So I must have been four when all of this happened, not old enough to form lasting memories. Through one of the walls collapsed from the attack more than a decade ago, comes a gust of icy wind with an astringent pine fragrance. It is the aroma accompanied by the cold that awakens another memory in me; Wasn't it Rogers' favorite story, every time Jason got me in trouble, reminding me of how he had saved me from freezing in a forest after being abandoned by my family? And I remembered the cold that seeped into my bones, how the tears froze on my face when I cried, calling for someone long forgotten. I always believed him without question, but I had never understood those other memories; of fire and deafening screams, of panic and how I must have run, how they all ran until I had ended up los
