I remember running through the leafy autumn wind, stories lit by winter's firelight, and the mud and the dampness of spring's early rains... but most of all, I remember the glory of summer.

Of days spent in wonderment, racing through the grassy fields, building kites, and soaring thoughts.

Nights of glowing embers in the sky, fuelled deep within the earth, igniting, and drifting through the windy paths. Soft and white on your cheek, but red and fierce as the sun was rising.

Our names were Ruth, Tailore, Yaon... Nhed, Roud and Tomas. And me.

This is how I learned to fly.

a series of short stories and chapters, a work in progress
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