The first light of dawn unfurled across the sky, casting hues of

pink and gold upon the waking world. As the sun ascended above the
horizon, its radiant beams pierced through the veil of the night,
dispelling shadows, and bringing forth a new day. Beneath the canopy
of ancient trees, the forest stirred with the gentle whispers of
morning, a symphony of life awakening to promise of the dawn.
However, the tranquillity of dawn was soon shattered by a
piercing scream that tore through the air, echoing across the village
like a haunting melody. As if in response to this cry of distress,
tendrils of smoke began to rise, swirling ominously against the
backdrop of the rosy sky. Flames licked hungrily at the edges of the
forest, their fierce dance consuming everything in their path with
relentless fervour. In the midst of this chaos, fear and uncertainty
gripped the hearts of those who bore witness to the sudden inferno.
At the heart of the unfolding chaos stood Poppy, her red hair
tied back in a bun, strands escaping to frame her determined face and
emerald, green eyes. Despite the rising panic around her, her eyes
blazed with a fierce determination, reflecting the flames that
threatened to engulf her world. With sinewy arms honed by years of
wielding hammer and anvil alongside her father, she moved with a
grace born of both strength and agility.
“Poppy, we need to get out of here!” Poppy’s father, a rugged
figure with calloused hands and a weathered face, shouted. His voice
was strained with urgency; his weathered face contorted with worry,
lines deepening as he surveyed the blaze.
“I’m coming, Father!” Poppy replied, her voice steady despite
the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She gripped her father’s
1
hand tightly, the warmth of his rough palm a reassurance amidst the
chaos. Together, they stumbled towards the door, the heat of the
inferno licking at their heels like an angry beast.
Yet as they reached the threshold, a collapsing beam barred
their escape.
“Father, go on without me! I’ll find another way out.” Poppy
cried, her heart wrenching at the thought of never seeing her father
again.
“No, Poppy! I won’t leave you!” her father protested; his voice
hoarse with desperation.
“Please,” the young woman pleaded, tears welling in her eyes
as smoke billowed around them. “You have to go. I can’t afford to
lose you.”
With a defeated sigh, her father relented, pressing a fervent kiss
to her forehead before disappearing through the burning beams.
Poppy watched him go, a lump forming in her throat as she realised
the gravity of the situation. Alone now, she turned back to face the
roaring flames, determined etching itself into her features more with
every second that passed by.
Poppy took a deep breath, steeling herself against the
overwhelming heat and choking smoke. She glanced around,
searching for any possible route of escape amidst the chaos. Through
the haze, she spotted a small window near the ceiling, its edges
glowing ominously from the fire’s intensity.
Without hesitation, Poppy made her way towards it, ducking
under falling debris and navigating through the maze of flames. Each
step felt like an eternity as the inferno raged around her, threatening
to engulf her at any moment. But she refused to succumb to fear,
drawing strength from the memory of her father’s unwavering love
and resolve.
Reaching the window, Poppy assessed her options. It was too
small for her to fit through, but perhaps she could break it open and
call for help. Urgently, she scanned the room for something,
anything, to use as a makeshift tool, her eyes landing on a nearby
chair. With all her might, she lifted it and swung it at the window, the
glass shattering in a cascade of shards.
2
 As fresh air rushed in, Poppy leaned out of the window,
shouting for help with all her might. She prayed that someone would
hear her cries amidst the roar of the flames; she strained to see
through the smoke, her heart pounding in anticipation.
The redhead woman continued to shout for help, her voice
growing hoarse from the effort. Soon, she realised that her cries were
unheard by the screams and wails of the outside world. Everyone
trying to rescue themselves and their own family. Panic threatened to
overwhelm her as she struggled to come up with another plan.
Desperation fuelled her as she scanned the room once more,
her eyes landing on a small hole near the ceiling.
“I knew you forgot to fix that.” Poppy muttered to herself, as
a small smile formed on her lips at the forgetfulness of her father.
It was a tight squeeze, but it seemed like her only chance at
survival. With newfound determination, Poppy dragged the chair
beneath the shaft and climbed onto it, her hands trembling as she
reached up and grasped the edges of the opening.
