Soon after breakfast, Kurt scampered out into the warm, morning light, basking in the heat that came with the new spring. With his belly filled, he had plenty of energy to run around in circles while he waited for Blaine to trot after him. Even with his energy restored, Blaine was still as slow as a turtle. Once Blaine caught up with him, Kurt ran far ahead again, going around to the side of the house to check on their garden. "Blaine! Blaine!" He cried, bouncing on the tips of his toes. Within moments, Blaine appeared around the side of the house, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out what Kurt was carrying on about. Pointing down to the sprouts that had popped up through the grass, Kurt smiled as he plopped to the ground. "Our flowers are starting to poke up. See?"

He brushed his fingers over what he thought was the daisies, and he giggled at the way the silky stem tickled his palm. "I dont think we need to water them today. Daddy said its going to rain later." Patting the ground beside of him after he made sure he wasnt going to crush a flower, he said, "Come, Blaine. We can stay out here until it starts to sprinkle. Daddy said we need to come back in when we feel the first raindrop, though... I get the chills so easily."

Blaine lowered beside of Kurt, dropping their storybook into his lap, and he reached out and touched the roses. "How much longer until they start to bloom?" He mumbled, wishing that the green stem would bud right before his eyes.

"Perhaps another week." Kurt said, pulling the book from Blaines lap and setting it in his own. "My maman says that we will be lucky with our flowers because they will open up sooner so they can hear my beautiful voice." That made Blaine grin, an obvious amusement at how pampered Kurt was by both of his parents. Blaine privately hoped that he could spoil him just as much, and he instantly thought of their story, which Kurt enjoyed very much.

Scooting closer to Kurt so he could pull the book between both of them, he muttered, "Do you want to hear our story?" At Kurts eager nod, Blaine flipped the book open to the new chapter, "Young Aurora was raised in a far off cottage that was distant from the kingdom, which was working very hard to rid itself of all of the needles to keep their princess safe. Unknowing of this, Aurora went about her days as a peasant girl, for the fairies knew that if she had even the slightest clue that she was princess, she would return to the kingdom, where Maleficent was plotting to kill her. This girl had no friends other than the animals that came to her window to hear her song, and the strange boy that appeared at her door every day. With the promise that he would not harm the princess, he was let back into the home, but watched with a cautious eye by the protective fairies."

He turned the page to a picture of Aurora speaking to the prince through her bedroom window, a dreamy look in her eye. "Aurora didnt know any other men, but she knew there was no other man like the one that visited her in her wake and in her sleep. She grew to love the man, although he was so secretive with her, and by her sixteenth birthday, she pleaded to run away with him and escape her domineering guardians. He was hesitant, though, and she knew not why, but he soon left her and he did not return. In her desperate need to be with him, the only friend she had, Aurora left the cottage in the middle of the night. She followed the trail of hoof prints his horse had left behind, and soon enough, she found herself at the edge of a decaying kingdom. It was a horrible sight, with houses burned down, and rubble laid out at her feet."

Opening to the last page of the chapter, Blaine pointed at the picture of Aurora wandering over to the only needle left in the kingdom, one that Maleficent was hiding away, "Maleficent had kept her eye on that prince as he came and went from the woods, and although she had not been able to track down Aurora for years, she knew that he had something to do with her. And he had finally lured her from wherever they had been hiding her away, and she swooped down on her crippled wings to see the glowing Aurora. Even though she hissed at the blinding light that radiated off of Aurora, she fell back on the waning power that was left in her, and she guided Aurora over to the needle that she had planned to kill her with. The fairies, who had been alarmed by Auroras disappearance, followed her to the kingdom on quick wings, and they cried for Aurora to stop, but it was too late. Aurora helplessly pricked her finger on the needle, and she fell to the ground, seemingly dead."

He paused when Kurt gasped and shook his head, very upset that Maleficent had won, and he opened to the next chapter so he could make Kurt happy again, "As Auroras body was carried up to the bedroom that had been made up for her since her birth but never used, the fairies hurried off to get the prince, who had gone back to his own kingdom when he realized that he couldnt be with Aurora without putting her in danger if she wanted to leave with him, and they summoned him to save her. They soon arrived back at the kingdom, where Maleficent was in a flurry of wickedness, tearing the entire kingdom apart. The prince went after her with only bravery in his heart. All fear of her had gone when she had hurt his Aurora. The two engaged in battle, exchanging blow for blow, and the entire kingdom feared that the prince wasnt nearly strong enough to destroy Maleficents magic, but love spurred him on, and he stabbed the evil fairy through her head because her heart had died long ago."

