She was dreaming. Dreaming, again. She smiled to herself. She knew this was a dream, because there was no way she could be in this house when it had burned down years ago. She was painting in her old room, painting her horse. She had just finished the black streak that marked her horse for who it was. A Camarillo white horse with a strange black streak running down one cheek. She liked this dream. It was so peaceful, so qui-
She woke up. She knew it wouldn't last long. Good dreams never did. But she certainly did not expect waking up to this. It seemed as if everyone was waking up at once. And they were all looking in confusion at Vera, who was already awake. How did she wake up before any of the rest of them did?
That was besides the point. There were so many injuries. How were any of them ever going to explain this? Fire licked the edges of the meteorite, where Vera was standing. Vera seemed to be fine, other than a few scratches and cuts. But she was the closest to it. None of this made sense, and Emily would give anything to go back to sleep and wake up in her bed at home.
It was chaos, everyone's wild eyes searching the sky, wondering how on earth they could have missed it.