A chorus of noisy screams echo throughout the chaotic night. In one particular house, in one particular bed, one certain young child flings his bed sheet off. Dashing to a tiny barricaded window, the boy looks into the dimly lit streets. A parade of metal clad warriors stride through the poverty-ridden village. Noises drift ups the stairs and into the boy's ears. He tip-toes to his best friend's bed, waking the girl up. "Kala... Kala!"
The little girl groggily wakes up, stretching. "What?" "They're here! It's time!" The boy rushes back over to his bed, reaching under it, and pulling out an old, beat-up backpack. Wide-eyed, the young female sticks her head under her bed, also tugging out a backpack. Pulling it on, she braids her long, dark hair to the side. "Let's go, bro." The boy trails behind her, sneaking down the rickety staircase. They pass the mistress's room quietly. "In here!" The two hear the voice of a soldier right outside the front door.
"To the window!" The little man whisper-shouts, pointing to a window mere feet from them. Suddenly, something grasps the twin's shoulders. Gasping, the two hesitantly turn around, seeing their mistress, Helena. "What do you two think you're doing?" The woman's eyebrow rising. The twins exchange a look, then glance at Helena. "They're here." That being said, the two leap out of the window, leaving the orphanage to fend for itself against the siege.
