The forest was burning too fast for anything other than birds to make it out alive. If it still had the strength to run, it ran until its legs were too charred to move and it succumbed to the fire. All others simply dug as deep into the cool earth as they could and hoped it would be safer or quicker than the fates of everything else.
Within a week there was no movement aside from the still-raging inferno, further spurred on by summer's warmth and the false promises of a storm coming soon, maybe tomorrow, always just over the horizon but far too late to save anything. The surrounding areas were evacuated and prayers were thrown up into the hazy sky.
Within a further week the fire seemed to stop spreading but continued to burn on as brightly as it had on the first day. Surely all the fuel must be gone, people thought, and surely with nothing left to burn it would soon extinguish itself and we can rebuild, people hoped.
Deep within the forest, near the heart of the fire, the ash covering the ground began to stand up. Hundreds of little bundles of ash wobbled to feet unused to existence but still remembering what movement was like back when they were alive and running from the warmth that embraced them now.
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