Ignoring the searing heat and billowing smoke, Poppy hoisted
herself up and squeezed through the narrow hole, her heart pounding
in her ears as she fought against the claustrophobia and fear. Inch by
inch, she pushed forward, pushing aside the pain of the scratches and
bruises that littered her skin.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Poppy emerged on the
other side, coughing, and gasping for air as she collapsed onto the
soft grass of her garden.
With little balance, Poppy staggered to her feet, her eyes wide
with relief and adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She took a
moment to catch her breath. The acrid smell of smoke still lingered
in the air, but the absence of intense heat was a welcome change.
Despite the exhaustion, she knew she had to keep moving.
With perseverance fuelling her every step, she pushed herself
forward, her legs carrying her as fast as they could toward the village
square.
After a few turns in between alleyways, the green-eyed beauty
emerged onto the open village square. Relief washed over her. The
fire hadn’t yet reached this part of the village. People bustled about,
3
some frantically carrying buckets of water while others shouted
instructions, organising makeshift lines to pass along supplies.
Poppy scanned the area, her eyes darting from person to
person, searching for the familiar face of her father.
“Poppy!” a voice called out, and she turned to see her
neighbour, Mrs. Travers, waving her over. “Thank goodness you’re
safe!”
Without a second thought, Poppy rushed to Mrs. Travers, her
heart swelling with gratitude. “Is everyone okay? Have you seen my
dad? He should be here by now.” she asked, her voice trembling with
worry.
Then, as if about to voice Poppy’s worries aloud, Mrs. Traverse
clasped the blacksmith daughter’s hands tightly, her eyes filled with
sorrow. “Poppy, I’m so sorry to tell you this. Your father… he… he
didn’t make it,” she uttered, her voice choked with emotion.
Poppy’s heart sank like a stone in her chest. She felt the world
around her blur as grief threatened to overwhelm her. “No, that can’t
be true,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
All Mrs. Traverse could do was nod solemnly. “I wish it weren’t
true, my dear. Just as he was running out of your home, he noticed
my husband was struggling to get out. I was helpless. So, I asked him
to try and save my husband. They both ended up trapped inside when
the roof collapsed.”
Poppy’s knees felt weak, and she sank to the ground. She
couldn’t believe what she had heard. Her father. Gone. Forever. Her
mind reeled with disbelief and anguish. Her father, the pillar of
strength, vanished in an instant, while trying to help someone else.
She struggled to comprehend the cruel twist of fate that had snatched
him away.
“Poppy, dear, I know this is unimaginably difficult to accept
right now. Losing your father in such a tragic way. But you’re not
alone in this. We’re here for you.” Mrs. Traverse, her own grief still
fresh, reached out to Poppy, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
Suddenly, a frantic voice pierced through the sombre
atmosphere of the village. The air crackled with urgency as someone
came running, their voice echoing across the entire village square.
4
 “Help! Please, anyone! A family’s trapped in the cottage on the
skirts!” the voice cried out, filled with fear and desperation.
The older woman’s gaze snapped towards the direction of the
voice, her eyes widening with concern. In spite of the heaviness of
their hearts, the villagers sprang into action, rallying together in a
collective effort to aid those in need.
“On the outskirts? But that’s the Brightwell’s cottage!” Poppy
exclaimed, no one really hearing her as everyone ran towards the
Brightwell family’s cottage. Her heart sank further. Mrs Brightwell
had only given birth the day before, hopefully she will be strong
enough to escape with her family.
“Poppy, stay here. I’ll see what’s happening,” Mrs Traverse
yelled, before she was sept away with the crowd towards the cottage
on the outskirts of the village.
Left alone with her thoughts, Poppy felt a surge of conflicting
emotions wash over her. While her heart ached for her own loss, she
couldn’t ignore the plight of the family now facing a similar fate. Her
father’s selflessness echoed in her mind, a reminder of the strength
and compassion he embodied.
With trembling hands, Poppy wiped away her tears, steeling
herself with newfound resolve. Even with her grief, she couldn’t sit
idly by while others were in danger. Gathering her courage, she rose
to her feet, determined to offer whatever help she could, honouring
her father’s memory in the only way she knew how – by being there
for others in their time of need.
