It had been a terrible moment for the quorn. He knew he must not run after Sue-Marie, or call out to her. The code forbade it. He was not permitted to save himself either. That was the rule which all quorns obeyed. Humans must never know they were alive, or had thoughts - or feelings.
But that night, as he lay on the floor of the bedroom, and the dark, acrid smoke came lower, he decided to break the rules. He climbed onto the bed, and then jumped across to the dresser by the window. From there he was able to grab the curtain and swing over to the glass. The window was open a crack. He hooked his fingers under the edge and lifted it further then he looked around. No-one was there to see him. Flames were beginning to lick through the wall directly behind. He would have to jump outwards as far as possible, to avoid the rose bushes.
And when the fire had finished, the homestead was a black mass of charred wood and drifting smoke. The roof lay on top of the floor, like a covering, to hide the awful sight. The chimneys stuck straight up into the grey sky, like defiant fingers. Silently, a crowd that had gathered turned away and walked down the hill.
But that was then.