South of the abandoned farm where she awoke was a golden glow. At first she thought it might be the sun, but the light was too weak, too transient. Old warnings about following mysterious lights flashed through her mind, keeping her well away from whatever lay across the bridge.

In the end, curiosity and loneliness won out. Her family were not here. She had already known as much once she awakened; it had taken her this long to accept it. Even now, she believed they must be somewhere—and so she trotted towards the strange light, wondering if perhaps it had lured others with its glow. Perhaps, perhaps, it would give her answers.

At the end of her trek across the stone bridge she found a light yellow flame. Fueled by nothing she could see, yet large enough to make her wary of approaching. Yet she did not feel heat singing off her fur: this fire seemed gentle, in spite of its great size. She crept closer, and marvelled that the cold biting at her pawpads had lessened.

She heard something behind her, and she whirled around in surprise, fur half-bristled. Who goes there?