Ford heard screams of terror, rage, and pain as he tried desperately to apply pressure to the wound of the patient on his table. He could see the lights dimming in the man’s eyes by the second. Ford felt as though he was moving through water, unable to use his full strength to apply pressure to the wound or reach quickly enough for any of his medical equipment. A healer nearby was shouting at him to apply the tourniquet if he couldn’t put enough pressure on the man’s leg, but Ford couldn’t find one. Instead, he stumbled around the table and nearly knocked over all his equipment. Ford felt weak, clumsy, and confused.

The healer’s shouting was indiscernible now as he strode quickly toward Ford’s table and the dying patient lying limp upon it. Bright yellow light emanated from the healer’s palms as he muttered under his breath in another language. Ford felt his shame and confusion grow as the healer did what he could not. The patient’s wound began closing, though his blood remained on the table. The lights slowly came back into his eyes, but his breath remained shallow and labored. In mere moments, the patient stabilized and thanked the healer repeatedly once he had recovered his breath. But for Ford, his eyes held only contempt.

Ford saw that the healer’s eyes also held contempt. The eyes of everyone in the tent were on him now. All eyes were filled with contempt. With shame. With anger. The screaming from before had gone silent now. The rush of patients being brought in wounded and sent out stabilized had stilled. One voice rang out, and then many, and then all.

“Why didn’t you save him?"

Ford Caldwell stirred from his sleep to find that the previous events were just a nightmare. He wasn’t back in the tents, and he hadn’t failed to care for the wounded, prompting a healer to do his job for him. But the words still haunted him. “Why didn’t you save him?"

He had seen many men and women die under his care in the tents. The healers weren’t always quick enough to help the medics when they were overwhelmed. The kingdom of Andalus had worked hard for the last couple centuries on the advancement of science and medicine, but magic was still superior in a battlefield medical tent. Unfortunately, magical healers were few and far between. Mages in general were sparse in Andalus compared to other kingdoms, and the city of Harbondale was no different than the rest of the kingdom.

But the phrase “Why didn’t you save him?” was one that Ford knew would haunt him for the foreseeable future, as it preyed on his greatest fear.

Ford slowed his breaths, making them more deliberate than automatic. He noticed he was sweating and that the sun had not yet come up. It was dark in the room, and he couldn’t see the clock to tell the time. Ford attempted to roll out of bed, only to be reminded that his muscles were sore, and his joints were still stiff. Instead, he turned his head to look out the window. Outside, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, save for what looked to be a man walking in the middle of the street. As he passed the street-lamps, Ford could faintly make out a pale-yellow overcoat draped on the man’s shoulders. He rubbed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the man was gone.

Ford shuffled himself back into a laying position and pulled the covers back over his body. He was too rattled and too pained to be worrying about strange men walking the streets at night. It was late, and he needed to rest. He wanted to be able to enjoy the following day with his family. Shaking off the nightmare that Ford had stirred from, he drifted off back to sleep.

The following morning was much the same as the last. Ford awoke to find his body still aching. Lara again surprised her husband with a full plate of breakfast. Collin nearly fell off the last steps when he came down a few minutes after eight, and Claire followed right behind him, giggling at his morning clumsiness. The family ate, drank tea together, and made new plans for the day.

The night before had done less than Ford thought it should to refresh the air. No moisture had collected in the air during the night, there was no dew on the grass, the flagstone streets did not glisten with condensation, and there had been no cool breeze while the city slept.

Frustrated but undeterred, the family set out to make the most of their last weekend morning together. They settled on visiting a park near the town square so that they could stop by the market for lunch.

Upon arriving at the market, the Caldwells were quite surprised. During the night, a group of traveling performers had arrived in Harbondale and were setting up a show for that evening. And amidst the crew putting up flyers and calling people over for demonstrations, Ford spotted a man wearing a pale-yellow overcoat. “Aha!”, he thought. “Must be the guy I saw last night. I knew it was nothing to worry about."

Ford and his family found an abundance of fruits, tarts, pies, and other foods at the stands in the market during lunchtime. Once they’d had their fill and the lunch rushes died down, Claire begged her father to take them to the show that night.

“Please, daddy, please!”, she repeated. “Can we go and see the show tonight? I want to see the acrobats and dancers!”, she said. Collin, mouth full of tart, could only nod along enthusiastically. “It could be fun”, Ford heard his wife’s voice add to the many requests from his daughter.

“Yeah, it could. And it’d get me off my feet for a bit.”, Ford replied. “Sure. We can go."