Showing Kurt the last page of the storybook, which had a picture of Aurora being kissed awake, Blaine said, "The bad fairy died, and Auroras hair shined brighter than ever, shedding light on the entire kingdom and farther. The people celebrated that they were out of the vice that had strangled the life out of their kingdom, but the prince didnt stay to be cheered on for killing their worst enemy. He climbed the tower stairs to the highest room of the castle, where his princess was in slumber. Sneaking into her room, the prince went over to the sleeping girl, and he bent over her. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and her eyes opened, revealing a light glow. The princess and her prince wed soon after that, when Auroras light brought life back to the kingdom. The prince and princess danced together, and they lived happily ever after."

Blaine closed the book, and Kurt celebrated the ending by tossing his hands up, but he quickly drew them back down. Looking down at his palm, he frowned at a spot of wetness that ran over his skin. "Oh, no! Rain!" He hopped up to his feet, and Blaine followed him, both of them jumping at the crack of thunder above them. Putting the book under his shirt when several raindrops fell from the sky, Blaine held his arm above Kurts head, trying to protect him from the shivers. "Hurry, Blaine!" They ran back inside the warm house, and as they shook the rain off of themselves, they glanced back outside as the rain poured to the ground. Pressing his nose to the glass, Kurt scrunched his face up, "This wouldnt be a very good day for a wedding!"

Blaine laughed at that, and he moved to Kurts side, watching the rain come down. Between them, Kurts hand searched for his, and they twined their fingers together.

For a long time, Blaine had never loved pictures. They didnt mean much to him when he was little, as he sat by himself and stared at the pale walls that were decorated in family pictures that didnt include him. His family had looked so happy without him, and Blaine had learned to lower his eyes from the walls and stare at his hands instead. As he grew up and went to live with Kurt, Blaine still didnt spare much thought to pictures, even though he did enjoy raising his head and searching through the pictures, many of which he started appearing in. Now, he was twenty years old, and his fear of pictures, fear of seeing himself-or not seeing himself-had gone away with the birth of his baby, Hunter. From the time that he had first opened his eyes, Hunter had loved pictures. Blaine had seen it the day that Hunter was brought to him, that Hunters eyes were sharp, like Kurts. Hunter had stared at everything around him, especially Blaine, as if he was trying to understand, while Archer couldnt keep his attention on one thing for very long. Archers head turned this way and that, trying to find something to keep him amused for about three seconds, but Hunters head had stayed still.

And when he was big enough to raise his hands, hed immediately wanted something to hold, so hed been quickly introduced to pencils and paper, the one thing that Blaine had never had when he was Hunters age. The first few sheets of paper that Hunter had scribbled on had been nothing more than lines and squiggles, but very soon after he had enough strength in his arms and hands, he was drawing pictures of his family, with every detail laid out perfectly. Blaine hadnt understood the babys pictures for the longest time, unaware of how someone so tiny could be so strong in his mind and in his hands, but he and the rest of the family had eventually accepted Hunters eccentricity because they could see the smiles on his face as he doodled. And Blaine knew that everyone in their small, but perfect, family were happiest in their peculiarity.

As Blaine held those precious pictures in his hands, from the first dot that Hunter had placed on a piece of paper, to the last, intricate sketch hed ever put together, he realized how very much he loved pictures. He clung to them as tightly as he could, knowing that hed rather lose his hands before he lost any of these beautiful pictures. Flipping through the papers again, Blaine paused on the first picture Hunter had ever drawn, and he thought back to the day he placed a crayon in Hunters palm. Hunter had been especially fussy on that day, when hed first started teething, and hed looked up at Blaine with damp eyes, as if he was begging him to take the pain away. Blaine had knelt by his son, and after hed applied a rag that was full of ice to the babys cheek, hed carried him into the kitchen to give him something to do to be distracted from the throbbing. Burt had recently picked up some crayons and markers, knowing that they would use them one day, and Hunter had been drawn to the crayons that were set on the table. Hed stretched his arms out and grabbed all the crayons he could, and Blaine had mindlessly scooted a piece of paper in front of him, unknowing that Hunter would actually do anything but shake the crayons like a maniac. But Hunter had looked down at the paper, and before Blaine had blinked, the baby had scraped the crayons against the paper. It had been the wrong end of the crayon, but Hunter seemed to enjoy coloring the dull paper in bright colors, choking on the spit in his mouth as he giggled through a swollen mouth.

