for his blood.
After they disappeared into the trees, Ariana finally let out the breath she had been holding, then started sucking in as much air as she could as her breathing turned hysterical. Her head was pounding, her feet were wet with blood from her cuts, and her lungs burned from smoke. As she tried to get on her feet, her vision blurred, then tilted as she fell back to the earth, unconscious.
