A small figure stood at the cemetery gate—a girl who looked to be about eleven or twelve, dressed in a dark brown woolen coat and a black skirt, with warm cotton boots and thick gloves. She appeared to have been waiting at the gate for a long time. As the evening came in Frost City-State, snow began to fall, and her gray knitted hat had already caught several snowflakes, with faint steam rising amidst the twilight snow.
The little girl gently stomped her feet in place, occasionally peeking towards the slope across from the cemetery. When the guardian appeared, she instantly smiled and waved vigorously.
"...Here again."
Upon seeing the girl, the old guardian couldn't help but murmur with a hint of impatience in his voice, but he quickened his pace toward the girl.
"Annie," the old man frowned, looking at the girl in front of him, "you've come alone again—How many times have I told you? A cemetery is no place for a child to come alone, especially as dusk approaches."