The children cheered with excitement, and Ford smiled. “One thing. Do you still want to go to the park, or would you rather walk around the city?”, Ford asked. “We’ll only be able to do one before the show this evening."

Claire’s smile faded into a look of intense contemplation. For nearly a minute, she hummed to herself while mentally debating which activity she would choose. Finally, she gave an answer.

“I want to go see the city!”, she said. “And maybe next weekend we can do a park trip?”, she added with the sweetest voice and most innocent look she could muster. Lara chuckled at her daughter’s attempt to sway her father, but she knew it had worked. “Of course, sweetheart.”, Ford responded.

The Caldwell family explored every corner of the city while touring Claire’s favorite places. Ford's stiffness had died down, but all the hours of activity had served to intensify his soreness. Despite his soreness and lingering confusion about what had happened the day before, Ford was so happy and content that he almost couldn’t smell the stench of blood stuck in his nose.

The family enjoyed their day well into the evening. As the sun began to set, many of the other residents of Harbondale came outside. The streets of the town square were full of people who had dodged the summer rays in favor of a cool night. The sun was low in the sky, the clouds were disappearing one by one, and the air became thick with the taste of salt.

Nearby the tent set up for the traveling performers, a scream rang out in the crowd, followed by a deep, bellowing hiss. Ford’s heart sank as he heard it.

A roar.

Another scream.

Silence.

Terror.

A thunder of footsteps could be heard from a short distance away. Ford wondered if he had been right all along, if the dwarven raiders had come to Harbondale undetected. Had they brought beasts of war? He had never heard that roar before. It was unfamiliar to him. Detestable. Everything about the sound made his bones feel cold. Brittle.

He tripped as he ushered his family on. They ran past him as he rose to his feet. He could see them not far ahead.

Ford sprinted as fast as his legs would let him. As long as he had them, it would be alright. He caught up with his wife and children a few seconds later, but along the way, he saw others alone and afraid.

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He heard it again.

Roaring.

Screaming.

The thunder of terrified footfall.

The air was vile now. Every breath left him parched, and he knew his family felt the same. Claire was choking on it, and Collin was turning red in the face from trying to hold his breath. Lara had tears streaming down her face as she sobbed silently. Was it silent? Or was there too much noise all around them?

Ford could feel and hear his heart pounding in his chest. The terror that had finally taken hold on him had seeped into every crack and crevice of his once-brave façade. He could feel the tears escaping his eyes and could see them on the cheeks of all the people around him. And it stung his eyes. Not the tears. The air. The air was extraordinarily hot, as well as thick with the taste of salt. Ford thought he could even smell the salt.

Not salt. Sulfur.

Another roar.

Ford felt as though his eardrums were about to burst. A high-pitched ring had made its home inside his brain. A hum. He felt a strong breeze, and suddenly noticed how dry his nostrils and lips were. Claire was coughing and crying as she ran. Lara had tears streaming down her face, but they seemed stuck to her skin. Collin had let go of his breath and was now choking and coughing on the air. Then he fell. Collin slipped on something wet in front of him. Ford wondered how there could be anything wet anywhere with how dry, salty, and utterly vile the air was. Stopping to turn back and collect his son, he saw the puddle underneath him. It had pieces of apple in it. He looked around. Many people were vomiting from the thick taste of salt in the air.

The stench of blood returned to Ford’s nostrils. But this time, Ford knew it was real.

Another roar.

Ford heard the roaring louder than ever, followed by a thunderous, echoing crack. Then more cracks and pops. He heard crunching and scraping.

More roars resounded together.

The despicable, gut-wrenching sounds were coming on louder and more frequently. Now Collin was crying as he quivered on the flagstone street. Ford hoisted up his son and carried him in his arms.

“Lara!”, he called.

Nothing.

“CLAIRE! LARA!", he tried again.

“H-here!”, he heard his wife’s cry. He ran with his son draped across his arms toward the voice.

A crunch.

A roar.

Another roar.

Ford saw his wife and daughter down the street. Claire had collapsed, and Lara had wrapped herself around her daughter, crying. With all the strength he could gather, he ran towards them. Collin felt limp in his arms. When he reached his wife and daughter, he checked the children for a pulse and any sign of breathing. Both were faint. Lara’s face seemed dry and peeled where her tears had been. There were no tears now. Just broken sobs. She sounded as though she had gone weeks without water and never stopped talking. Ford could tell that every uttered cry was causing her more physical pain.

He tried to calm her so they could run. He showed her the book and kissed her forehead as best he could with his dry and cracked lips. He felt as though he hadn’t had water in days. Then he heard the dreaded sounds.

