Handsome and steady and elegant, her partner never once trod on her toes. In his capable hands, her fears of appearing clumsy and foolish melted away, leaving her with an exhilarating sense of freedom, of being one with the music. One with him. But as he twirled her gracefully, a wisp of smoke tickled her nose. Her partner’s hands fell away, replaced by a pair of wizened ones that grabbed her as flames leaped up all around. She was no longer the grown-up Laurel but a small child grown numb with fear. Blinding and suffocating, the smoke billowed. The gnarled hands shoved her through a doorway. From somewhere within the crackling flames she heard baby Willow crying, trapped in her crib, shrieking for someone to come. “Don’t be afraid, little one,” a woman’s voice rasped in her ear. “Close your eyes. You will be safe.” “My sisters—” “Will be safe as well, I swear it. Come quickly!” A blast rocked the floor beneath Laurel s feet. She fell hard to her knees, but was lifted up just as quickly.
