Washed Out and Faded
A figure stood before the bridge, staring blankly across at the great expanse of the Iron Kingdom. Her long, dark hair was limp and matted with clumps of dirt and twigs snarled angrily within. Her once white dress was heavily stained with mud and things any sane person would rather not think about, and her feet were bare and covered in scratches. There was a pair of doll-like shoes beside her on the ground, soiled and faded from exposure to the elements. It was clear they had been there for a long time, a relic of a forgotten past.
Anna had no memory of this place, but that was rather typical for her. She could remember little besides her own name these days and even then, it sometimes took a long time to recall it. Something was drawing her to this place, though she dared not venture across the bridge to discover what it was. For some reason, her stomach turned as if a thousand insects were rolling around in it. She was nervous. She was scared.