A thud.

Talons dragging across the flagstones.

Silence.

Breathing.

Another thud.

More silence.

The roars.

One roar had been deeper and more dreadful. The other was high-pitched and deafening. Both were terrible and filled Ford with anxiety.

Lara screamed. Claire awoke. Collin stirred but did not wake.

A militiaman appeared from nearby. He had a cloth over his face and goggles over his eyes. His helmet clearly couldn’t fit his head over them. He drew a sword, unholstered a revolver, and bellowed toward the Caldwells.

“GO, GET BACK TO YOUR HOMES. IT ISN’T SAFE OUTSIDE!”

Taking aim at something Ford couldn’t see through the dried tears encrusted on his eyelids, the guard pulled the trigger, and Ford heard another thundering roar. This time it was like a pained scream. He turned to gather his family and push onward. Behind him, he heard another bone-chilling crunch. The family ran. Those who couldn’t were carried. A minute later, he heard the carnage behind them. More people screaming and more dreadful roars.

Ford knew there were people, probably even some of their friends, dying in the streets as they ran. Shaken by this realization, Ford had to let these people go if he wanted to get his family to safety. Still, he was haunted by his nightmare. Each time he passed someone in need, he heard the voices from his dream asking him, “Why didn’t you save them?”

The sun was all but gone now, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. No clouds were present, and no cool winds brought them reprieve. Ford and Lara continued running with their children.

The family arrived at their doorstep. One keyhole away from the safety and comfort of home. Ford fumbled for the key. He could still hear the cacophony of chaos from a short distance away.

Roaring.

Screaming.

Crying.

Wailing.

Crunching.

Feeding.

He slipped the key into the lock and ushered his family inside. Once inside the house, his wife collapsed onto the floor. Lara was screaming in pain, and her voice sounded broken. Collin was moaning by the tea table. Claire was crying ferociously on the sofa.

Ford rushed up the stairs to the bedroom. He knew he would need his medical kit. Unable to think, he threw open random drawers around the room until he found it. He slipped it into his bag, then grabbed a revolver that had been gifted to him by a general for his service. Then he hovered a shaking hand over another revolver. This one had been handmade by Ford himself.

As a relatively new weapon in Harbondale, the standard issue revolvers were rudimentary. The chamber had to be turned by hand to fire the next shot. Ford had been tinkering with one to make the chamber revolve automatically.

Should he dare try to take this gun, too? He’d never shot it himself, only with a machine. It was prone to binding and would occasionally misfire. He’d never had this much bad luck when learning to build clocks. Ford decided that one gun that might misfire was better than no gun at all if he lost his manual revolver and stashed it away in his bag with the rest of his things.

When Ford returned to the living room, he found his family in much the same state as he left them. Collin was still moaning and now crying. Claire was wailing on the sofa, curled into a ball. Lara was still not moving and barely breathing. He approached the medicine cabinet in the kitchen when he heard it yet again.

A roar.

Closer than he would have liked, the sound rang out through the air. And even though they were inside, the air tasted faintly of salt. He grabbed healing potions and antitoxins for himself and his family. Administering his own dose first, he went to Lara to rouse her from her sleep. He then gave her water. He did the same for Collin and Claire, who came around a little quicker and more easily than their mother.

“Daddy, what’s out there?”, wept Claire. “I don’t know, honey. And I don’t think any of us want to.”, he replied. “Let’s get some water and supplies and try to get out of town. Whatever they are, I don’t think they’re going to stop until everything is destroyed.” He said quickly.

Lara sniffled before rising. “Yes, come on, kids. Let’s let Daddy gather our supplies while we get you two your clothes and some pillows and blankets. We’ll put them in my bag.”, she said to her son and daughter.

A few minutes later, the four Caldwells reconvened in the kitchen. Each drank some more water and then hugged each other tightly.

“Now. No matter what, you kids keep moving until we get out of the city. We’ll go to the fields and take shelter in the medic tents for the night. The battle is over, but the tents are still up for the wounded to continue their recovery. We’ll be surrounded by other doctors and healers, and the militiamen will be there to protect everyone.”, Ford told his wife and children sternly, his bravery and nerve finally making their reemergence in his voice.

“If we drop anything, it’s lost until the city is safe again.”, he continued. “And if the city isn’t safe again?”, Collin asked. Ford paused. “Then the city isn’t safe again, and we’ll find a new home somewhere else.” He answered. “Now let’s go. There’s no time to lose."

Ford approached the door, taking a deep breath before turning the knob. And as he reached, he and his family heard it.