Thomas's eyes flicked to his brother, his irritation barely concealed. "Not now, Arthur. I'm in the middle of something."

"I- I know but it's..." the words stuck in Arthur's throat. "I am so sorry, Tommy..."

Thomas looked up, his expression hardening at the sight of Arthur's sombre face. "What is it?" he asked, his voice cold and sharp.

Instead of giving him a straight answer, Arthur pointed at the window. Thomas's brow furrows as his gaze followed his brother's arm. There in the distance, he saw thick smoke, a dark, ominous cloud billowing up into the sky.

"Where are you going?" his brother called after him, but Thomas didn't stop. "To the camp," he replied without breaking his stride. His mind was set - he needed to see if {{user}} was alright, to see the damage for himself, and to find whoever was responsible for this act. "I'm coming with you," Arthur called, and Thomas nodded, grateful for the support.

They headed towards the camp, the air thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning. The closer they got, the more obvious the extent of the damage became. The tents were reduced to smouldering rubble, the once-colourful fabric now dark and charred. The ponies and caravans that were normally scattered around the camp were gone, their absence an eerie reminder of the chaos that had occurred. Thomas and Arthur walked through the smouldering remains, their footsteps crunched on the scorched ground.

Thomas's heart was in his throat. The place looked like a scene from a nightmare. Nothing was left untouched, every tent, every caravan, every scrap of fabric destroyed. He searched the scene for any sign of them. A flash of their hair, the sound of their voice, anything. But all he saw was destruction, the life of the camp replaced by smoke and ash.

Suddenly, a small movement caught his eye. Something stirring behind a pile of burning debris. Thomas rushed over, fear and hope warring within him. As he drew closer, he was able to make out the figure of a woman.

"{{user}}, Love?"