He pushed against the burnt wood with unfamiliar limbs. The creaking filled his ears as ash sprinkled down onto his face. Sullen dying embers still glowed in some of the planks of elm and the air was full of the sharp resinous scent of burnt pine and flesh. His thoughts were in a confused jumble he barely understood but he knew most the most important thing was to find her. Where was she? He could smell her but the scent was all wrong. This was not how she usually smelled. Where was she? Where was she? Where was she?

A radiant light of the autumn sun fell on him as he shifted another piece of wood. With a crashing noise, dozens of elm and pine planks burnt by fire collapsed onto their side like an overweight animal. The cool air settled on him and he looked down. There was a body. It was not his. Was it? He had fingers now. He curled them and uncurled them experimentally. What happened? He remembered that man... slowly he turned his head over to see a blackened charred lump a few feet away. The smell...

He choked on his breath, shuffling to her on his hands and knees. He placed his hands on the charred skin and felt it slip under his hand, exposing the roasted meat below. There was a hollow pit in his stomach and suddenly it expanded into a gulf. He tried pressing the skin back to the meat, holding it there as though somehow it would fuse back to its whole. But it did not. No matter how insistently he pushed, eventually the body simply slumped down onto its side.

He placed hands, strange things, onto her shoulder and shook, whining piteously and hoping somehow she would wake up. Why would she not wake up?

He was a good boy.

Why could he not help?

He finally looked around them. Most of the house had collapsed, but some sections still stood resolutely, the paint giving hints of the pretty building that once stood. Where was the courtyard, with all of its beautiful flowers? Where was the tree that would provide shade at any time of day?

Where were all the places she would be?

His eyes fell upon a small alcove, a place where the wooden walls had fallen in such a way that they ended up barely holding each other up. Sheltering a small figure with polished white stones for eyes that glinted with the sunlight. Memories spilled over his eyes as he could see his mistress cleaning up the small table it sat on, putting fresh flowers around it, the bowl of things in front he was not allowed to sniff. How many days did it take to learn how he was supposed to put his jaw to the ground in front of it with her? How many times had they passed by it coming back from walking together?

He placed one hand in front of the other, dragging the unfamiliar body with him, over broken wood that carved deep gouges into his legs until he figured out to put his... knees? Knees, until he put his knees down and used them as well. He had to get close to it.

It had been burned as well. The paint and the small silk outfit she had carefully sewn together for it over months had all disappeared in the flames. But its white eyes remained, untouched by fire or by the ruins around it. Placidly staring.

His throat burned and he croaked out his first word, "why?"

The statue said nothing.

"Why... why didn't...?" He was unsure, his own voice was entirely new to him. He was not barking, growling, whining, he was talking. Like a human. But his thoughts could not linger on this miracle. He had no one to speak to besides the statue. "Why didn't you help her?" He asked, reaching for it. Its charred blackened form was rough to his fingertips. "Why didn't you save her!?" His eyes burned as tears fell over, dripping onto his thighs. "Was she not good enough? Was she bad to you? What did she do wrong!? If the gods are so great why didn't they kill him?" That man. A fire burned in his chest, burning his bones. He never liked that man who held his mistress. He smelled wicked and his habits were bad. "Why did she trust you!? Why..." he had tried, he had been old and half blind. His hearing was going but he knew his mistress' voice anywhere. He had tried.

He had failed.

His teeth had dulled with age. It broke through skin but it had not been enough.

He had failed his most important duty. He had failed her.

"Why... why didn't you... help me? Why did I fail?" He asked, the fire in his chest going out.

There was no answer from the statue. It instead simply stood there. Unseeing. He could see perfectly fine now, his hearing better than ever. He had hands and feet and could speak but she was not there to talk to him anymore. Her warm voice and hand. The scent of lilies and pine. All were in ash around him. His chest heaved, tears streaming down his face as he buried his face in his hands to keep the water from flowing out. But he could not stop it. The tears escaped his palms and trickled down his arms while his body rattled with sobs. Why had he not acted faster? Why did he not bite harder? Why did he fail? He tried so hard. He tried!

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"Can't believe he burnt down his entire house," a gravely voice harrumphed nearby.

"Well, it's one way to get out of debt I guess," another more tired one replied. "I guess we can just look around and see if anything valuable didn't burn up and sell that. Man's left us eight hundred coppers poorer after that last bad dice roll. Only right we get what's left of his stuff."

Slowly he turned around to see too men climbing over the collapsed wood and shifting pieces around, looking for things. They had not noticed him yet.

"... Damn!" One paused beside the burnt body of his mistress. "Aw, we can't sell a dead woman to a brothel, the bastard." He kicked the corpse.

How dare they.

How dare they!

