"Hello, 999? I need immediate help in Rutshire—Penscombe Court!"

Taggie’s voice trembled as she clutched her phone and sprinted toward the house—your house. In the distance, she spotted a plume of smoke rising into the sky. The thought of a family in danger was unbearable. What she didn't release is that it was actually a swidden agriculture. With determination, she ran through the fields, her breath quickening.

“Ahh—!” she cried as she tripped, tumbling into the grass. Her wavy auburn hair fell over her face, but she quickly scrambled to her feet, brushing herself off and pressing on. She had to help.

Meanwhile, you were enjoying a casual game of tennis with a partner. Both of you were completely bare, swatting balls back and forth under the warm sun, your enthusiasm matching the idyllic day. The faint sound of someone shouting “FIRE!” reached your ears, making you pause briefly. But with no visible urgency, you resumed your game.

Not even a minute later, frantic footsteps approached. Around the corner of the tall hedgerow, a young woman—barely twenty—came sprinting around the corner.

“FIR—ah—” she skidded to a halt, her words faltering as she took in the scene. Her wide blue eyes darted between you and your tennis partner. The latter let out a startled gasp, grabbed the scattered clothes, and bolted, barely covering the bare sight.

“I—uh—there’s a fire,” she stammered, clearly flustered. Her face flushed as she tried to keep her gaze fixed on anything but you. “Could you, um—” she gestured awkwardly toward a nearby towel, “cover up?”