Speedy's note: Something short that came to my mind when I was running in the forest, already slightly drained after a few sprints, but on a considerably big runners-high.
But I think it's not too bad.
The Taste of Speed
Sonic the Hedgehog jumped off the Tornado's wings almost as soon as the plane crossed the edge of Angel Island over one of the jungles. Tails was flying Knuckles home. After their latest successful strike against Robotnik, the echidna needed to check out that everything on his floating island was how it ought to be. Sonic needed something very different now; after the stress of the fights had worn off some, he needed his relaxation.
Now, finally, Sonic's quick feet were pounding the ground when he pushed himself to his top speed, running in no particular direction but forwards.
Knuckles and Tails were miles behind him and soon they would be on the other side of the island. Sonic would meet up with them later. Right now, he was running. Needed to run. To feel the wind.
The slight exhaustion of the last battles already cured and forgotten, Sonic felt itchy like always. Itchy to move. Knuckles needed to go looking out for the Master Emerald, Sonic needed to feel the speed.
The jungle disappeared behind him, only seconds later a long forgotten experience when the world around became a blur. Sonic paced plain grassland, the grass waving in the wind like a green ocean and Sonic's path a streak on it.
The air around him twisted, ruffling through his blue fur and tugging with his spikes. Sonic enjoyed being on his feet again, feeling the energy of the fast run flow through all of his warming muscles. The hedgehog gave in to the urge of his inner energy, to move and go faster and faster and faster, to feel the speed, and the wind gave way to him when he broke the sound barrier.
He was able to keep a low supersonic speed for about one hour and a half if he really pushed himself to his limits, his very top speed that was really a flash only lasted for three up to five minutes, that was depending on the ground to run on, the air temperature, the wind speed and its direction of blow and Sonic's personal form of the day. If he had a bad day, five minutes of real top sprint could drain him completely and finish him off for the rest of the day.
But Sonic didn't have a bad day, he had a perfect day. He was like an overloaded battery, filled up with inexhaustible energy, and sheer moving was really doing wonders for his temper.
The blue hedgehog stretched both arms out as he ran through the chest-high grass, his fingers caressing the tips of long grass blades and painting a picture of two new waves on the small savannah's rising and falling surface. Sonic smiled and lowered his head, closing his eyes for a few seconds and taking in the smells around him. The grass, the warmed, humid ground and the cooling breeze.
When the hedgehog's eyes opened again, the world they saw had changed, his speed had carried him hundreds of meters in just the blink of his eyes. The grass wasn't as high here and Sonic pushed his agile legs a little more than before, feeling the last ounce of a wind's barrier giving all the way to him.
The world rushed at his sides, no particular sound to be heard other than the beat of his own heart and the blow of the wind; Sonic was moving too fast to hear anything beyond that.
The hedgehog's eyes peered around. That was why he needed running and why he loved it in the way he did. This was his very own world, the world of speed and wind, that always changed and never was like it had been the instant before.
Sonic turned slightly to the left and ran on; he would keep on running as long as his feet would be able to touch the ground and the light of the day was still there. There was no reason to stop now. He would do that later.
Sonic smiled brightly. Much later.
After he had become one with the wind.
