Enna stared up at the rain of sparkling fireworks. A magical rocket sang up into the sky. A thundering boom shook the trees, and sparkles of red and yellow spattered in a star pattern. More fireworks followed--green, blue, red, and more. Crowds cheered and clapped, nothing but a dull roar in the distance. Enna wrapped her black cloak more tightly around herself. She was perched on a grassy mound on the side of a hill. When the fireworks started, she dropped her walking staff and collapsed on the hillside to watch. The fireworks were remarkable, beautiful, but Enna only saw a colorful blur through her tear-filled eyes.

She was too late. Nothing could stop it now.

A loud roar rang up from the Cold Mountain--resonant, throaty, remote. Enna startled--adrenaline raced through her. But she was so tired, so sad ... she staggered to her feet. All she knew was that she had to get away. She was too late, and her people were too far away even to hear her shout.

No one else knew.

The roaring got louder. Enna stumbled down the path, fighting the grief and misery. Then she suddenly remembered. She wiped her eyes and broke into a run, racing towards the last hope her village had.