She crouched down, her breathing low and heavy. A single gleam of sweat glistened at the edge of her furious fire - red hair. Her lips were pursed, her body tense. She was clutching her arm, where a horrendous wound was oozing with scarlet blood. Her wounded arm held a dagger. It was long, and the sharp edge glinted eerily in the low light. It was the color of her hair, and small ruby clouds seemed to swirl sluggishly in it. A jagged scar was buried deep across one side of the blade. Altogether it was simple, save for the black snake coiled around the handle. The scales were fine, so intricate, it looked startlingly real. A small forked tongue protruded from the open mouth. The fangs were bright white, with a lone drop of blood at the tip of one of the front fangs. Suddenly, the girl stifled a scream. Her face creased with pain, her eyebrows furrowed, and she snarled in pain. A mask of agony settled deep into her face. She clutched her leg, where an arrow had buried itself just moments ago. She held her breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled the arrow out. A small gasp escaped her lips. She let out a determined breath and jumped backward, turned around, glaring into the gloomy darkness. A soft light fell on her, and revealed scratches and scars all over her body. She wore a thin white button-down shirt, dirty and worn to shreds, torn almost beyond recognition. The sleeve of the right side of her shoulder was burnt to ashes and the arm beneath was covered in an enormous, unattended burn. She wore casual jean shorts, muddy and tattered. Her legs were quite a sight. Knees scratched almost to the bone. Any uninjured skin was under layers of grime. Her All – Star converse were shabby and ripped, the soles paper-thin from usage. She sprang again, and her face was lit up by the dim light, enough to see her features more clearly. She had a long, angular face, with deeply tanned skin. Small lips the same angry shade of her hair and a delicate nose were placed perfectly where they belonged. Her cheekbones were high, and upon them rested two eyes identical to a cat's golden ones. The pupils slit and contracted according to the light. They shined with a powerful aura of authority. They showed extreme stubbornness, immense courage, and frightening strength and violence. Somewhere deep, almost unreachable, hidden down under the supremacy was a glitter of sadness, and impossible gentleness. Her hair was thick and long, tumbling down in big, unfinished curls, messy with lack of combing, streaks of dried mud hanging on to a few strands of hair. She was exceedingly and unquestionably beautiful, for a Devil's Trinket.