Blossom had come a long way. Cast out into the world by her family, she had been forced to live among the streets. It was not a glamorous life, but at least she was alive. As she traveled she had heard rumors about witches and horrible creatures in the forest that floated about as she went about her day. One specific story stood out in her mind the most.

"I heard that she spelled her father. He started babbling like a mad man the day she ran away. That awful little girl better watch her back. You can't go around using witch craft on people and expect to get off scott free. The moment they find her they'll burn her wicked bones to the ground." Said a local woman. How could someone be so cruel? Miss use of magic shouldn't result in death. If Blossom heard right it was a girl, not a woman. It could have been an accident. Then again, it always could be the other way around. Blossom rarely trusted what people said about the super natural. Fear often warped people's stories.

"Martha did you hear?" Blossom pretended not to listen to the conversation that was being held behind her. "They got her! The run-away witch, they finally got her!" That couldn't be good.

Elsewhere in town sat a girl with short raven hair. She studied the sky through the small barred window of the dungeon as she remembered how it all went wrong. Life for the girl had sucked to put it bluntly. She had never been given a name, just a number. Her mother worked, if that's what you would call it and her father was a sorry excuse for a man. He was always drinking and venting his anger out on his children. She could still see what had happened four years ago.

"Number five!" he called, why didn't she have a name? She hurriedly responded to what he had asked, to get water from outside. The cold tore at her skin; it would not have been so bad if she had better clothes than the tread bare pastel green dress. As she filled the bucket she glanced up to see a raven sleeping on the brick wall. Quietly she came closer holding the now full bucket. It seemed so peaceful, but then the bucket slipped from her hands and landed with a clunk. The loud noise jolted the raven awake; it jumped of the wall and headed towards town. How nice would it be to run free as well, to escape.

"NUMBER FIVE!" called her father. She ran with the water, spilling most of it on the cold earth in her hurry. Most of what the large man yelled was unintelligible, but when he grabbed his favorite knife with the rune on it, his intentions were made clear. He began to attack, stumbling and roughly grabbed her shoulder. He swiped clumsily and left a light cut under her right eye. She screamed in pain and fear, a strange dark aura emerged from her body. The knife was knocked out of his hand and he fell backwards onto the floor. She took her chance and ran, for the first time in her life she was free.

A few years later, after she had gotten suitable clothes, she practiced the strange aura she had once produced. While practicing she had found an injured woman. The woman's eyes shined with hope. "You… mage." She spoke with a hoarse voice, "My daughter needs help… in the forest…" Despite her efforts, she could not get the woman to aid in time. It was then that she had been captured. All the practice she had done was not a secret as she had previously thought. The woman she ran into went to the grave thinking that a stranger with magical capabilities would save her daughter. What baffled the dark haired girl was if these people thought she was a witch, why were they burning her? Wouldn't it make more sense to drop her into the ocean with lead shoes? She straitened as she heard the mayor talk about the town's fine history. The execution would take place soon.

Outside the Dungeon Blossom stood in the dense crowd. Swimming to center of the ring to where the trial would take place.

"Bring out the prisoner!" The mayor cried over the cheering mass. The accused mage stepped on the platform, her black knee high boots clunked on the planks. Answering each question firmly and with courage she admitted that she was using witchcraft and was still in practice. With each passing second Blossom's heart beat increased. She had to do something to protect the green eyed girl before her. They tied the darkly cloaked girl to a hay covered post. The panic escalated when the flames were set into the wood. A charge of adrenalin and a simple memory 'you could do more than survive a deadly fall' let instinct to kick in. A wave of misty ice extended from Blossom's finger tips. She jumped on the plat form and untied the witch while the confusion lasted.

"Hurry to the southern woods." The fugitive called. Blossom eagerly obliged. Rapidly weaving through the town to the sanctuary of the forest green. Once there Blossom introduced herself.

"I'm Blossom, what's your name?"

"None of your concern." The girl grumped.

"I think it would be. I did just save you after all." Blossom defended.

"I didn't need your help." Retorted the darkly clad girl.

"Well I'm sorry that it's too much to ask your name seeing how you would have been burned alive were it not for me."

"It wouldn't have hurt that much." This baffled Blossom. Even if this girl was like her she remembered the fall that she had taken. While her body remained unharmed the fall was still painful. "I have more important things to do than argue with you." The girl finally said. With that she was off, running further into the forest. Blossom began to follow. Even thought the raven haired girl was stubborn, Blossom would eventually get her name.