"Space debris," as Winters had referred to it, was hardly a fitting description. Amie had never seen anything like it. It was void of any distinct features, yet it was carefully machined to resemble a triangular pyramid of sorts, though a bit longer and apparently controlled from the inside, as indicated by a large hole in the side that displayed some form of cockpit. She moved cautiously, hand hovering by the hilt of her sword, scanning it for any form of threat. Nothing presented itself. Whoever had occupied it was no longer present. And yet she was not without company. The young lady from the forest was here, along with a young fellow. They both seemed decent enough, though not enough to convince Amie to withdraw her hand.

The young lady was waving the other two to a nearby disturbance in the landscape. 

[i]"Hello? Search party is here for survivors of the crashed ship!"[/i]

Amie twisted around, checking every angle for an immediate response. The hair on her neck stood up as she considered how much danger the three of them were currently in. She grasped the sheath with her left hand and wrapped the fingers of the other gently around the handle, sliding her feet apart into a traditional combat stance in preparation for a strike. It had been ages since Amie had engaged in an actual, literal sword fight. The snobby aristocrat, whose butler carried her luggage, had been replaced by a fierce young swordswoman, edging her way towards the other woman and listening keenly for an excuse to draw steel.