The urgency of the situation unfolded, and Poppy’s heart raced
with a mix of fear and determination. Ignoring the ache in her chest
and the heaviness of her steps, she dashed towards the outskirts of
the village where the cottage stood. There won’t be another family
broken apart by this scorching inferno.
Fraught with obstacles, the path to the outskirts was difficult
to navigate, yet Poppy pushed forward. Her senses heightened by
adrenaline and the echoes of the desperate cries for help ringing in
her ears. With each step, she felt her resolve strengthen, fuelled by
the memory of her father’s selfless actions and the unwavering
support of the village around her.
5
 As she approached the cottage, the scene before her sent a
shiver down her spine. The building was engulfed in flames, billowing
smoke darkening the sky above. Panic surged through her veins, but
she forced herself to remain composed, channelling the courage she
had inherited from her father.
Reaching the edge of the inferno, she found herself surrounded
by a flurry of activity. Villagers had gathered, some carrying buckets
of water hastily filled from the nearby well, while others formed a
human chain to pass them along. Their faces were etched with
tenacity, their hearts united in the common goal of saving their
neighbours, the Brightwells.
Without hesitation, Poppy joined the effort, grabbing a bucket
and rushing to fill it with water. The heat from the flames licked at
her skin, but she ignored the discomfort, focusing solely on the task
at hand. With each trip back and forth, she felt a renewed sense of
purpose, knowing that every drop of water brought them closer to
extinguishing the fire.
Together, everyone worked tirelessly, their movements
synchronised like a well-oiled machine. The flames hissed and
sputtered as the water doused them, gradually subsiding under the
relentless assault. But just as the villagers began to gain the upper
hand, a loud crash echoed through the air, causing the ground to
tremble beneath their feet.
A section of the cottage had collapsed, sending sparks flying in
all directions. Fear erupted among the villagers, but Poppy refused to
let fear consume her. Instead, she rallied them together, urging them
to press on despite the danger. With renewed willpower, they
redoubled their efforts, pushing forward with unwavering resolve.
“Help! Someone, help! Iwan and Willow are stuck, they can’t
get out of their room!” Elizabeth wailed, her voice breaking.
Poppy’s heart sank as she heard Elizabeth’s desperate screams.
Without a second thought, she dashed towards the collapsing section
of the cottage, her mind racing with worry for the children trapped
inside.

6
 “Elizabeth, hold on!” Poppy called out, her voice cutting
through the chaos. “We’ll make sure your children are safe. We’re
coming for them!”
Disregarding the searing heat that licked her skin, from the
remaining flames, and the billowing smoke that threatening to choke
her, Poppy charged into the crumbling cottage. The beams above
groaned ominously, threatening to collapse at any moment. However,
the brave soul pressed on, driven by her determination to save the
trapped children.
She entered the smoke-filled interior, her eyes stung, and her
throat burned with each breath. She coughed violently, but she
refused to let it hinder her progress. Guided by the sound of
Elizabeth’s desperate cries, she stumbled through the maze of flames
and debris, her heart pounding in her chest.
At last, through the haze, she spotted a faint glimmer of light
coming from a partially collapsed doorway. Without hesitation, she
ran towards it, her senses on high alert as she prepared to face
whatever lay beyond.
With extra caution, she entered the room and her heart sank at
the sight before her. Iwan, a three-year-old boy, was huddled in a
corner, tears streaming down his soot-stained face as he clutched his
newborn sister, Willow, tightly in his arms.
“Iwan, hey. It’s me, Poppy.” Poppy tried to be as calm and
gentle as possible, she could only imagine what was happening inside
the young boy’s mind.
“Poppy, please help us!” Iwan cried out, his voice trembling
and breaking with fear.
Poppy’s heart ached at the sight of the terrified children, but
this was not the time to feel sorry. She pushed aside her own fear and
doubt, focusing solely on the task at hand. With a steady hand, she
reached out to Iwan, her voice calm yet urgent.
“It’s going to be okay, Iwan. We’re going to get you and Willow
out of here safely,” she reassured him, her voice cutting through the
chaos around them.
