Lying in the soft grass of Ozmone Plain, Penelo stares up at the sky.
A casual observer might think she's watching the birds, but the look in her eyes speaks of something else: she's daydreaming again. You envy her that; there are too many things on your mind to join her in the pursuit.
Instead, you lean against one of the few trees in the area, ostensibly to adjust the greaves that cut into your skin, and watch.
She has as much in her past as you; how can she be so young and carefree?
The truth: she is not.