The wind was stirring. It wound it's path between trees and across the open plains of a beautiful meadow, it brought with it a strong scent of baking bread and a smoldering fire.
A girl sat cross legged in the centre of this meadow with her eyes closed on her pale white face. A dusting of freckles lay over her nose and cheek bones, her plump red lips stood prominant pulling the focus of many that would lay their gaze upon her. Her features were raised to the miday sun with the light reflecting off her fiery red hair as it moved with the wind.
This girl went by the name of Aletha Prewett, she classed herself as a normal teenage girl, though in actual fact she was anything but.
As the wind shifted, Aletha reached down to her left side picking up a long crisp white staff, her eyes shot open and she sprang to her feet in a fighting stance. About five seconds later a figure stepped out from the trees directly in front of her, hands raised in a sign of truce. Aletha lowered her staff and smiled slightly.
The figure was that of a young man. He was tall with a similar shade of red hair to that of Aletha's, you could see how his muscles melded into one another just by glancing at him and his strong will could be seen through his striking violet eyes.