Jane has always been naughtier than I. I remember when we spent all the day stealing fruits and chasing dogs and hens around the square. Jane has always been the fastest, running away with her freckles and her fluttering red hair, and I was always the one who received the beating. At heart, we were just having fun, a game. But that day... that day was really scary. It was getting dark when we saw one of the oldest house of the town lighted by the fire of a candle. There was no sound, there was nothing, only the smoke. Then we saw the pile of rubble at the foot of a linden tree. The light coming through the window created strange shapes, that moved and danced on the leaves of the tree. We had fear, curiosity and desire to play, at the same time. I was trembling but Jane continued with her laughter of bells, always smiling, in another way to express her nerves. What happened next was a matter of seconds: stones. The window. The glass. The candle. The odd smoke. The dark figure with the hump. The threatening shouts. Her fluttering hair.