𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

Chapter 21

The unapologetically loud and impatient punches against her door made Cristine jump from her bed. Her dark locks wildly bounced around her face, eyes wide. The first thing her hand grabbed was the knife under her pillow. The sleep still had her brain and eyes in its grasp, but with a quick jerk Cristine marched into the door and pulled it open. Her brows furrowed in confusion, coming face to face with an out of breath Troy. A faint coat of sweat glistened in his slightly flushed face and his hair looked as messy as hers. "Troy? What is it?" Cristine asked frantically stepping outside. In the span of seconds, Troy pushed the steel of a gun inside her palm and enveloped his hand around hers when he felt her tug the revolver back.

"What?" Cristine her mouth twitched downwards at the force of his grip. It was clear something had happened.

"Go to the infirmary and be ready." His voice was terse and it was just then that Cristine her eyes stretched from the orange glow behind his frame. Ignoring the burning tingle around her fingers she gaped at the several fires. They were too small to be bonfires and too big to be campfires. The firm squeeze around her hand moved to her upper arm and the crisp order elicited a sharp breath from the woman. "Now, Cristine." There was a dark haze when looking into those blue eyes. Most of his attention gauging her response when he saw Cristine's face slacken into an indifferent mask of icy focus.

Troy rather she stay here to deal with possible casualties. But her eyes said otherwise and feeling the need to repeat himself, the soft words made him pause when he reopened his mouth. "I'll keep an eye out for things here. Be safe when you go out." A bout of surprise flicked past Troy's face. Her vulnerable declaration briefly messing with his senses. For a minuscule second - a heavy wave punched through his gut and his hand slid down the length of Cristine's arm. The end of his fingertips twitched the moment he ended the touch. Slowly relaxing, the end of Troy's chin tipped down in understanding.

-

Time passed. The militia went out to inspect the spread of fires surrounding the Ranch. The rest stayed inside with their guns close by. There weren't any casualties Cristine needed to tend to as of yet. But fear cemented in the people. The mothers were huddled inside the infirmary tent with their children and Cristine did her best to alleviate their concerns and terrors by talking. A handful she'd given anxiety pills, but that was the extent of her treatment. Tapping her fingers against her gun holster, Cristine stepped out the cover of the infirmary tent into the glow of ambers in the distance roaring on the hills like threatening columns that could collapse. Only, the fires stiffly prevailed in the exact same spot as they started hours ago. Not spreading an inch. Occasionally, the cluster of white flashlights that belonged to the militia flickered wildly in the dark to search for the culprits.

Rubbing her arms, the midnight chill sunk through her jacket. Cristine tried following the dull, pale light through the shadows as best she could. From the distance she spotted her father and Madison Clark conversing. Whatever the subject, her father languid body language was the complete opposite of the mother's stiff one. He occasionally shook his head, perhaps disagreeing or trying to appease Madison. Rubbing her thumb against the bridge of her nose, Cristine was too distracted with the man-made fires to care. Her head throbbed, body ached and senses tingled with the icy dread prickling her nerves. She wanted to jump into action from the adrenaline that pulled taut at her skin, but Cristine knew she couldn't afford to go out. She felt useless.

This tactic threw the whole Ranch in disarray; families were huddled together. Through all the ado their armed militia double checked all weak and blind spots at the fences. The closest fire was yards from where the rebuild adobe stood, which was both surprising and infuriating given that it was a just behind the fences from where patrol happened. Even an amateur should have spotted it. Cristine couldn't help but stare and watching the flames jolted something within her. Digging her nails deeper into the fabric covering her arms, the pain somehow cleared up her mind. The pull of her mouth clenched and slackened while staring at the never-ending fires.