Wind
Elwing stands, tall and firm as a tree, letting the wind lift her hair up off her shoulders, lift the fabric of her dress up from her skin.
The wind blows through her, and she closes her eyes.
And then she feels as if she is riding on the wind like a bird, weightless, like a feather lifted and tossed on the wild wind, holding her gently like an attentive child holds a delicate butterfly.
The wind gets stronger, and she lets it pull up her arms and body, her feet rise and she is balancing on tip-toe.
The wind is harsh and relentless, it whips over the ocean and rakes through the trees.
But the wind is gentle with her.
It cradles her lightly in its grasp, and when she stands on tip-toe, eyes closed and arms wide to the wind, she feels as if she is a bird, riding the currents of air through the sky.
How nice it would be to be a bird, to sail over the ocean and the trees, to soar up into the night on the arms of the gentle breeze.
She sighs as the wind calms, buffeting her no longer with its loving caress, and she lowers her arms, and opens her eyes, and hears her mother calling, and remembers the earth that she is bound to still.
Elwing is a young girl in this story. :)) review? Maybe? Yes?