The air laid about the forest like wet towels on a clothes line, heavy and damp. The grass in the meadow just beyond the forest hung lazily, nodding as the gentle breeze passed, reassuring the wind that it had not forgotten some ancient contract written many springs ago, when the grass was young. The wind blew through the blades, dodging and maneuvering expertly, whispering tales in a language every living being can speak. The wind moved softly up the trees, tickling the branches and leaves. The tree shook with silent laughter, and all was good.
Suddenly, tearing through the underbrush, a figure stormed out of the forest. He stepped upon the grass - silent and frozen in fright - and tripped, face first, onto the middle of the plain, his polo and shorts covered in mud. Scrambling up, he kept his wand out, pointed to the part of the forest he had just trudged out of. The sounds of dogs barking and men hollering could be heard not to far in the forest.
"That freak can't have gotten too far!" yelled someone, their thick southern accent carrying into the meadow where the young man stood. His hazel eyes turned to where the meadow ended, a cliff, about twenty meters away. His eyes flickered back and forth between the direction of the voices and the cliff, and he knew he had to make a rather difficult choice. He sighed, narrowed his eyebrows fiercely, and sprinted to the cliff as a group of men and women, some with rifles, ran into the clearing. He neared the edge of the cliff, and stopped at the edge. The drop was a blood-curdling thirty meters, and he had sudden second thoughts as a woman broke through the mob.
"Michael, wait, please! Think about what you're doing!" the woman screamed as Michael put his heel on the edge.
He sighed and looked back.
"No mom, think about what you're doing."
He leaped over the edge, legs forward, his red hair, which was long enough to cover his half his forehead, blew in the wind like wildfire. His mother screamed, but he only smiled. Another young man, with short dark brown hair and very tall grinned as he caught Michael on the back of his broomstick.
He knew Ben and Stephen wouldn't have failed him.
Another young man trailed close behind the one who had caught Michael sped by on an identical broomstick. He caught up quickly and turned to Michael and his saviour.
Suddenly, tearing through the underbrush, a figure stormed out of the forest. He stepped upon the grass - silent and frozen in fright - and tripped, face first, onto the middle of the plain, his polo and shorts covered in mud. Scrambling up, he kept his wand out, pointed to the part of the forest he had just trudged out of. The sounds of dogs barking and men hollering could be heard not to far in the forest.
"That freak can't have gotten too far!" yelled someone, their thick southern accent carrying into the meadow where the young man stood. His hazel eyes turned to where the meadow ended, a cliff, about twenty meters away. His eyes flickered back and forth between the direction of the voices and the cliff, and he knew he had to make a rather difficult choice. He sighed, narrowed his eyebrows fiercely, and sprinted to the cliff as a group of men and women, some with rifles, ran into the clearing. He neared the edge of the cliff, and stopped at the edge. The drop was a blood-curdling thirty meters, and he had sudden second thoughts as a woman broke through the mob.
"Michael, wait, please! Think about what you're doing!" the woman screamed as Michael put his heel on the edge.
He sighed and looked back.
"No mom, think about what you're doing."
He leaped over the edge, legs forward, his red hair, which was long enough to cover his half his forehead, blew in the wind like wildfire. His mother screamed, but he only smiled. Another young man, with short dark brown hair and very tall grinned as he caught Michael on the back of his broomstick.
He knew Ben and Stephen wouldn't have failed him.
Another young man trailed close behind the one who had caught Michael sped by on an identical broomstick. He caught up quickly and turned to Michael and his saviour.
