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"No! Matthew that's a grease-fire!" The instructor's words were far too late. The children were learning how to cook meat on a bowl-grill. No one was misbehaving or playing around, everyone was very careful. In fact, some were a little too careful. When the fire sprang up, the eight-year-old partners had no idea what to expect. All they saw was, to them, a gigantic pillar of flame. In a panic, Matthew, who believed he was doing the right thing, immediately went to the cans of water and dirt on the ground, just like the ones that were outside of his tent. He had been trained in fire-safety, but in the rush of adrenaline he had made a crucial mistake and selected the can of water instead of the can of dirt. The fire hissed like a dragon as the water collided with the flame. Instead of putting it out, snuffing it and saving the day as the boy had imagined in the split second before he committed the act, the fire became even angrier and revitalized. It had been given enough strength to leap from the confines of the grill and attack the rope that was only a few feet away. Perhaps the fire-retardent had worn away from the twine of the rope, baked away by the sun and the wind. Or perhaps it had not been treated in the first place. The reason behind it didn't matter now; the fire had its grasp on the length and proceeded to crawl up a foot every few seconds. Already the activity was dispersing in a frenzy.

"Stay here!" Kval ordered his sister, as he bolted toward the action. The metalworking station was at least fifteen yards from the cooking station, and he made that distance in nearly ten seconds flat. The tipi loomed twenty feet in the air. It was meant to cover a room big enough to fit a classroom and a half of high schoolers; a decorative landmark at best. Now, it was a smoldering tower that threatened, at any moment, to tilt in any direction and fall. If it fell toward the cooking station, dozens of people could be seriously injured; if it fell toward the other tipis the conflagration could spread out of control. If, by graces, it fell in the only other direction, they might be able to control it. But as it stood, swaying and taunting like a problematic two-year-old, the terror and fright could only be expressed by the dozens of shouting and screaming children trying to get away. Kval immediately grabbed the closest dirt-bucket he could find. The grills had to be snubbed; if the tipi fell on them, the grease-fires that sprouted up would be too much to handle until help arrived. He took the can of dirt and dumped it in the closest grill, soiling the burgers that sizzled and popped juicily. The instructor that had shouted was there as well, warning him and anyone else that was helping to get away. His shouts were not heeded. Along with the rabbit, six other adults were scattered about, throwing dirt onto grills, mixing water into mud and diffusing the monster that had started this mess in the first place. With all of the grills taken care of, the tipi was beginning to sway even more. The other ropes had begun to catch fire, but they were protected and treated to help prevent its spread. For the time being, it seemed that the structure would hold, but that didn't mean they could rest. Kval teamed up with a mom, grasping the nozzle of a hose while she went to the faucet to unleash the water. It was no fire-hose, the pressure was barely enough to reach the bottom of the structure. He stepped closer, daring the threatening, smoking beast to so much as wiggle its little toe. As he stepped closer, the heat was almost overwhelming. He could feel it pierce through the skin, the stinging infrared radiating across his face and hands and any other exposed inch like a scolding shower. The heavy, black smoke began to belch downward at them, ash and soot from the burning canvas thick enough to blind. And it was hot, like the sigh of a sleeping dragon, it floated in the lungs and irritated with a violent cough. But still the rabbit took another three steps forward, and then to the side. The canvas of the structure must have been treated with fire-retardent as well, for it was not progressing as fast as he had expected. That was good news; if they could just last another five minutes or so, help would come and this monster could be subdued. At least, that was the feeling until the tipi to his right caught flame as well.

