Immune to the glorious display, Lacey struggled to subdue the trembling that had begun inside her with the advent of twilight shadows.Feeling an overwhelming sense of dread, she looked at the charred remains of her childhood and gathered her strength as she determinedly kneeled to set up her bedroll. She glanced back at the mound marked with a simple wooden cross. The lonesome sight revealed none of the goodness of the old man who had lived and worked nearby. It reflected nothing of the generous nature and loving qualities that compounded the tragedy of his death, and Lacey was suddenly alone—more alone than she wished to be.Her skin was burning hot, and choking smoke filled her lungs.She was afraid, but Grandpa held her hand tightly as he dragged her from the flames.Disoriented, she looked up at Grandpa. Her head hurt. She wasn’t sure what had happened, why the cabin was burning, why Grandpa was looking at her so strangely.She gasped as Grandpa fell to the ground clutching his chest, and she saw the bloody wound there.Grandpa!She was trembling so hard that she could hardly talk when Grandpa clutched her hand and started to speak.
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