Disclaimer: I am not LM Montgomery, these are her characters, and she really made the outline of the story, I am just filling in details. I do not have ownership of the characters or setting, etc. etc.

Dedication: an anonymous person I know, who has gone through horribly similar circumstances as Leslie West, except for the last and perhaps worst thing of all that Leslie had to go through. God bless.

The Call of the Winds

"Ho, when the wind of winter blows

Over the uplands and moonlit spaces,

Come ye out to the waste of snows,

To the glimmering fields and the silent places.

I whistle gaily o starry nights

Through the arch of the elfin northern lights,

But in long white valleys I pause to hark

Where the ring of the home-lights gems the dark.

Come, ye earth children, whose hearts are sad,

I will make you valiant and strong and glad!"

-LM Montgomery, The Call of the Winds

Chapter One: Spring is Come

The evening light swung out over Four Winds Harbour. A breeze ruffled through the trees and gardens, a breeze with a fresh scent of the sea, waking after a winter asleep. Just outside of Glen St. Mary, upon a little farm, a light flickered in one room at the top of the old farmhouse. Through the thin white curtains, a young girl was visible, sitting up in bed.

Leslie West got silently out of bed, her faded nightgown, though several inches too short, billowed around her thin body. She approached the window and unlocked it, letting the fresh spring breeze in, as it playfully tossed her wheat-gold hair. Leslie smiled prettily and gave a short laugh. She dragged a chair over to the window and sat, staring dreamily out to her beloved home. The little barn, empty for now, stood to the left of the house. In the front yard, the empty flower beds were starting to look green, as was the grass, with each piece having a few drops of dew upon their new faces. After a while, her eyelids flickered once, twice, and fell, as she started to dream of "darling things".

Out in the hallway, a little head peeped around the door into the bright room. Kenneth, Leslie's only brother, came in and shut the door. He went and blew out the dripping candle at her bedside and, pulling a blanket from the bed, sat down on her lap and put his arms around her neck, covering them both with the blanket. His head snuggled into her shoulder, and he could smell her sweet hair as his breathing slowed to rest.

The wind continued to play her soft sweet lullaby through the night, ever so gently and ever so kindly. The children slept while spring awoken. They were friends with the seasons, but especially with spring, and they knew to answer its call.

This was a short chappie, but let me know what you think! I have always been so entranced by Leslie, and decided that this way; we could get to know her better yet. Does anyone have any suggestions as to how old Miss Cornelia should be? Leslie is 12, Kenneth, 8.

hester