A loan figure glided over the snow. She wore a pair of baggy pants and a short sleeved cotton shirt, all white, and she had a white fur coat drapped over one arm. Her long silvery hair was pulled back in a braid and her frosty white skin blended perfactly with the snow. It was well past midnight and the full moon was shining down on the snow causing it to shimmer and glow. The woman smiled. It was truly beautiful.
Her bare feet landed lightly on the snow, but left no footprints, no indictation that any life had tred upon it. Even better, she thought. That would make it impossible to track her. And that was exactly what she wanted. The Wanderer, the Hidden, the Forgotten; all of those titles were hers for the taking. After all they fit her story so well.
"So where will you go now?" A deep voice said from behind her.
"I think I will go to Avenath. It is a big city, easy to get lost in. It will be perfact," the woman said without even turning around.
The man nodded. "Be careful, Sharn. There are many dangers in Avenath."
Sharn turned to look at the man who had saved her time and time again. He was tall and Sharn knew that under his hood was a handsom face. She could almost see his dark eyes, so thoughtful, so knowing, and so sad.
"Nico," she said at last, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
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