A cry for help rang in her ears. He wasn't dead after all. She peeked into another tunnel and found him. He was hunched over with his knees folded up under him, his hands over his head. He was quite tall, so that position couldn't be comfortable. His freckled face was soaked in tears. His hands pulled at his red hair, removing the perfectness from it slowly but surely. She stared at those red locks of hair. That was what she loved. That and the freckles. They were beautiful. She had no interest in the tiny start of a beard on his chin like others did. It was his personality that had captured her attention. He was funny, silly, and careless. All the things she wanted to be, but couldn't due to gender restrictions set in place long before her time. His beautiful red locks were another thing entirely. Something she had seen on no one else. Only one other person, but those were stark black and curly. That guy was something different entirely. He was beautiful.