Lyza watched in silence as her brother went to the heat of the fray--literally. She and everyone at the metalworking station were all silent. It was like watching a trainwreck; they should have probably gotten away, just like the cooking station had done, but no one could move. Not even the instructor ordered them to get away. The flaming monument was surreal. Lyza had never seen fire like this; all those drills at school that she thought were so silly and just a waste of time suddenly rushed through her head. She imagined the people shouting and yelling to get away from the station were her friends and teachers at school, everyone frantically trying to get out of hallways that were like the throats of volcanoes. Though her eyes were fixated on her brother, in their periphery she spotted two figures running in a different direction from all the others. They were headed toward the tipi nearby the one set aflame. Even as Lyza saw this a creeping feeling came over her neck. Just as her brother picked up the hose, the creeping feeling spread like the fire that sprouted from the far side of the engulfed structure, alighting on the grass, which quickly began smoking. "Okay, everyone, we should get away from here," the instructor finally said, gathering his senses. "Everyone move onto the road and we'll head back to the leatherworking station." "Wait, mister," Lyza started to say, but he cut her off. "Everyone, quiet, let's all leave orderly; no one panic, everything's fine." "But--" Lyza tried to speak up. "Shhhh!" The badger next to her hissed. Lyza gave him a sour look, and as the people began to leave, she glanced toward the tipis. Kval had his back to the other one. Didn't he see the smoke on the grass? She spotted it--it was getting closer to the second tipi. The rabbit looked to the crowd of people leaving; had no one spotted it? She thought for a second of what to do--if she said anything she'd just get yelled at again. Her brother was too busy with the first structure. Without even realizing it, she was threading her way into the trees, away from the evacuation. By the time she was on the other side of the copse, she had already decided she had to warn the boys--or at least check if they were still in there. The ground thudded beneath her shoes as she panted with the fastest sprint she could muster. She was not nearly as fast as her brother, maybe only a little faster than Robert if she had to be honest, but something in her turned the dial up to eleven, and in less than a minute she was just a yard away from the yet touched tipi. But the smoke was creeping steadily to the structure. As she neared, she saw that the support for the structure was clearly wood, and that creeping hand swept her again. Between the tipi and the concrete slab was a gap, where air could circulate underneath; she made her way to this gap and quickly ducked her head in, just to take a peek. There, huddled in the far end of the room, were two boys. "Hey!" Lyza shouted, and wriggled through the gap. "What the heck are you guys doing!?" "H--h--hiding!" The older squirrel responded. He appeared to be the older one, but they were both very young, definitely not older than eight. Lyza ran to them, and pulled at both of them. "This isn't the place!" She shouted, and just as she did, she heard a cackling to her left. White smoke curled from the ground up into the false haven; the fire laughed as it bit into the wood. There came a gust of wind, and it roared to furious life, the wolf was huffing and puffing, slavering to the burn the house down. "C'mon c'mon, this way!" Lyza ordered, tugging the young kits almost violently; they followed her hesitantly, frightened beyond belief. She went to the far side of the tipi, where there was an opening. Ushering them through, she jumped out from the darkness into the sunlight, blinded for a second. When she glanced back, the flames were creeping up the wooden leg they had stood not a few feet from, and tracing around the lateral supports that ringed the inside of the cone. Watching only for a moment, she hooked her hand onto the older boy's arm and together they ran, toward the road. They were behind the cooking station, so they had to loop around. Anxious to be too close, Lyza decided to lead them far out before rounding, and as she did she witnessed five trucks pull down the road. From inside and from the bed of each truck at least three, sometimes four or five people, jumped out and immediately began divvying fire-extinguishers. They spread out, each one taking on his or her own task.

Kval had to back away; the smoke and the heat was becoming too much. But thankfully, as he did, the relief crew arrived. He was thankful there was a relief crew in the first place; if there wasn't things would have gotten even worse. Already a second tipi was under attack, but it didn't appear too bad. He ditched his hose, his partner having already ditched manning the faucet. He went and turned it off, watching as nearly three dozen people swarmed the area with extinguishers and shovels. For a while, he debated whether or not he should grab an extinguisher to help, but when the instructor ordered him to go with the others to the road, he decided he would just get in the way. Besides, his sister was probably worried about him. He didn't take his time as he power-walked down the white-gravel street, but he didn't go too fast either. He still had to get his breath back; the smoke had all but made him pass out. In fact, he could almost swear he was still breathing out black. His steps faltered. A memory. Just a memory. He shook his head, so violently he could feel the blood in his temples ache. With renewed energy he ran the last several yards to the crowd of people watching from the far distance away. "Lizzy?" Kval asked as he approached. A few people glanced at him, but from the edge on the far side he heard her. "Over here." He moved swift as his agile legs could after the excitement, and found his sister--along with two squirrel kits, firmly attached to her. She looked up from between them. The brother bunny smiled. "What's going on, here?" "We didn't mean to!" The older brother squirrel blurted. "Hey, hey," the adult rabbit knelt down. "Everything's okay. Where's your mom? Or your dad? Do you know?" "Dad's gonna kill us!" The younger brother warbled. "It's all your fault Matty!" "Shut up, Lawry!" "We're so dead." "No one's dead," Kval said, looking at his sister. He smiled, proud that she was remaining so calm. "And no one's hurt either," he sighed with relief. "I think your parents would like to know you're safe," he said, standing up. "You guys wait here, I'll be right back." The young squirrel kit looked up at the girl he clung to, "Are...are we in big trouble?" "I won't tell," Lyza promised, smiling; "If you don't tell my brother I chased after you." As the boys promised, she glanced into the distance. From the two tipis, the smoke was beginning to dissipate, and while there were still a dozen or so people spraying foam from red canisters here and there, the others were packing things up and heading over to the crowd she was a part of, making sure everyone was okay. Amidst the crowd, walking with an older rabbit, was a very tired cooking instructor, father of two young boys, the youngest of which threatened to pop the girl he clung to as they approached.