The flames crept along the litter strewn floor, pausing to investigate the waste lying upon the floor before continuing their insidious advance through the room. Golden tendrils wrapped around stray pieces of wood, feeling the rough surface as they sought out a way to get to the rich flesh within. Heat emanated from them, driving the chill of winter from the empty warehouse.
        He watched, frozen, as the flames consumed the fallen logs with an eager voracity. A low pitched whine could be heard above the crackling of splitting wood, rising as the golden monster’s appetite was temporarily appeased. He could feel the heat against his skin, wrapping around him like an extra layer. His blood swelled in his veins, absorbing the warmth as it seeped down to his bones. He felt an unknown contentment and a strange stirring within him, drawing him to the flames.
        Smoke started billowing around the vast room, white against the dark, shadowy ceiling. As it swirled around him he breathed it in, letting it fill his lungs completely. He could taste the burnt embers from the logs, a smoky taste reminiscent of winter evenings spent in front of a roaring fire. Something stirred within him, moving beneath his skin as it searched for a way out.
        The flames moved closer to him, their long fingers reaching out to him, tasting the ground around where he stood. Soon they would be tasting him, consuming his flesh in an attempt to appease the ravaging hunger at its core. Something moved at the heart of the fire, a creature of some sort looking around for sustenance.
        Eyes, red and malevolent, locked with his own and he could hear a scream of rage echoing around the room. He was certain it had not come from his own lips yet could not see how the fire could have emitted such a noise. He wanted to step backwards but his feet would not move from where he stood. As the eyes advanced, he felt the stirring within him again. It was though something wanted to break free and answer the challenge of those stirring eyes.
        The flames were almost upon him, the eyes fixed upon him as a growling filled his ears. He could feel the hairs on his arms singeing in the intense heat emanating from the heart of the fire. Pressure was building within him, stretching his limbs. He felt as though his bones were snapping beneath the strain as he stood there unable to move.
As the eyes drew closer he gained an impression of a shape around the eyes – a broad head, muzzle with wide nostrils above a mouth filled with sharp teeth. A forked tongue reached out between the teeth, tasting the air around him. The creature inhaled, sucking in some of the flames ready to exhale them at force.
        Recognising that move from some dim and distant memory forced him to move out of the way of the fiery blast. He felt the searing heat pass over him, burning his flesh, raising blisters along its surface. Pain arced along his nerve endings, consolidating in his mind with an intense build-up of pressure that threatened to split his head apart. He staggered backwards, his taut skin making movement jerky and uneven.
        A stray log caught at his foot causing him to stumble backwards just as the monster released another angry burst of fire. He screamed as he felt the flames burn his flesh, melting his clothes against his skin. The pain was intense, filling his mind with vivid, angry colours. He could feel himself trying to block the pain, wanting to do something to retaliate but unable to break through the barriers in his mind.
        A triumphant howl could be heard echoing around the room as flames exploded throughout, reaching up to the ceiling and out into the night. His last thoughts were of a great creature flying out into the night sky.

        His eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, as his body tautened under the waves of searing pain that washed over him. A sheen of perspiration coated his skin, glistening in the glow of the candlelight. A harsh groan slipped through parched lips as hands gripped the coverlet, knuckles glowing white through the bronzed skin.
        Leah looked up from the shirt she was mending and watched his restless movements on the bed. The stranger had awakened several times like this during the past four days before slipping back into the healing arms of sleep. Each time he had stirred, Leah had been amazed at his strength of spirit and will to survive. When he had been found lying by the side of the road, his injuries had been so severe he had not been expected to last the day never mind as long as he had.
        Discarding the shirt, she crossed the bare wooden floorboards and laid a gentle hand against his bruised, battered features. His flesh, once consumed by the heat of white hot embers, was now cool beneath her fingertips. His fever had broken but he had a long way to go before his recovery was ensured. Small steps had been taken on the long road ahead.
        “Leah? I brought you something to eat.” The wooden door swung open revealing an older lady with white blond hair carrying a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry with you missing the evening meal.”
        “Thank you, Seren. His fever was so hot I could not leave him.” She took the tray and placed it on the table, her stomach rumbling at the aroma of beef stew and fresh bread. “Are the boys alright? I’m truly sorry for not spending more time with them.”
        “The boys are fine. They understood you were needed here. Kai said that you needed to say your magic words to heal the man.” Seren sank down onto the wooden chair opposite Leah and poured them both a glass of fruit wine.
        “My magic words?” A quizzical look crossed Leah’s face as she looked at Seren.
        “Your healing chants. Kai remembers them from when he was poorly. He tells everyone they are what heals you.”
        “If only it was that simple,” she replied, looking across towards the sleeping stranger. It had taken more than softly whispered words to tend the numerous wounds across his body. Whoever had attacked him had not intended for him to survive long after the assault.
        “Will he live?”
        “He has a better chance today than yesterday. His fever has broken and the infection looks to be receding but he is very weak. We have a long way to go before I can say for certain whether or not he will live.”
        “That maybe so, but with you his chances are much improved. I know you will do all you can for him.” Seren reached out and placed her hand over Leah’s before rising from the table and leaving Leah alone with the stranger.
        Having finished her meal, Leah returned to the stranger’s side and checked his temperature once more. His skin still felt cool to her touch, his breathing deep and steady. He appeared to be in a deep sleep rather than the shallow, restless sleep of previous days. She could only hope it was a healing sleep and not anything more serious.

