The wind rustled through the autumn leaves, tugging a few loose to slowly drift towards the earth. It raced around trees and through the woods, silent but evident.
He created the wind, manipulated it. A swish of his fingers and the air danced through the sky. It was his gift and he cherished his ability to influence the elements. It gave him unimaginable power.
His whole life was a study of this gift. Few were able to speak to the elements, and even fewer with as much power as he had. He nurtured this forest and helped it grow. He spoke to the water that nourished the plants, put out the fires set by lightning, and moved earth that obstructed the growth.
He looked around his woods, so carefully watched over, and sighed from boredom. His mind wandered to his teacher, who insisted on this continual task.
“You have a responsibility,” his mentor would say. “You must protect and nurture. Take care of the life that grows here.”
He rolled his eyes. This task had gone on for too long. Sometimes he didn’t want to protect and nurture. Sometimes he just wanted to burn.
A small flame appeared in his hand and licked at his fingertips. His eyes flicked to the trees. And he smiled.
Rachel May 