A cacophony of noise, heart beats like drums, the rushing of blood, the gentle exhales and inhales of the world. Water lapping, wind dancing through leaves and of fire crackling. That one's her favorite, fire. Still or moving, dead or roaring, it is her favorite. She thinks it's engrained in her very being. In the blood in her veins and the air she breaths. Of course others make it, take from a deep well of energy that wraps along their veins, runs in their blood and breath it out. Large, flowing, bellowing swells of orange, red and gold.