The woman shivers as a breath of wind shifts the atmosphere. Her dishevelled hair drifts and drags. A chill slithers down her spine and makes her arms tingle. But she doesn't rub them to keep them warm, nor does she try to shut out the cold. She welcomes it.

How long has it been since she'd last felt a cool winter breeze? She answers her thoughts immediately. Two years. It has been two years since she had felt cold.

The woman glances at her arms. She still bears the scars of sun burns, plastered against her skin as that which have died flakes off into the air. Two years. Two years the woman had spent moving, surviving under scorching, unbearable heat. But she hadn't been alone. Her daughter was with her every step of the way.

The woman now lifts her head to see her daughter, who sits on her knees a few paces away, searching with wide eyes for constellations in the night. She was only three when they were forced to flee their city. She was only a child when the sun unleashed its fury, when she watched her father's skin dripping from his body and his eyes melting in their sockets.

The sun flares hit when nobody expected them. Scientists soon discovered what was about to come, but it was too late to warn 6 billion people. The world began to burn only minutes after, but the suffering lasted for months. People burned and baked, their bodies melting. Cities and houses were incinerated. Environments and animals were wiped out in an instant. Half the population had died within a few days. The destruction was unfathomable, too immense to explain.

But against the odds the woman and her daughter survived. For a year the pair wandered, afraid and hopeless, yet determined to live. And when they were evacuated to a settlement in Alaska, hope and security started to return.

A voice breaks through her thoughts. "Mum, look! It's the scorpion, up there between the pine trees."

The memories crack and shatter. The woman blinks, focuses on her daughter. She's standing now, pointing into the sky. The woman crawls forward to kneel next to her daughter.

"Where, honey?" For a moment all she sees is an endless abyss of stars, but then she blinks again and stars come alive with constellations. "Oh, I see it now. Great spotting!"

The girl grins and slaps her mother's palm to complete the high-five. "I saw Orion before, Mum. He's...over there!" She turns and points, following his belt, outlining his bow and his arm pulling back the arrow.

The woman smiles adoringly at her daughter. Ever since they arrived in the settlement, she decided to pass the time by sharing her knowledge of the constellations with her. Her daughter embraced it, turning it into a new obsession. The woman had once watched her name eight constellations in a row.

"What about Cassiopeia?" the woman asks. "Can you see her?"

The girl frowns. "Hmm. I don't know. I've only seen her once, but that was when you showed me..."

"Well, if you turn a little to right you can see her. It's not too hard-see the jagged line? That's her, sitting in a chair and admiring herself in her mirror."

"Oh yeah! I always get stuck on Cassi...Cassio..."

The woman giggles. "Cass-ee-o-pie-ah," she says slowly, and her daughter's mouth turns into a big O in realisation.

The woman suddenly glances at her watch. "Oh, wow, it's nearly 10 o'clock!" she says. "Well, we better get to bed, huh? Pax will have us up and working by six tomorrow." As she helps her daughter up, she frowns at the thought of old Pax, the man who assumed leadership of the settlement after government workers never showed up. He always made sure each day was a struggle, but it was all for a good cause. If discipline didn't exist, the settlement would collapse within a week.

The pair make their way over a grassy mound, weaving around the pines and avoiding spider webs here and there. Soon the settlement comes into view, a ramshackle collection of huts and houses grouped together like a herd of cattle. The main hall stands towards the back, and a few campfires flicker here and there. Despite a few people milling around, the settlement is empty, most having gone to bed already.

A jolt passes through the woman's body, and she halts in the grass, hauling her daughter back to her side. She has no idea how, but suddenly she feels a deep sense of dread. She stares at the settlement, and has a feeling that soon it will be reduced to chaos, somehow in some way.

The woman drops to a crouch to meet her daughter's eyes. She swallows, unsure what's happening but knows she needs to speak. "Honey, I need to tell you something," she says gently. "Everything...everything may seem happy and safe right now, and it is, but someday all this may go away. I'm not sure we can live here forever, but if anything...bad or scary ever happens, and I'm not there-"

"Mum, what...I'm scared. What are you talking about? Where are you going?" the girl interrupts. Tears are already welling her eyes.

The woman draws her daughter in, hugging her tight. "Don't be, honey," she whispers in her hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I know you're going to be a brave girl, and you're brave already. But if something goes wrong and I'm not there, just know that I'll always be here, in your heart and in your memory."

The woman pulls back, and sees that her daughter has wiped away her tears. She smiles then, out of sadness but also pride for her daughter. She is already courageous. "Darling, if you're ever on your own, remember this. Look up at the stars at night, and remember what I'm telling you now. Look at the stars and know that I'll always be with you, no matter what. I'll always be with you."

The girl nods, her dark hair bouncing in its ponytail. "I love you, Mum," she whispers.

"I love you, too, Ivory."

The woman embraces her daughter one last time, and together they turn and head towards the settlement, to their home. But it will be another two years before their happiness is shattered.

The Flare will come.

Madness will erupt.

People will be reduced to monsters.