Carefully, Poppy lifted Willow from Iwan’s arms, cradling the
fragile newborn close to her chest. With Iwan by her side, she led the
7
way out of the crumbling room, guiding the boy through the maze of
flames and debris with unwavering determination.
Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, Poppy
refused to give up. With Iwan and Willow’s lives hanging in the
balance, she knew that failure was not an option. And so, with every
ounce of strength she possessed, she forged ahead, set to lead them
to safety and to their mother no matter what obstacles lay in their
path.
With Iwan clutching her dress, Poppy emerged with the two
children from the burning cottage. She could finally breathe a sigh of
relief as she stepped into the cool night air. However, her relief was
short-lived as she saw the worried faces of the villagers gathered
outside, their eyes filled with concern.
“Poppy, are they okay? Are the children, okay?” one villager
asked, their voice tinged with anxiety.
“I got them out, but what about the parents?” Poppy question,
her voice urgent as she cradled the newborn Willow in her arms.
Rushing over to where Elizabeth and Jonathan Brightwell lay,
Poppy’s heart sank at the sight of their injuries. Elizabeth’s leg was
pierced by a beam that must have fell onto her, while Jonathan lay
unconscious nearby, his face pale and bloodied.
“We need to get them to the healer’s house, now!” Mrs.
Traverse called out to the villagers, her voice ringing with authority.
Working together, the villagers sprang into action, carefully
lifting the Brightwells onto makeshift stretchers. With the older
woman leading the way, they hurried through the night, their
footsteps echoing in the silence as they raced towards the healer’s
house, while large number of villagers stayed behind to continue
fighting the fire.
Once the married couple were inside, Iwan clung tightly to
Poppy’s dress even tighter than before, his small fingers trembling
with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked back at the burning
cottage, his heart heavy with worry for his parents.
“Poppy, are Mama and Papa going to be okay?” Iwan’s voice
quivered, his gaze pleading for reassurance.

8
 The toddler’s innocence shattered the chaos unfolding around
them. Poppy knelt down beside him, careful not to drop Willow, and
pulled him into a comforting embrace as she struggled to find the
right words to ease his fears.
“Everyone is doing everything they can to help them, buddy,”
Poppy whispered softly, her voice tinged with sorrow. “The healer
will take care of them, and we’ll stay by their side until they’re better.”
Iwan nodded, his tears still flowing freely as he clung to
Poppy’s embrace. Despite her own uncertainty, Poppy knew that she
had to remain strong for the two children, offering them the comfort
and support they so desperately needed in that moment of crisis.
✿❀✿❀✿
The three of them waited anxiously in the healer’s house,
Poppy did her best to distract Iwan and soothe Willow, all the while
keeping a vigilant eye of the door for nay news. The flickering
candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an
atmosphere of quiet tension in the room.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the healer emerged
from the room where Elizabeth and Jonathan lay. Poppy’s heart
skipped a beat as she met the healer’s gaze, her breath catching in her
throat as she awaited their verdict.
“They’re stable for now,” the healer announced, her voice calm
yet weary from the long night’s work. “But they’ve sustained serious
injuries. It will take time for them to recover.”
Relief flooded through Poppy as she heard the healer’s words,
her shoulders sagging with the weight of the tension finally lifted. She
glanced down at Iwan, who was watching her with wide eyes, his
small face still stained with dried tears.
“See, Iwan? Mama and Papa are going to be okay,” Poppy
sighed with relief, her voice gentle as she brushed a stray tear from
his cheek.
Iwan nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as
he looked up at Poppy with gratitude shining in his eyes. With Willow
nestled safely in her arms, Poppy felt a swell of love and
determination wash over her.

9
 “We’ll be here for them every step of the way,” the exhausted
young woman promised, her voice filled with unwavering
determination. “And we’ll make sure they know just how much you
and Willow love them.”
Together, they settled in for the long night ahead, finding
comfort in each other’s presence as they waited for the dawn to break
and the healing process to begin. For in the face of adversity, it was
the strength of their bond and the power of hope that would see them
through even the darkest of nights.

10