Her name was Arizona. After a state. Lived in an old cottage. That 'twas falling apart. But, now? New beginnings.

Arizona, stumbled upon a log. She winced. She was running away from home. From her mother who was emotionless, to her crazy aunt who spoke of "Magical castles burning down to ash in Ancient Egypt." Crazy right? She didn't quite know where on earth she would go, but it would be somewhere nice. Normal. Peaceful. Now, she dragged herself off of the log, and studied her surroundings. The sun was beginning to set. She had to find shelter. She had a hefty bag on her shoulders containing a flashlight, some matches, a tent (No joke) , a pocket knife, and a bottle of water. She had to admit, it wasn't the easiest thing to do, to hunt. But she had to. She began setting up her tent, and pitching it. How on earth do I have the nerve to run away? She wondered, as she was finishing pitching the tent.

*An hour later...*

Arizona was playing with matches. Obviously she wasn't supposed to, but she found the fire interesting. Very interesting.