Blaine ran his fingers over the few marks on the paper, seeing a dark spot spread over the edge of the paper as a tear soaked through it. Wiping his eyes so he couldnt ruin Hunters drawings, he gasped when something grabbed his knee. The only other person who had been in the room when hed sat down on the couch had been Kurt, who was resting by the window and was idly knitting a pair of booties for Archer in preparation for the icy winter to come. He hadnt expected Kurt to slap a hand down on his knee, so the alarm of being yanked out of his reveries made him jerk his head up very suddenly. Luckily, he didnt startle Archer with his abrupt movement, but he still felt bad for spooking against his baby. The little boy, who seemed to be so far up in a cloud that he was oblivious to everything around him, moved his hand up from Blaines knee, and he stretched on his toes in his attempt to grab Blaines hand. Blaine realized that hed been resting his chin on his knuckles, while he held the pictures in his other, and he quickly lowered it so Archer could reach it.

Tiny fingers wrapped around his, and Archer pulled Blaines hand down to his face. Staring at his knuckles with wide eyes, Archer held it close as he tried to climb up to Blaines lap. Blaine boosted the baby up, and he set the pictures aside so he could bundle him up. "Hi, baby." He mumbled, resting him against his shoulder. Patting his bottom, Blaine felt a pair of wet lips brush against his ear, and small teeth nibble on his earlobe. From the way he was sitting, his eyes caught on Kurt, who had stopped standing and had peacefully curled up in the windowsill, warming himself in the sunlight for the short amount of time that it had left. He quietly hummed to himself as his fingers worked, pushing the needles in and out of the thread. Kurts blue eyes briefly lifted at the noise Blaine had made, and his firm lips softened at the way Archer bounced himself on Blaines thighs.

Archer plopped against Blaines stomach, sliding down onto his bottom, and he grinned when his eyes caught Kurts. "You love your daddy, dont you, pretty baby?" Kurt cooed to him, and Archer playfully patted Blaines legs, proud of himself for getting the attention of his parents. As he tapped Blaines jeans, one of his hands came across Blaines, his smooth fingertips brushing Blaines calloused knuckles. He looked down at his daddys muscular hands, and he laid his palm over the back of Blaines hand. Blaines hand was much wider and longer than Archers, with darker skin, and hair that dusted his knuckles, while Archers hand was only speckled in freckles. Flipping his hand over, Archer poked Blaines fingers, silently asking him to do the same. Blaine hesitantly turned his hand up, showing Archer his palm, and Archer looked closely at the blackness that stretched across his red skin. After so many times of tearing his brown skin apart, Blaine noticed that the dark color had never grown back, and had been replaced by a pale red.

"My hands dont look like yours." Archer peeped, touching Blaines palm, and then his own. His eyes widened when his fingers encountered not silkiness, like his, but roughness. "Daddy, why do you have cuts on your hands?"

Blaine closed his hands around Archers, the veins straining against his thick skin. Glancing up at the sound of shuffling, Blaine saw his husband move off of the windowsill, concern drawn on his face from his puckered lip to his wide eyes. Slowly padding over to the two on the couch, Kurt lowered beside of Blaine, and he reached down to stroke Archer, who smiled at the arrival of his other parent. Archer held his hands out for him, and even though his intentness had been momentarily diverted from his last comment, his mind went back to the matter of Blaines hands. "Père has soft hands like me! You know who else has scratchy hands? Hunner! He was always holding a pencil, and it rubbed his hands!"

Kurt frowned at the innocent mention of the lost baby, "Yes, darling. But you often said that Hunter kept you warm. And even though your daddys hands are a little prickly, they keep you warm, dont they?" Closing his hands over Archers, Kurt moved them over to Blaines and laid them on top of his.

"Warm!" Archer agreed, pinching Blaines fingers in his and pulling them away from his palm. That time that he looked down at Blaines scars, there wasnt confusion on his face, but adoration that he had his daddys hands to warm him up. Even though he didnt understand why Hunter wasnt there to warm him up anymore, Blaine decided that he would always have him to keep the cold away.

