The Ranger and the Angel

Silence. That was what greeted the gray-green cloaked girl as she trotted her chestnut mare into the small clearing. The silence seemed too unnatural to her, and the soft padding of the mare's hoof beats seemed too loud.

Pulling the mare to a slow stop, Emily dismounted, pushing back the cowl of her cloak, revealing messy strawberry blonde hair and black eyes so dark that it was impossible to tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began. At first glance and to the untrained eye, one couldn't see the similarities between Emily and her father, Lord Morgarath, the opponent stuck in the Mountains of Rain and Night.

Although that was close to changing. Anyone with a working brain-Rangers, Knights, and the King-knew that. And they also knew that it was most likely going to be a long, bloody fight to the end. Which is what had brought her to this clearing. The report that had been given to Crowley had been garbled, and at first, he was reluctant to send her there. But she had persisted, and he sent her.

But now, she was regretting persisting and nagging so much. The quiet seemed supernatural, as if the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Sensing this, she loosened her sase knife-basically a short, heavy, sword-and took a few steps forward.

At first, nothing happened. It seemed to her that the report had been fake, a trick to get her out of the castle and away from the man that had quickly become a father-figure to her. But that was not the case.

Emily was about to turn around, when a gust of wind whipped around her, whipping her cloak back and nearly lifting her off her feet. Soon, however, the wind stopped, and she feel to her knees, gasping to get some air in her burning lungs. Dancer, her chestnut mare, nuzzled her lightly and Emily patted her, standing slowly.

"Its OK," she said. "I'm alright...Just a little winded..."

She looked around again, this time, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her knife, just in case she needed it in short notice.

But the strange occurrences weren't done yet.

Soon after the sudden gust of wind that had taken the breath from her, a blinding white light flashed from the sky. Dancer startled, and Emily had to take her hand off of her weapon to raise her cloak to shield the animal's eyes, while her other hand shielded her own, while she turned away. The light died away as quickly as it came, but not without leaving someone in the center of the clearing, a few feet from Emily and Dancer.

The person, Emily saw soon after turning around, was nothing like anyone she'd ever seen. The girl was pale, deathly so, with deep red hair that stood out starkly against her complexion. Big, brown eyes met her's and Emily soon had to drop her gaze from the girl.

By doing so, she noticed differences in the girl's outfit as well-A long, pure white satin dress that seemed to barely touch the ground under the girl's feet, and fingerless white gloves seemed odd to Emily, especially if one was hiking in the woods. It wouldn't have-shouldn't have-been that clean and tear free.

The girl's voice, a voice that called to Emily's mind many choirs singing at the same time, called her from her thoughts. "My name is Annabel," the girl said, stepping forward, "I am an Angel of the Lord, and I am here to help you."