She looked around fifteen, with long blond hair tied back in a messy knot. She wore a gray stained jacket and patched-up jeans, a tattered scarf hanging loosely around her neck, and, strangely, appeared to have no weapons on her. She was barefoot, but didn’t seem to mind the cold. Her stance, to Ash’s surprise, was not one of defense or attack, but rather nonchalant and indifferent, as if the thought that Ash might be an enemy had never entered her mind. Her gray-blue eyes surveyed Ash slowly, not the slightest bit of fear or anxiety showing. Ash stood still, confused and curious at the same time. The girl stared at her with mild interest, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. A streak of blue ran through her blond hair, and Ash half-consciously wondered how and where she had gotten the color.