Jinthe ducked her head nervously as Aeolus greeted her, and she graced him with a timid reply: “Thank you. I . . . I’m fine, really.” As they began to walk, he asked her name. “Jinthe.” It came out as a squeak, so she repeated it again. “Jinthe.”
Jinthe’s wings fluttered nervously. She tried to smile, but she was too jittery. “So. You’re . . . a prince of Sabertooth?” she inquired, wary. “I . . . I know I don’t look like it, but I could be a very good sigma. I actually don’t remember where I came from. I just know that I mysteriously have excellent reflexes and can fight well. I had a bit of a run-in with a fox.” Give her some nourishment, and she’d be able to fight even better than she had against the fox. She knew she had to have been a sigma in the past, for her fighting was very well honed, and it was almost like instinct to her.

“It started under neon lights, and then it all got dark!”