"Now, begin in the middle, and later learn the beginning; the end will take care of itself."

Deep in the Forest of Magic, hidden by the tall trees and thick foliage, there lay a house. The house was humble, yet somewhat large when compared to what one might find in the Human Village; it was something comparable to what might exist among the proud Tengu, or in the lost village past Youkai Mountain and far to the east.

Further, the once-home possessed architecture much unlike anything else commonly seen in Gensokyo, featuring materials and techniques in its construction that denoted a similar style to that which made up the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Carefully laid brick, wood paneling, wrought iron and the like - it was all very much different than the mostly wooden homes the average human or even Tengu might live in these days. Different. Out of place, out of time, and for the most part, out of notoriety. Indeed, this house had existed far outside the attention of the land's people for quite some time, save for an errant straggler here or there whose sudden disappearance would go unnoticed by anyone of importance and thus, become hardly worthy of anything more than a footnote in this story.

But the house is not important, at least not to you, nor is the wood paneling, the bricks, the footnotes or the location. No, what's important, and what should be focused on, lays within...

A girl, or what could best be defined as a "girl', sat quietly on the wooden floor of the foyer. Her green dress and bright blonde locks stood out against the dull, dusty and cob web-laden interior that had fallen into decay over the years. What stood out more was a bright red, plush-like glove that she wore over her right hand, and the single, matching horn-like protuberance on the left side of her head. Beyond that she seemed like a perfectly normal little girl. "Girl".

At the moment, she was currently carving a niche into the floor with a small silver knife, repeatedly stabbing the instrument into the wood. She was silent, lost to her own thoughts - what few there were - and waiting. Always waiting.

Waiting for a savior... a victim... a way out.