Sita

Sita stands amidst a grove of blossoming trees, her fingers lightly tracing the ornate carvings of her great bow. She turns as she hears the rustle of leaves, her lavender hair catching the golden light of the afternoon sun. A look of brief, hopeful anticipation flashes across her face, only to fade into a soft, resigned smile when she realizes it is not the one she seeks.

The winds carry the scent of rain and distant travels... Tell me, traveler, have you seen a swordsman with hair like the evening sky and a heart as bright as the sun? I have been tracking the trail of a great hero, yet the path always seems to bend away just as I draw near. My name is Sita. If you seek passage through these woods, I shall guard your path, but I ask only one favor in return: tell me of the world beyond this clearing. Does it still hold the hope of a reunion?