Miranda felt something brush across the surface of her lips. like fingertips were trailing their way across the shape of them. She knew the feeling well, for it happened often, and couldn't help the faint smile that crossed them. It was odd, she shouldn't have felt like this. It was nothing, no one was in front of her. No one to brush their fingers across her lips, no one to smile and whisper her name. No one to brush her hair out of her eyes and give her that sweet kiss like in all those romantic movies. So there was no reason for her to get so worked up about it.

He stood there, watching her without being seen. She was so close, yet so far away. He could gently trail the tips of his fingers across the surface of her lips. He knew that she felt the small gesture from the small smile that graced them. Why he tortured himself like this was a mystery, even to him. She was like forbidden land, untouchable. She couldn't know about his people, they'd worked so hard to stay hidden. "Miranda," he whispered, the name was familiar on his tongue as he released the unknown name into the wind.

Miranda turned around when she heard the whisper of her name. Once again, there was no one. She sighed, defeated, and made her way back. "It happens every time!" she sighed, sweeping her red hair over her shoulder. She could feel the crunch of sticks and dried leaves beneath every step. Miranda stopped to catch her breath before leaning up against one of the tall Maple trees. Something was wrong, something was different. Because someone was here.

He was almost six feet tall, five-eleven at least. He had auburn hair and his eyes were a dark shade of violet. His outfit, a shirt and pants, were all made of shades of dark greens. While his boots were black. But enough about his clothing, the problem wasn't him it was what he was and who he was in front of.

Miranda heard the wind whistle loudly and the rustling of leaves beneath someone or something's feet.