Crow had spent enough time in the main circus tent to know, at least to some degree, how most of the acts worked and that included the trapeze -- especially the trapeze, actually, considering Snow loved every moment in the air and enjoyed talking about it, but Crow had never even considered trying a stunt like that himself. Now, though, he didn't even hesitate. The platform they used to climb up to the top of the tent was still standing, for now, and once he had torn himself free from the initial shock of the horrific sight above him, he broke into a run and headed straight for that platform. The fire was spreading and the smoke was getting thicker -- though slowly since most of the tent was not yet on fire -- but it didn't matter. If he died, he died. Leaving his brother to perish while he saved himself was never going to be an option.

'He might already be dead. You're saving nothing more than a body.' His mind whispered to him, over and over again until it grew into a panicked scream in his head. But he didn't stop. If it was nothing more than a body he would be saving and his brother was truly gone, then let the flames take them both and let the circus be damned.

Crow paused at the ladder and tested the first few rungs for stability before putting his full weight on it and pulling himself up, rung after rung and step after step just as fast as he could force his body to go. But halfway up he had to pause again, this time not because he wanted to, and he cursed the smoke that was starting to force him to slow. Smoke be damned too; he would not stop. The sight of Snow still dangling upside-down, still not moving, gave him the energy needed to push forward and reach the platform.

That was the easy part.

Crow reached for one of the trapeze hoops that was hooked to the side of the platform and, unhooking it, tested it gingerly with a few strong pulls. The tent was still holding and still stable, but he knew it could give out and collapse any moment and that the base upon which the trapeze was set up would collapse with the rest of it. And that meant he didn't have much time. Standing as stable as he could manage on the hoop, Crow gritted his teeth and shoved off into the open air.

For a moment, he felt his lungs and eyes clear with the movement since the smoke wasn't too severe this high up yet and he gasped at the sudden feeling -- a mistake that caused him to inhale everything right back in and he choked, nearly losing his balance on the hoop. He grasped the side of it to steady himself and, after a few swings back and forth, brought the hoop to a near standstill next to Snow. It continued to move whenever he moved, however, and he had to remember not to look down.

There was no time to check a pulse on his brother and even if he had, Crow wouldn't have trusted his own judgment right now. Snow was coming down with him, dead or alive.

Leaning forward, Crow took hold of the side of the hoop that Snow was dangling from and pulled it as close to him as he could manage, hooking his leg in it to steady it before he jumped from his hoop to the one Snow was in. It wobbled precariously under their combined weight. Still, it wasn't like he had a choice -- Crow didn't have enough balance to stand on one hoop while using both arms to cut his brother's leg free. This was hard enough as it was. He had to lean down to drape the part of Snow that wasn't trapped in the wire over his shoulder to support his brother's body weight, and then he reached up to cut the wire holding his leg in place so that when he cut him free, Snow wouldn't fall right to the ground. Luckily, cutting the leg loose was the easiest part so far and within a few moments -- though they felt like hours -- Snow was free.

Now he just had to get back to the platform. And when he looked down -- a sight that made his stomach churn -- he saw flames beginning to lick at the bottom of the wood. There wasn't much time now.

Gently at first, then picking up speed, Crow used their weight to swing the hoop back and forth, building up momentum so he could reach the platform. And then?

"Damn," he muttered, the frown lines increasing in his forehead. He'd have to jump.

The first time he tried, he pulled back at the last minute, worried that he needed still more momentum to make the jump. The second time he hadn't much of a choice. The flames were growing ever stronger and soon not even the gashes in the side of the tent that were letting some of the smoke out would be enough to keep them from dying from inhaling it, if the fire didn't get to them first.

So, he jumped.

At first, he teetered on the edge of the platform, forward and back, forward and back, but he forced the weight of his upper body forward and the weight of Snow's body with it, and at last he found himself steady on his own two feet again.

Safe.

But for how long?

Crow didn't stop to catch his breath and went straight for the ladder, climbing down using one arm while the other kept Snow from falling off his shoulder. The flames danced around his legs as he reached the bottom rungs and he jumped off the ladder several rungs up, over the flames as much as he could, and landed hard, though he caught himself from falling. Still, he didn't stop. He ran back to the nearest opening in the tent -- the one he had opened himself earlier. It was a little harder to get two of them out since the hole had been barely big enough for Crow himself, so he pushed Snow first then went out himself where he promptly collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Smoke was rising in the air all around them but the air felt fresh and clean after what was in the tent, like a cool drink of spring water on a hot summer day. Crow felt for a moment that he ought to just stay; to close his eyes and let the gentle breeze lull him to sleep. The shouting around him felt distant and the threat of the Wyvern seemed so far away. But there was still fear in him, and this fear didn't feel distant at all. So he forced himself up onto his elbows and crawled across to Snow, who was lying face down on the grass. Crow rolled him over.

Blood was streaked across his face and his white skin and clothing was stained grey with ash. His mouth was slightly open and when Crow put his hand in front of his brother's face, he felt no breath. Perhaps it was just too slight to feel. There was no pulse. Perhaps it was only too faint right now and it would certainly grow stronger with cool air. There was no heartbeat. Perhaps...

Perhaps... what?

The dread that had been resting in the pit of his stomach for so long, suppressed and ignored, now gripped his heart with a stony grasp. Crow couldn't breathe.

No...

His brother couldn't be dead. It was just an illusion, a mistake. With trembling hands that were weakened from too much exertion, Crow tore open the front of Snow's shirt. There had to be a heartbeat there. He would feel it now. Yes, it would be there. It had to be there. Yet when he placed his hand on his brother's pale chest, all he felt was cold. Heat surrounded them on all sides but Snow was cold as ice.

"No," The word slipped out of him unbidden. "No, Snow, no, no, come on. Come on! Open your eyes. See, Snow, look up! There is the sun there, and you can feel the grass now. It rained last night and there is dew on the ground here -- see! The fire hasn't touched it yet. You're free now and there are so many things I want to show you, you have to wake up, Snow, you have to."

Crow pulled his brother's body into his lap, cradling the white head in his hands as gently as one would hold a baby and continued speaking, babbling on and on about anything that came to his mind. Two small figures, lost and forgotten amidst the burning tents.