The Way the Wind Blows

Chapter One

It was Mid-August, and yet already Summer's radiance had been usurped by Autumn's overcasting clouds. Rain crashed against the dry limbs of nearly barren statues of oak and pine, fall's cold grasp having taken hold of their once green and luscious designs. Flashes of orange and red soared through the air as if the sky was alive with flames, their colors dancing on the wind. In the distance, a darker, more brooding time had slowly crept its way along the horizon, the echoes of its streaking flashes sending gentle rumbling down below.

"Malakai! Malakai!"

A high pitched voice howled over the wind as a small girl ran through the rain with reckless abandon. a wild grin tore across her face as she ripped the lower half of her fine silk dress, allowing her to lengthen her strides. Her hands moved through her long black hair with no regard for the hours of time out into making sure that it stayed put up and tidy, the wind and rain helping her pull it down with ease. Her stride slowed to a jumbling hop as she slipped out of her velvet shoes, taking off at a faster pace once she entered the forest.

This is where she felt alive. Running, chasing the wind as fast as she could.

"Malakai! Get back here this instance!"

Huffs of shortened breath escaped the pale lips of a stout woman climbing over the hilltop, watching as the young ward dashed into the forest. A soft chuckle came from behind her as she stomped furiously into the ground. Her messy bun of brown curls blew into her face, making her sputter as an elderly man crept up along beside her. His face was a lively one, wrinkles failing to falter an endearing and everlasting smile. Brilliant blue eyes alive with childlike curiosity peered after the girl's frame as she darted through the forest, his hand resting upon his aide's shoulder.

"Let her have her fun, Mrs. Craymour. I'm sure she can find herself back to the manor."

Mrs. Craymour huffed indignantly.

"I daresay I haven't half a mind about the brats safety! She's been through tornadoes and hurricanes twice as large as that before. It's my poor dresses that always suffer her ridiculous obsession! Will you please speak to her about it, Mr. Walter?"

The old man rubbed his chin and straightened, a long smirk piercing his lips.

"Would you tell a cat to not groom its claws, my dear?"

"No, but it's nothing a good bashing with the broom won't solve to stop it from tearing apart my curtains."

He winced as he remembered her fiasco's storming through the manor chasing the housecat with a broom, hissing and meowing with every hit.

" You are too cruel, my dear."

The shadow of the coming storm soon eclipsed Malakai's frame as she leaped over a small pond, birds fluttering away as she landed. Her heart pounded against her chest as adrenaline poured through her body, the rain splattering against her a welcome cold to sooth the hot blood pumping through her. Suddenly, the wind changed, blowing her hair to the left, and as it did so she followed, her feet digging into the dirt and turning her momentum. This, is why she had taken off during her caretakers boring party. Why she had come home hundreds of times soaking wet and with deathly colds. Chasing the wind was her passion.

Mrs. Craymour had always called her crazy for it. Saying how she was going to get blown away one day by a summer breeze and never come down. But in truth, it wasn't just the wind chasing she found so enticing. Sure, racing the wind was always a quick way to get her going, but not all of them sounded the same. Especially not as enchanting as the sound it made now. Almost as if it were calling to her...