Fifteen years ago

A small girl, no more than six, stood, watching, as the house she'd lived her entire life in, burst into flames. The house where she'd found a kitten, hidden beneath her mother's prized rosebushes. The house where her father would take her outside in the middle of the night, and teach her the names of the stars.

She stood, frozen in place. A flicker of unease went through her, but she brushed it away. Of course Mama and Papa were fine! She was being silly, worrying. Imagine, what they would say! That she was being a baby, and no six-year-old girl should act like a baby.

Suddenly, she felt a tug on her sleeve, and found herself being pulled alongside someone. As she got a closer look at them, she found it was a boy. Not her age, but not a grown-up.

"Quickly!" he hissed. She tried to keep up, really she did, but the whole street was shaking from the impact and she was very tired. It was way past her bedtime, she realized.

"My parents!" she cried, twisting out of his grasp and stumbling back to the burning building. She was yanked back forcefully, the boy looking angry.

"We need to get out of here. Now." he said harshly.

Another bomb exploded, shaking them both to the core. "In here!" he yelled, pushing her into a shelter and diving in after.

They waited in that poorly made shelter, an orange flash illuminating the darkness every once in a while. They sat there, quietly, before the boy spoke.

"Someday, when I'm big, I'm going to be a soldier and fight in the war. I'll be a hero, you wait and see." his eyes shone, and you could hear the conviction in his voice.

The girl nodded, deciding that if this boy told her something that important, she should probably tell him something in turn. "This is the latest I've ever stayed up." she said confidentially.

He blinked. "What a silly thing to say." he remarked.

She decided she wasn't going to speak to him anymore. Eventually, the boy got tired of this and told her his name. "Clive." he said.

"Flora." she murmured.

The boy–Clive, she corrected, frowned. "You have a strange name."

Flora felt a sudden rush of anger. She'd been worried of this exact thing, and when she had gone to her mother, the woman had told her she had a beautiful name. And it had all been lies!

Clive, seeing her upset expression, quickly amended. "I mean, it's…unique. And pretty." That seemed to do the trick, as she appeared satisfied with his answer.

Soon, it was way past both their bedtimes, and they had succumbed to sleep. He woke first, shaking her awake. "I'm going now, okay?"

She nodded, although she wasn't sure where she herself was going to go now. "Okay. Thank you for helping me." she said.

"Yeah. You're welcome."

And he was gone.

A/N: Okay, yeah, it's short. But, what do you guys think? Do you think it'll be interesting? Have potential? Review and let me know if I should continue this!