Azior had not expected to wake up to fire, much less to Durzol lifting him off the bed and away from the danger. No one in his short life had cared enough. Those thoughts bit deep. He tried to remember what had scared him so as Durzol carried him from the Inn. He winced as the icy cold rain bit into his flesh. He huddled in the back of the wagon where it was dry and the warmth of his body rushed back to normal. Azior  watched as Durzol left him with the supplies to go and fight the fire that he had started. Azior felt a mixture of guilt and pride. He felt guilty for almost burning down his home, but could not remember what had caused this to happen. Azior felt pride as he watched the courage that his father showed in the face of an emergency.<br/><br/>For a long while he sat and wondered what was happening within the Inn. He remembered, the armor and weapons that his father had set aside for him. He quickly found them and put them on over his bed clothes. However, what truly worried him was that Durzol had yet to return. Deciding it would be safer to be closer to Durzol, and frightened of the strangers  who began to fill the streets. Drawn no doubt by the commotion earlier in the pre-dawn. The growls and snarls of the wolves guarding the wagon and supplies filled his ears. Azior left the wagon and headed back to the Inn. Intent to find Durzol. He headed up the stairs back to his room.  His small hand closed tightly around the Kurki he held.<br/><br/>He found Durzol in the ruins of his room. He walked up to Durzol and threw his arms around him. "You saved me," he whispers. "There are creepy people outside and I do not like them," he adds as he releases Durzol and steps back gazing up at him.