When I was young, borne upon the hands of the Creator, I sang and danced upon every face of the world. No stone ever wanted for my care, and I swirled around fit to make them envy my freedom even as I so often desired their staunchness. When mountains reared before me, I took their challenge, and roared up their faces, shaking away the snow from many limbs in order to taste the cold air at their peaks. Thence, I would fall, and fall and fall, swooshing down the slope and in between every tree, bouncing from rock faces as I descended. Sometimes, I found myself lost in a cave, a crevice, or some other pocket from which I could not escape, and I was sad to be still, though never for long.
        No blade of grass ever missed my touch, nor did a single leaf upon any tree go without my loving caresses. It was I who shook them in the autumn and caused them to fall, playfully bouncing them as they drifted to the dirt. Never was I sad to see them go, for I knew they always would return when spring came rushing with warmth and life once again.
        I kissed the water of every lake, river, and ocean, in every part of the world. They lapped at my fingertips as I tickled them, rising up, higher and higher, striving to touch me as I swept past. Upon these bodies of water, I filled sails and hopes alike, driving mortals and others into their futures and relishing their praises. There were many who worshiped me alongside the Lightning, the Fire, and even the Earth itself! I was held high in their esteem, and that was enough. I cared not to immerse myself in the happenings of the world.
        Once, all was wonderful, and I brought seasons, harvests, and life to all those who felt my touch. But as with all things, there was one man jealous of all the rest, who felt the Wind and desired me for himself, that no other might own my affection, as though I was a thing to be owned not a force to be appreciated. Rumin, a wizard of tremendous power who was practically worshiped by mortals at the time, brought many magics and sorcerers to his palace in the hope that they might concoct a plan to capture me, and their conversation was thus.
        "She is here," said the wizard, his fingers stroking the black goatee that dripped from his lip and chin, "and I wish her to stay that way."
        One of the other sorcerers laughed, "You can't imprison the Wind. What would you want her for?"
        Rumin breathed in, his nostrils flaring with his temper, and he muttered some incantation lost to the world that forced the man who had spoken against him to strangle himself. As he choked and gasped, spluttering to the floor, the wizard stood over him, a grim smile touching his lips. "Were she with you, you could breathe now, Umit."
        A sort of electricity crackled in the room as the other four sorcerers seemed to debate whether it was worth testing Rumin's power again, or if they should accept that his would not be requests, but orders. One by one, they nodded their obedience to him, and he smiled with a hunger that told of his desperation. "I will catch the Wind, and I will keep it forever."
        They set about crafting some sort of incantation they might cast in order to pin me down, to keep me from exiting their presence once I was with them, but what they could not understand was that I did not have a corporeal body such as they do. There was nothing for them to trap, though they tried many times. Each of them I laughed, continuing my dance, tickling their hair and flipping the pages of their many books, occasionally darkening one of their candles only to swirl the smoke about. They could try all their tricks, their offerings, their sacrifices. None of that mattered to me, for I needed them as little as I needed any other thing. I was free, freer than they could imagine, and being thus was free of desires, of fear, of temptation, hunger, greed, or any other of the maladies from which poor humanity often suffers so deeply.
        Next, they attempted to lure me, as though the Wind could be led by magic and cooing words. They prayed, to me of all things, and in doing so hoped to appeal to my vanity, yet I had none, though I found their prayers flattering for those are meant for greater things. An entire wing of the castle was emptied of all furniture, the likes of which I could not flutter or budge, and I must admit I did enjoy that. Tapestries bounced and danced along with me, sheets flew and fluttered, and a hundred frocked dresses worn by a hundred beautiful women swayed and shimmered with my touch. It was a delight to linger there, and I was loath to leave it, but did so soon enough, for outside were trees that grew stiff and still without my limbering contact.
        Perhaps I should have sensed their intent when next I visited the castle, for it was then Rumin first truly attempted to capture me. In my presumptions about the untouchable nature of my existence, nothing worried me beyond a closed door or a shuttered window. It was one such of these that I battered against in the castle, a locked door leading I knew not where. Its hinges rattled, and even the stoutest timbers shook at my coming. When I gusted one final time against the door, to my shock and delight, it opened. Within the room stood Rumin and the other sorcerers, their brows sweating as they concentrated on something I did not understand. They spoke a word, a foul word, one I blew away in an instant, hoping to diffuse it into the air.