        The flames burned at his flesh, searing his skin as they licked across his body. He wanted to move away but he was too weak to evade their touch. Restless, he moved within the confines of the hell pit, groaning at the agony the minor movements created. There was no escape from the torture his body was enduring.
        A voice drifted through the red haze surrounding him. Soft and gentle, it floated over him, soothing the flames surrounding him. The searing heat retreated as coolness encompassed him. She spoke to him, the words indefinable yet their meaning was clear to his battered soul. He could feel their healing magic wrapping around him, protecting him from the flames, urging him to rise from the darkness towards the light and the life that stood awaiting him.
        Gritting his teeth he reached out towards the source of the voice. His fingers reached out to her shadowy form as he tried to break free from the confines of the hell pit which held him. Almost touching, his strength finally gave way and he sank back into the hell pit. A harsh groan left his lips as her image faded into the darkness surrounding him. Though frustrated by his lack of progress, he was not down. As long as he could hear her voice he had something to live for and he was determined this was one fight he would not lose.

        Leah placed the final shirt into the basket, neatly folded ready to be put straight into her son's wardrobe. Her body ached from sitting in the padded chair for so many long hours. With a dancer's grace, she rose and raised her long slender arms up to the ceiling, stretching the tightness out of her aching muscles, relieving the stiffness that gripped her body.
        The fire had long since burned down to smouldering embers and as she moved around the small chamber, she could feel the chill that had seeped into the room as the heat had retreated. There were a few logs left in the wicker basket and she added them to the fire after stirring the embers with the iron poker.
        She watched as wispy golden flames twined themselves around the logs, feeding off the rough bark to make themselves larger. Fire had always held a strange fascination for her and she loved to watch golden flames consume the wood in the hearth. However, she didn't have time to watch the fire grow or feel the heat of the flames warming the room. She had much work to catch up on.
        A quick glance across the room confirmed that the stranger still slept. His muscular chest rose and fell with regular deep breaths rather than the shallow panting ones from when the fever had gripped him. She had time to deliver the clothes to her children and have a quick freshen up before returning to watch over him. She could leave the chamber door open so she could hear him if he needed her.
        Her soft leather slippers made little noise on the polished wooden floor of the main room of her cottage. The fire burned low in the hearth whilst a small lamp on a central table provided enough light for her to navigate her way to the wooden staircase leading up to the upper level.
        Four doors opened off the small moonlit landing, their rough surfaces covered with children's decorations. She opened one of the doors and slipped into her eldest son's chamber. A small, wooden bed sat in one corner by the window whilst a large wooden closet sat on the other side. A battered sofa sat facing the low burning fire, its worn leather covering littered with wooden toys and clothes that had been removed and discarded instantly.
        Leah smiled to her self as she placed her basket on a vacant part of the sofa. Kai's room always looked as though a strong wind had raced through it, tossing everything everywhere before fading away. Kai may not be the tidiest of children but he was one of the happiest and never failed to put a smile on her face when she saw him.
        It did not take long for her to return the mended clothing and place the discarded items in the large basket in the corner by the door. Before slipping back out on to the landing she glanced at her son. Her heart softened when she saw his tousled golden locks peeping above the blankets and fur pelts covering his bed. She loved her eldest son, dearly, and her heart ached with the knowledge his father would never see him grow into the fine man he was already showing hints of.
        Tears pricked at the corners of her cornflower blue eyes making the room go watery before her. Determined not to give in to her distress and disturb her sleeping son she slipped back out onto the landing and closed the door behind her. A few shaky breaths restored her self control and eased the feeling of loss enough for her to open the next door where her youngest son slept.
        Seven year old Orin was the opposite of his nine year old brother. Quiet and serious, his room was laid out the same as Kai's but that was were the similarities ended. Orin's room was neat and tidy, his discarded clothes placed in the basket whilst his wooden toys were in the box his father had made. Even fast asleep in his bed, he looked tidy with the covers resting in an orderly pile over his slight form.

        She paused by his bedside, a lump forming in her tight throat as she stood over his sleeping form. Aiden would have loved to see his sons growing up, learning about the world around them, choosing the path they would take into adulthood. Even though it was only eighteen months since his death, the pain of losing him was as strong today as it had been back then. She wondered if there would ever be a day where her heart did not ache for the loss she had suffered.
        Eyes watering once more, she turned, gathered up the discarded clothes and left his chamber before her fragile control broke completely and disturbed her sleeping son. Her slippered feet hurried down the wooden stairs, her hand trailing along the carved banister that Aiden had laboured over for hours. Each step returned her control over her emotions and suppressed the ache in her heart for the moment.
        Just off the large living area was a small room where the water pump and large cauldron for heating the water were housed. Leah placed the basket of clothes at the side of a wooden tub before checking the cauldron was full of water and lighting the fire beneath it. Come morning, the water would be warm enough to wash the clothes and bathe the children, not that they would want such a thing. A smile teased her full lips as she envisaged the protests that would fall from their lips when told of their imminent baths. There would be much protesting but they would have their baths when they awoke.
        Returning to the living area, she entered the the kitchen and prepared a light meal from the remains of the loaf of bread and the chicken that had been cooked that day. Looking after the stranger meant she did not have much time to eat regular meals, grabbing a snack whenever she had a spare minute. Now that he appeared to be on the road to recovery she could perhaps regain her previous routine.
        When she re-entered the downstairs sleeping chamber that housed the stranger she saw that he still slept, having barely moved since she left him. His stillness gave her a chance to study his features, noting that the swelling around his eyes and along his jawbone had started to recede. The purple bruising that had marred the bronze tones of his skin was now starting to change to a rainbow of colours from the deep purple of the initial bruising to lighter yellow tones. 
        Whoever his captors had been, they had given him a severe beating, not just to his face but also his body. His ribs had been cracked, if not broken, and there had been evidence that some weapon had been used against him. The ragged edges of the wounds on his back were starting to pull together and no longer oozed pus through the light bandaging she had wrapped around him.