A cold, clear wind ruffles over me as I swoop through the air. I glide from tree to tree, watching the small girl doing the same, but without wings. She really could be one of us, with her dark skin and dark hair, and the flash of white teeth that I see every time she smiles or laughs. Right now for instance, she is swinging on the branches of an apple tree, laughing as she gets higher and higher in the air. When she is high enough, she lets go of the branch and spins through the air, before catching onto the branch of another tree. She then begins to climb delicately up the tree, until she is perched on the highest branch. She reaches for the biggest apple, which is placed at the very top of the tree. She just about has it in her hand, when her foot slips and she begins to spiral down, the apples in her basket raining down over her. She only falls a couple of metres before she grapples onto a branch. Miraculously, she manages to catch her basket too, but all of the apples that she has spent so long carefully collecting are gone. She quickly resumes her climbing but taking a little bit more care in where she steps. After half-an-hour, she has a full basket of apples once again. She sneakily plucks one out of the basket and gobbles it up, which she knows will get her punished severely if she is caught, but quickly picks another one to replace it. Suddenly, she turns around and sees the red flag that signals quitting time. She quickly sings out a pure, sweet four note tune in her high, clear voice. As usual, I am the first mockingjay to respond. She leaps through the trees, until I can see her no more.