Burble rolled over on her bed - but it wasn't really a bed, was it? More of a pile of clothes, a heap if you will. Looking up past the boys' hammock through the roof, she stared at the stars; their soft glow always comforted her after a bad nightmare such as this one, wiping away the doubt and shame that had followed her since the night of her family's death.
She'd been trying to save them, to make any noise through the haze of smoke that was choking her, cutting off her air and scraping her throat raw. Her mind was racing but up on blocks, going in circles of panic and despair. Of course this was the one night her parents were out, had locked her baby sister's room, had shuttered the windows and promised her that they'd be back, but they were, they had to be, what was happening, why was the roof caving in, who were the men in red and black armor, why did-
"Burble, shh! What's wrong?" Slither, her informal elder sister, looked over from her pallet. "Nightmares again?"