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[@T Risket][@PrinceAlexus][@SolusFalcon][@baraquiel][@MissCapnCrunch][@Simple Unicycle][@Typhon][@Inkarnate][/center]

While everyone was at the mayor's place partying and the streets were empty, one figure walked through the night, barely making a sound as they moved. On more then one occasion, they stumbled as they walked, even falling over once or twice. Each time though, she slowly got to their feet and kept on walking. If anyone was around to see the figure, they might have describe their behavior as almost zombie-like. Moving more on instinct then having any particular goal.

Thankfully, no one was around to stop the small figure from reaching their goal. It had been a whole week since they had fled from the city into the country side. A week of following voices and dreams, the kind of things only madmen might think real and follow. But they knew the dreams and voices were real. It might've been blind faith but they knew it for certain that they were not fake, but messages of hope. So they had walked, and walked, and walked some more. And now, they said the figure was almost to the end of this part of their journey.

Eventually the figure reached the mayor's house and stumbled into the party, the arrivals met by a one last message from the voices:

[i][color=f49ac2]Rest[/color], [color=fff200]young[/color] [color=f26522]one[/color]. [color=00aeef]You've[/color] [color=f49ac2]made[/color] [color=fff200]it[/color].[/i]

Needing no more encouragement, the figure passed out on the spot. Any who noticed and possibly came to investigate would find a young girl, probably early into her pre-teen years, possessing pale blond hair and just as pale skin. She was wearing a simple white t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of sandals on her feet, though like the girl herself, they were a mess. Torn in several places, covered in dirt, and generally looking like she had been trekking through the woods for several days.

Should anyone feel the girl's forehead, they would find it dangerously hot.