Sam tripped over a root, which were rare these days. Behind him, the wildfire churned, orange sparks flying everywhere. Sam scrambled back to his feet, his worn pants torn and bloodied. His unkempt hair flew around his face as he ran like a crazed person towards the edge of the cliff. Below lay a dry riverbed, the earth scorched black. Sam sent a fleeting glance towards the fire, the jumped.

As he fell, Sam curled himself into a ball. He tucked his head between his knees and tilted forward. His body spun through the air faster and faster, till his back hit the ground, rolling, and Sam flew to his feet. He ran as far away as he could from the raging fire.

Sam's memories of the last two months floated around in his head. The woman who had given some bread in exchange for his supposed "bravery" in rescuing her from the ruins of a building after an earthquake. The quiet lake in Transfere where he met Georgia. Sam had to leave her behind when a fire destroyed the beautiful oasis. And there was Jordan, who had been on the run with Sam since the beginning, when their hometown burned.

Sam gasped as his thoughts returned to the present. He looked at his scraped hands and knees. His palms were a bright, shiny red, and knees were caked in dirt and blood. Swinging his backpack off his shoulder, Sam opened it and rummaged around inside. After he found what he was looking for, Sam pulled it out. In his hand was a slender, steel rod. With the press off a concealed button, a purple light flicked out of the end. Sam waved the light over his scrapes. As the light ran over them, the scrapes disappeared as if by magic. Sam grinned and pocketed the tool.

Now that that was done, Sam took in his surroundings. He was obviously in a dried riverbed, because the ground was cracked and there were a few plants nearby. At least half a mile away were what looked like some ruins. Behind him, the land was flat for miles, littered with fires. Sam struggled to his feet, grabbed the backpack, and took off towards the ruins.