During his stay at Karofskys home, Hunter liked to think of his parents. They werent like anyone else, not his grandparents, not his uncle, not even each other. As he considered his parents, he realized that, at the very most, love was the only thing they had in common. His daddy was a very quiet, and somewhat clumsy, man who wallowed in uncertainty. Nearly every decision he had to make was enough to furrow his eyebrows and squint his eyes for a good hour until he finally abandoned the problem, with only a headache in conclusion of all the puzzlement. His père, on the other hand, was a gossip, who could chat anyones ear off. Unlike his daddy, who tipped over if the lightest breeze brushed him, his père let the wind carry him about like a butterfly. The only uncertain thing about his père was where he was going to float next. His père went about everything with whatever thought came to his mind first, and he didnt look back at the consequences. His parents, although nothing alike, had a perfect marriage because they complemented each other so well. While his père bounced around in the clouds, his daddy sat on the ground, but, sometime after they met, they left the spots that they preferred to be in, and they met in the middle, in a place where both of them could be happy, just below the clouds, and high above the ground. It was a place that they kept each other safe. His père was his daddys confidence to break out of the hard shell that hed wrapped around himself to keep danger away, and his daddy was a reminder for his père that even though going on adventures could be fun for brief moments at a time, sitting still for long enough to raise a family, which could provide constant enjoyment for him, was even better.

They both had their moments when they would separate from each other, when his père ran outside to a particularly sunny day, and he climbed all the way to the top of a tree to see his clouds again, and his daddy sat at the bottom of that tree, looking up at his père but never daring to go after him, for fear of falling down and getting hurt. But those moments were short lived before his père would come back down and sit in his daddys arms. Hunter noticed that those times when his parents would just hold each other outlasted any other time of the day. They wouldnt say anything, but they would cling to each other, for minutes that went on and on. Sometimes his père would walk up to his daddy, and hed snuggle under his chin, and hed whisper an endearment, usually something loving, but also, at times, something playful, silly, a word that made his daddy chuckle. And, other times, his daddy would just watch with a pair of gentle eyes. He didnt have much of an interest in sports, like most other daddies did, so the TV was often left to him or Archer to watch their favorite movies. And because Archer always picked a movie with a princess in it, his père would watch, too, but when Hunter looked back at his parents, who would curl into each other during movie time, his daddys eyes wouldnt be on the screen, but on his père. After seeing his daddy watch his père, Hunter got into the habit of watching Archer. He always wondered what his daddy was looking at when he just watched, and he could never figure it out because, even though Archer was beautiful, and he liked counting the freckles on his skin, he abandoned his task of looking at him when Archer, who switched emotions so quickly, would go from giggling one minute to screaming the next, which startled Hunter from his trance over him. Archer often confused Hunter.

One night, when his père had fallen ill with the shivers and the sniffles, his daddy had slaved over him relentlessly, just as he had when Hunter was sick. Hed carried his père off to their bedroom, and ten minutes later, hed reemerged in a frenzy, rushing off to get a glass of milk heated up, and some syrupy medicine to help a sore throat. While his daddy was out and about, Hunter had crept down the hallway and peeked through the crack in the door, looking in on his pink faced père. Even in sickness, his père had been beautiful, with only a few locks of hair out of place, and a thin layer of sweat across his forehead. Hunter had jumped aside when his daddy had returned and almost squished him under his feet, too frazzled to even notice anything except his père. Hed sat down at the edge of the bed, and hed rubbed a damp, steaming cloth over his throat and face. A frown had pulled his lips down when his père softly coughed, a weak spasm from his throat that made his père look pained. After he spooned the medicine onto his tongue and held up the glass for him to drink from, things that soothed the sour look on his face, his daddy had crawled onto the bed and bundled his père against his warm chest. Within minutes, the shivers had resided, and as his daddy tenderly stroked his hair and back, his père was lulled into a deep and serene sleep. By morning, the fever, like Hunters, had broken, but his père was still restricted to the bed by his daddys pleas. Unlike Hunter, though, his père seemed to have no problem with lounging in bed all day and getting the occasional foot rub.