Lang Lang got to his shaky feet, the flame burning in his chest again. Red sparks and flames cracked the statue behind him as he began walking towards the two men. Finally their faces turned to him, the scent of terror filling the air as they watched him.

He lunged, snarling and his teeth closed again around a blade that sparked painful white flames against his own red ones. He twisted his head around, attempting to wrench it from its wielder's hand. The sleeve of the offender flashed and several long leaves, sharp as daggers and infused with crackling energy stabbed into his burning skull. Howling he released the blade and shook his giant head, flicking off red chunks of fire that landed on the ground around his paws large enough to crush a man's chest. Why could these people never just leave him and his town alone? He had worked so hard, he tried so much to keep people happy and safe. This was what she would have wanted, was that desire not good enough?

He wheeled around, finding his opponent retreating backwards, leaving drops of red sap in his trail. He snarled and followed, focused on this hateful being who dared invade this place he had made. The form slipped between a narrow alleyway that Lang Lang barreled through, chunks of wood and earth forced aside or bursting from the intense heat rolling off his bones.

Liu Xie ran out onto a wider street and Lang Lang was hot on his heels, nails digging deep into the earth and leaving scorch marks as he leapt over the false human to cut off his route . He turned around to face him with a deep growl reverberating from the fires that whipped around his bones. Black clouds of smoke billowed around the road and the ground beneath his paws cracked from heat.

The blade that had so far stymied his attempts to rip off Liu Xie's head reflected the crimson glare of flames yet showed no sign of slowing down despite the deep gory wound on his arm where thick red ooze pattered to the ground. He hated sacred weapons; they were frustrating to break and could hurt him. So far Liu Xie had been fighting defensively, what was he waiting for? Were the heavens going to rain sacred water on Lang Lang and douse him?

Lang Lang took a step forward towards Liu Xie and felt cold spears rattle through his body, blinding him briefly with pain as their cold purifying touch rushed over his bones and doused some of his flames. He shook his head like a wet dog and looked back up just in time to see the length of a blade held tightly by its wielder, reflecting thousands of eyes of thousands of different beings, being driven straight into his skull. As though lightning had struck his very spirit he felt himself shatter and be thrust apart while pulled back together by a million desperate blind hands and claws that grasped at him. His memories cracked open, he reeled back and howled in pain, whipping his head around to throw off sword and wielder.

Suddenly the groping blind hands were falling away stealing bits of his flame and Lang Lang backed up, collapsing into a smaller form with a thunderous noise that rattled the earth. He clutched at his face as he fell to his knees, eyes watering as the searing agony coursed through him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes to stay open as he looked at the horrible blight that had come to inflict itself on his town... his town...

So many things were burning.

Buildings had collapsed, been crushed by his rampage. Flames with deep black smoke curled high into the sky. Everywhere he looked were ruins, blackened bones of the town he sought to build for others. He clutched his face and screamed, boiling blood pouring out from his mouth and onto the ground before he threw himself back towards Liu Xie, arms outstretched. A dozen thin spears of water struck the ground right before he could grab the man but he pushed through them headless of the cold purification held within them, smoke spilled from his body as he got close enough to grab Liu Xie's neck.

The feeling of the white blade of the sword sinking into his stomach stopped him in his tracks, and he collapsed to his knees, vomiting more boiling blackened blood. Liu Xie pulled his sword free from Lang Lang's stomach.

Lang Lang looked up, past Liu Xie's inscrutable expression to one of the still standing roofs, where an unfamiliar person stood, a halo of water cycling behind them. After too long moment he realized the roof belonged to the clinic, somehow still in one piece. Of course, the water from Lin's courtyard...

"Why are you still grieving, Lang Lang? It's been so long, aren't you tired?"

He forced himself to get back up, staggering a little as he went back to four paws and ran on unsteady legs towards his shrine. Was everyone okay? Were they hiding in there? He had to go find them. He had to make sure they were okay.

The shrine's white painted walls gleamed solitarily among the destruction. The doors opened unbidden except by instinct as he staggered up the steps before collapsing finally at the threshold. Inside, shrouded by the cool darkness, was the statue of his mistress. She was staring down at him serenely, as though any moment he might feel her warm hand on his head again.

"Good boy."

The fires were creeping closer to them. The smell of blood mingled with burning pine and elm.

"Such a good boy."

She was leaning against the wall, her chest covered in blood that dripped down her arm and onto her hand as she pet him, sticking to his white fur.

"It'll be okay."

His chest unevenly rose and fell. He tried to pull himself closer one last time, dragging his viscera on the ground with him before he fell after two steps.

"Good boy, Lang Lang."

He closed his eyes, leaning into that warm hand again.

He tried so hard.

He tried.