Maroon, burgundy, sangoir, crimson, scarlet, carmine, carnelian...
Shade by shade, the burning haze faded until it only tinted his view of the world instead of painting it. Blood and fire were nothing compared to the reds of fear and pain.
His breath returned with a starved gasp as his eyes came into focus on the view of his sister, several feet from where he had expected to find her. Her hair was disheveled and her uniform askew, but she was both alive and mobile, pushing herself up to a seated position. She stared around in a daze—along with everyone else who had expected to witness her collision with the post.
Had his vision betrayed him? Had she never been on a collision course, after all? She had sailed past to the left of it, and distance had saved both her and the photographer sh