Hunter knew that his parents were very dear to each other, and that they meant the world and more to one another. They had a playful and romantic relationship, teasing each other, and kissing each other, and laughing with each other. From the time that Hunter was a baby, hed lived in a peaceful home where there was no fighting. All the noises that he could remember were mostly from his père because he was the chattier of the two, but he also remembered his daddys snorting at what his père was saying. And when they were upset about something, they never exposed it to their children, but instead spoke softly to each other in privacy. Hunter knew that there was no greater love than that which was shared between his parents. They had the love of a storybook, and all Hunter could do was hope that one day he would have that same passionate love, but now that he was stuck in this home, there was no one for him to love.

As his thoughts circled back to Karofsky, he opened his eyes that he hadnt realized hed closed. He took a deep breath, and then another, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He was the only one who could hold him anymore. Hunter had spent several days trying to figure things out, but he was done wasting his thoughts on Karofsky. It took too much effort to try to decode him, and most of the time he didnt discover much except that thinking about such a horrible man made his head pound with sorrow and fury and guilt. It was time for him to step back from Karofsky and think about his parents, the only hope he had in this dreary home. His parents wouldnt have caved like this, would have still had the urge to fight. Hunter felt like a thick fog was hovering over and around him, blinding him from any means of escaping. He knew that his parents had relied on each other to supply in the areas that they were weak, his père depending on his daddy to use his brute force to protect him from the physical, and his daddy needing the wit of his père to save him from the overwhelming exertion that awful thoughts put his straining mind through. Hunter needed both to get him through this, so he turned to Archer, who, although had frequently changing emotions that made Hunter think him a loon, was both keen like their père and tough like their daddy.

Karofsky had gone to work before Hunter had even risen from bed, and he needed to use whatever time he had left before Karofsky returned. His schedule seemed to change day by day, sometimes going out early and returning by afternoon, and sometimes leaving at evening and coming back late in the night. Hunter didnt know when Karofsky would be back that day, but he still had to try, even if it got him nowhere but tied to the bed again. This time Hunter wouldnt waste any time by walking down the stairs and trying the front door, which Karofsky usually locked, depending if he simply forgot or not. Hunter had to be fast about however he was going to leave, and his eyes instantly flicked over to the window. It was a way that he hadnt tried before, and he had to go through all of his options before he considered giving up. Going over to that window which Hunter didnt spend very much of his time by because he remembered what Karofsky had done to him the first time he went over to it, Hunter pulled aside that heavy curtain, ignoring the dust that coated his brown fingers in gray.

Hunter pressed his face against the dark glass, his eyes flicking down to a thin piece of roof that stuck out just a few inches from the wall. If he somehow managed to land on that, he would slide off and fall to the ground, which looked very far away from where he was. As he looked down at the thing that would probably kill him, he turned his head over his shoulder and thought about the thing that would definitely kill him. His options seemed limited. He inhaled sharply as he shoved on the window, getting it to open with a noisy creak after a few pushes. It slammed shut again because there was nothing to hold it open except a broken latch, so he had to hold it up as he cautiously moved closer to the sharp metal that kept the window closed. He moved one leg over the metal and sat down on it, wincing as it cut into his bottom. He wished his daddy was just outside the window, waiting to pick him up and carry him safely to the ground. But there was nothing but a small slab of roof and the grass.

Sliding his hand down the window, he grabbed onto the metal, and he hoisted himself the rest of the way out. As he heaved his body outside, his leg caught on the metal, and he lost his grip on it in his attempt to not snap his leg in half. The window swung down as his body was pulled to the ground, and it smacked on the fingers that were holding onto it. Hunter cried out in pain, his feet kicking desperately in his attempt to catch himself on something. His fingers slid off of the glass and Hunter realized, as he dangled forty feet above the ground, that he was going to fall. Tears burst into the corners of his eyes because, if he was dead, he would never see his parents or his Archer again. His breath was knocked out of him as he was limply held up by one numb hand, and then it rushed back into his lungs when he finally let go of the window. Hunter closed his eyes, knowing that the next thing he would feel would be a crash to the hard ground, and he did fall on something, but it wasnt scratchy like he expected the grass to be.

His back throbbed at the sudden burst of pain from smacking something, and he sobbed again, wondering what had happened to him when hed landed on something that felt like a thousand needles shooting up through his skin. Moving his tingling hands, Hunter checked himself over, and he gasped at the sight of blood that smothered his dark skin. Turning his neck to the right, he frowned because he had made it to that slab of roof. Even though his entire body stung, he forced himself to sit up, and he felt a rush of cold hit his skin, what must have been the seeping blood cooling down as it dried onto him. He must have looked so awful. In his attempt to see the ground below, he slid over to the edge of the little roof that he was sitting on, and he shrieked because he didnt want to fall again. Curling his fingers around the edge so he could keep his balance, Hunter looked down at the grass, which was still about ten feet down. Maybe he could jump down this time.

