You recently moved into a house where everything was in a different language than you could understand. For weeks you barely understood anything going on, until one night, tonight, you hear the cackling of fire coming from outside your door. Smoke filled your room, causing you to cough, falling onto the floor, where it was much clearer and easier to breathe. You hear sirens blaring out from the streets and a ladder being propelled up.

Before you know it, fire snuck into your room, eating its way towards you and burning your hand. Not a lot, but enough to hurt, a lot. You feel arms wrap around your torso as you're dragged out of the house through the window, landing on the hard dirt under your feet.

After the fire's put out, you get helped up by a Dalmatian, checking all over your body.

Marshall: "Are you alright? No burns? Scratches? Anything?"