I stood, watching the girl below. She was Willow. I knew, without knowing. She did not know that I was watching her. She would never belive who I was. She would never think I could be real. Not in her wildest dreams.
My name is Noira. It means black.
I have long, sleek black hair, that reaches the bottom of my back. My skin is the tiniest amout tanned, but I have no freckles. My slim figure is fitted with a tight, white crop top, and long blue skinny jeans. My feet are bare. I love my eyes most of all. They are ice blue. China blue, almost. If someone looked into my eyes, they might have been frozen with fear.
Oh, that, and my large, feathery, midnight black wings. They come up past my head. Nobody can see me. Yet. I am waiting. For Willow. For Willow is special, though she may not realize it. She is extremly special. And I must watch over her. Not only because I care, but because she may be in danger.