He pushed himself up to his knees, which throbbed at the weight on them, so he knew they must have been bruised in his first fall. Unsteadily standing on rocky feet, Hunter leaned forward and closed his eyes, not wanting to talk himself out of this. If he did, he would be stuck up here, and then Karofsky would find him, and in his punishment, hed have horrible things done to him. He blew out, and then he breathed in, and he kicked his feet off of the roof. What felt like a very long time passed before Hunter finally hit the ground, landing again on his knees, which seemed to burst at the pressure. He collapsed onto his chest, which sporadically heaved for air to fill his crushed lungs. His body was so broken that he could hardly crawl a few inches, but he made himself move forward on his hands and knees because he heard the crunching gravel that always meant that Karofsky was home. He couldnt be seen, so Hunter desperately clawed at the ground, dragging himself away.

He was inches from a few trees that could hide him when he heard a car door slam, and the tears startled rolling down his cheeks. Footsteps clapped against the sidewalk, and he realized that he wasnt going to make it when, second by second, they clunked against the ground with an even quicker beat. "Hunter?" A deep voice yelled, and grass nearby him crunched. Hunter finally dropped to the ground, knowing that he hadnt made it again. Shuddering even though he wasnt cold, Hunter pulled his aching legs to his chest, feeling a heavy hand snatch the back of his shirt. He was ripped up from his safe place on the ground, and a hand whacked him across the cheek. "How could you?" The voice screamed in his smarting ears, making him flinch back. "I told you I loved you! I have to keep you!"

Hunters head lolled, his eyes vaguely watching the ground move under him as Karofsky thundered into the house. His footsteps echoed around him, each one louder than the last. Hunter wondered when it would be over. He just wanted to go home already. "I cant have you running away anymore." Karofsky babbled, even though Hunter wasnt really listening to him. All he heard was the noise that a bag of nails made when it was shaken. "Do you realize what Ive done for you? Where would you go without me? You need me!"

Hunter thought it was the other way around, but he didnt tell him so. Hearing a door slam, Hunter tried to lift his head, and his eyes widened at the sight of the kitchen. Worried that Karofsky would take a knife and try to stab him, he finally made his move and jerked away, but Karofsky didnt walk over to the drawer with the knives. He turned the other way. "Please!" Hunter cried through a meek voice, "Please! No! Dont hurt me!" Hunter couldnt take it anymore, and even though he didnt know what could be worse than being stabbed with a knife-besides falling out of a window, he was afraid of what Karofsky was coming up with. Hearing something click behind him, Hunter squirmed to see what Karofsky was doing, and a silent scream ripped out of him when he saw Karofsky flipping switches on the stove.

Hunter hit Karofsky with all the strength in his thin arms, which did nothing except make him angrier, and he screamed until he had no voice left. But it was like he was invisible. And hidden, even from Karofsky. Karofsky pulled the oven door open, letting out a blast of heat that almost singed Hunters eyelashes. "Youre going to learn to be mine!" Karofsky roared at him, "You cant leave me, Hunter! You cant! Ill hide you!" His body was thrown into the stove so easily that he felt like a ragdoll, and like a ragdoll, he instantly turned to flames. Karofsky closed the door behind him and walked away, leaving Hunter inside the burning box. Screaming at the unbearable heat that scalded his skin, Hunter tried to move this way and that, but his legs stuck to the metal on the bottom. He realized that his skin was like glue, and if he was to get out, he would have to rip it off.

Smacking the glass wall of the stove, Hunter stared out at the dim kitchen, where nothing was going on, as if a psychotic man wasnt torturing a child within this room. He realized that this was going to kill him. He was either going to suffocate because of the smoke his own body let off as he was scorched, or his body was going to burn to ashes. Screaming again, Hunter wondered if Karofsky could hear his helpless cries. He wondered what he was thinking about. But then he gave up on Karofsky when he realized that thinking about him wasnt going to save him, and he turned his thoughts to his parents, to his uncle, to his Archer. And the last thing he saw before a red flame shot out and hit his face, making everything go black, was the first smile Archer had ever given him, when he wasnt hidden.