I woke up to the sound of women screaming, men yelling, and many people crying. I ran to the door, still in my nightgown, and opened it quietly. Flames were already licking the tapestries at the end of the hall. At five I wasn't thinking rational thoughts like 'why didn't anyone wake me?' Or 'why is the manor on fire?' Instead I was thinking of how pretty the flames framed the face of the lady on the tapestry. I stared at it until the heat and smoke became too much. Then I left, running down servants' passages, down long hallways, and out into the grounds before exiting through the west gate. I must have sat in the old pear tree for a week before the house actually stopped burning. No one came looking for me. I never sought anyone out either. I had no one to look for; my mother and father had never been there. The closest thing I had to a parent was the cooks-ma'am. An old haggard shrew with a fancy for beatings. I came down from the tree at last, wondering what was next. Where would I go? What would I find? I had run through the woods for at least a week before stumbling upon men. Hunters, from the bags they carried, but they also carried swords, which was an unusual things for hunters I was at least smart enough to realize that. It took them a few minutes to notice I was there. A man of the name Walter took my appearance in. In reality I must have looked like a scepter, a creature that can take form and mimic any person. A small torn up girl wandering around the wood alone was weird and I fit some scepter's profile pretty well. Walter approached me cautiously, treading on the felled leaves.

"Hello," he offered, receiving a blank stare from me.

"What is your name?" He had a thick Gren accent, dark hair and a beard, but what struck me most were his startling blue eyes. They looked like the top of the sky if you stare at it in the mid-morning. For that reason alone I trusted him.

"Abri," I answered, fright entering my voice.