Ok so this is my first story, judge me harshly, I want to be the best I can be. So please help me make this an amazing story.

Prologue

I hold her tight against me, crying, knowing that she was slowly leaving us, slipping through my fingers. Everyone has already given up. She's had this fever since the day she was born. That was three months ago. Though she lays nearly lifeless in my arms, her warmth still radiates off her chest. But I can feel her temperature gradually dropping. I feel a small chill crawl up my arm. It's coming. It's coming for her the way it came for my sister. The Wind Taker. The wind that takes the souls of those who are dying. It was the cancer that brought my sister to its feet. When it came for her, when it swept her right out from my arms, I could still feel her presence in the air, swirling all around me. Then it was gone. Her light on the Earth blinking out of existence forever. And now it's returned for my daughter, whose life has barely begun. I won't allow it to happen. Not before she's even had a chance to live.

I tuck my baby into my jacket gingerly but hold her firmly to my chest. I attempt to lift myself off my kitchen chair before my husband, Jeb, rushes to my side to help me. He'd always been the worrier. Now he had more than enough reason. We both did.

"I have to go," I tell him stuffing a bag with bottles, diapers and blankets for the baby, if we don't come back. No, she would get better. She would grow to be healthy and strong. All she needed was time and I would give it to her. What ever the price; even my life.

"Where to?" he asks.

I stop my shuffling and look at him with all the sorrow I've given up on hiding and the tears well up in my eyes again. Looking down at the baby, who I've refuse to put down for even a second, he slowly comes towards us to touch her tiny limp hands. He merely strokes her skin only to flinch in shock at how cold she is. I whimper. By now he knows full well that my plan was to save her at any cost. He wraps his long arms around us, holding us all together so tightly. I memorize the smell, the feel of this picture, I even taste the air, and store it in my memory, if this is the last time we would all be together this way. I can feel the tapping of tears falling on to my jacket. Low whimper came from him, making me cry even harder. Because of this, he composes himself as best he can and soothes out my hair.

"Promise you'll come back to me," he whispers in my ear, his voice shaking.

"I can't make that promise," I answer as evenly as I can. "But I promise, she will be safe."

I can hear the trees outside our home swaying. A loud whistle comes from them. The wind is close. I pull away from Jeb, kiss him tenderly on the cheek and run off.

I swing the back door open. The force of the wind causes it to slam into the wall, leaving a dent. I run but I'm not sure I can out run the wind. I can hide from it, though. But Where? Where do you hide from the wind if it has a mind of its own.

I decide take to the woods, tripping over nearly every protruding root in my path. This was a stupid mistake; it knows the forest better that I do. It knows every lake, tree, rock, animal, insect and their locations. If I moved so much as one thing it'd be obvious where to find me.

I look behind me and can see the leaves, sand, and dust revealing the shape of the monster. It's massive and aggressive looking, as it weaves in and out of the trees as though it had done it millions of times. I was in complete terror of the wind, despite the fact that it isn't me it's after. But I hear horrible stories. Stories about people, like me, running, for the same reasons and with the same consequences.

The wind is getting closer and looks almost irritated regardless that it has no face. It might be on a tight schedule. So many lives to destroy, so little time. The thought of it makes me sick.

I have to think of something to buy me time. What place is not be touched or harmed by the wind? This was why we couldn't stay home. Then it hit's me. Underground. The wind can't hurt us if we're beneath solid ground somewhere. With that glimmer of hope I force myself to run faster than I ever had before. My lungs burning for air but I ignore it and surge forward.

Buildings begin coming into view. If I can just make it to the well, and hide her in there I might have a chance to reason with the wind and come to an agreement.

I can feel the baby moving in my arms. She's okay, Jeb, she's okay, knowing my thoughts would never reach him. The edge of the woods is now a few feet away.

For some reason, I jump as soon as I reach the end, as if I were trying to tear myself free from a restraining force. My baby wiggles, pushing and fidgeting. That's good, you still have the strength to fight. But she was slipping from my jacket. Tightening my grip on her, her tiny fingers grab hold of my shirt. Tears stream down my cheeks, again.

I reached town square, at last, and there, in the middle of the shops and buildings, was the well. Bent over, I hold myself up with one hand on one knee and breathe heavily. Suddenly, screams begins to roar in. I assume they have seen it and that it must be close. People begin bumping into me, taking cover indoors; as if that could protect them. I lift myself up from my hunched position and take off for the well. I merge into the crowd of screaming people, blending in perfectly amidst the hysteria; my little girl was being chased by death himself, after all.

Once I reach the well, I ease her out of my jacket, hold her up against my chest and squeeze her. "Mommy loves you, mommy loves you so very much," I say, voice breaking at each word. A mother's love is the most unexplainable, and yet, strongest thing in the world. Though I've only known her for such a short while, I love her as though I have my entire life. I look down at the delicate child in my arms. Her eyes. Her big, beautiful, unforgettable brown eyes staring up at me curiously. I force myself not to burst into tears. If there were ever a time to be strong for my child, now was the time.

I quickly arrange the blankets neatly in the basket and tuck her in with them. Slowly, I lower her half way down the well. Then, I hear a loud crash from behind me. I swiftly, tie the rope to the wooden lever to keep her from going any lower.

I turn around and there it is, right there, only a few feet away, Death. The sky darkens and clouds begin to form. In an instant, windows from the surrounding shops burst outward onto the streets. Its remaining shards of glass collect in a swirling vortex of air, seizing paper, dirt, cups and anything light in its path. The building tornado rises to new heights giving shape to the wind. It stretches itself into such a huge mass that it looks thirty feet tall, towering over me. Most of the passer-by are gone and if anyone is still outside they're either huddled in a corner or hiding behind anything they can find so as not to be seen.

The wind whistles, violently ruffling the loose parts of my shirt, whipping my hair in all directions.

"You can't have her!" I yell straight up to the air. The wind whistles louder. But I stand my ground. And then I hear the faint cry of a baby. My baby. Tears stream down my face but they're quickly wiped away by the roaring wind. "No! You can't have her!" I emphasize each word letting them get caught in deaths blows. "She's not dyeing! Can't you hear her crying? She's not going to die!" The wind ignores me getting more irritated. It starts to pull my legs closer to it. I cling to the edge of the stone well, but my feet are slipping out from underneath me. "You're not taking her!"

The dusty color of the wind seems to turn red and it roars. It begins ripping trees from their roots.

My legs are no longer on the ground; my feet dangling, being pulled closer and closer to the wind. I wrap my arms tighter around the mouth of the well.

The wind won't leave without taking a soul. I swallow hard. I take one last look at my baby's brown eyes, her small hands reaching out toward me her fists opening and closing, her soft voice crying for me. I wonder if I can keep my memories where I'm going.

"Take me!" I cry screaming at the beast; I won't let this horrible thing win. "Take me instead of Max." The wind's whistling stops.

Suddenly a gust of air passes right through me and I feel an unnatural separation from my body. Then, everything that had been supported by the wind drops like a rock, including my body. It collapsed to the ground. My baby, sitting in the well, crying and crying waiting for me to pull her back up out of that dark hole, her arms in the air, her fists clenching and unclenching, wanting to be picked up.

But nothing comes and Max continues to cry. As the wind lifts me into the sky, her small, soft, crying voice echoes in my head. Max, stay lively, for the wind only takes the souls of those who are no longer living.


IM LOOKING FOR AN EDITOR! I GOT ALL MY TENSES MIXED UP AND MY SPELLING AND GRAMMER CAN US WORK, SO ANY ONE WHO WOULD LIKE TO HELP ME WITH THAT PLEASE LET ME KNOW.