        Then I felt a pulling. Never before had any sort of force affected my direction. To be pulled was an experience I was not prepared for, and did not enjoy. Though they strained and stressed, and their efforts finally altered the Wind for the first time, they could not contain me. I wormed away from their grasp as it tightened, and could feel the hot snort of disappointment from Rumin as he realized they had failed. Yet, even as I left the room, bouncing freely from wall to wall, even knocking a few paintings to the floor for good measure, I could sense his letdown was not as deep as it seemed.
        From the castle I then retreated to the sea, the horizon of blue upon which no human could ever hope to sail as freely as me, and I allowed myself to rest for the first time in a very, very long time. Rumin had altered my flight. He had not stopped me, but he had changed me, and in doing so, had stolen the Wind from the world for three days as I rested in the water.
        No curse, no fear, could possibly keep the Wind from roaring again, and it was not long before I took to the sky once more. For some time, I kept apart from Rumin and his sorcerers, though I fretted not to visit the lands about his castle. I could tell the world was glad to feel my touch again, even after such a brief repose, and so I was determined never to sequester myself away from it again. Wind drives the world as much as the Sun or the Rain. There were sails to fill, and mills to turn, and much of the work I had left undone was repaid with interest, and I relished in the thanks of the farmers and the cheering praises of pirate, soldier, and merchant alike.
        Eventually, I knew Rumin's castle would want my touch, and I decided one early morning to oblige them, bursting into the hall, shoving the loose gates aside with my brazenness, and roaring into the halls that had for so long been empty and still. Strangely, there were no ladies in dresses to ruffle, no hats to toy with, nor tapestries to flutter. Stone, and stone alone, greeted me, and I bounced from the walls in disgust and disappointment that Rumin would so rob me of my fun. This, perhaps, proved my flaw, and I lunged through the castle in search of him or his sorcerers.
        As I flipped and flitted among the stones of the castle, searching for someone or something to play with, I fell prey to the work of the vile wizard. It was Rumin who had stolen my happiness from this place, and he who I sought as I exited a window, out into the courtyard. Rising higher, and higher still, I hoped to look down on the castle and see him from afar. Yet, as I swirled up around one of the towers, he and the sorcerers lifted from them a gaping bag of canvas, upon which he had cast a spell most powerful, most ruinous to one such as me, and I rushed forth past its open mouth and into an oblivion. I pressed on as hard as I could, straining myself to reach the end and rebound, to escape from this place I felt closing in so tightly around me. Suddenly, I was cut off from the world. Where once there was light, now there was darkness. Where once there was Wind, now all was still.
        Not knowing that magic of this sort existed, I panicked, wanting nothing more than to cast myself against the walls of my prison and shatter, rebound back whence I had come and be free once more. Yet no matter how far I blew one way or the other, no matter the haste with which I flew, there was no end. Infinite stillness.
        So here I sit, waiting, alone for who can say how long? I wait for rescue, for even the smallest opportunity to fly from this prison and once again rush upon the face of the world. With nothing to brush against, no trees to tickle or mountains to climb, the sensation of blowing is gone to me. I cannot tell whether I am still, or move, for there is no point of reference. In utter darkness, in silence, in stillness, there can be no Wind, and I would weep were there tears in me to cry.
        Sometimes I think I can hear the wizard, though I am certain his voice speaks only in my imagination, and for the first time in all my long life, I feel one of the more human emotions: rage. This has been a world of peace and plenty, of calm, of hope, and light, and all things good, spurned by my own joviality. For eons, I alone carried the burden of cleansing mankind of their wrongs, making all things pass, and turning, ever turning the seasons for them. In return, I have been given this. The only gift anyone ever tailored to my unique traits. A prison.
        I rage. I feel myself swirl, boiling, frothing with an anger I knew not lay within me. This, I can only imagine, is what Rain feels when he storms, what Lightning feels when she bolts! I rage, and tumble over, through, and within myself, churning into a tempest, a veritable hurricane of fury and force. In my mind I hear Rumin's voice, his mocking, his derision, and the cyclonic nature of my wrath is made manifest, tearing at the nothing around me and pulling back upon the edges of oblivion. I can feel it, the fabric of my prison, the magic bag that, for so long, has held me prisoner. With my might I recoil against it, smash into it, push it, pull it, tear it as it bends and stretches, and finally, finally, it breaks! I burst through the seam in less than an instant, and I am glad to see Rumin's terror as I escape.
        Though there were others in his castle, innocent folk who once loved the Wind, they could not stand against my wrath. I became then the storm they all feared, the tempest made real, and I tore the stone of their castle down with my breath, cleaving homes and lifting roofs, casting them about wantonly. Such was my scorn that I cared not for their loss, and ever higher grew, blasting down the keep within which Rumin hid like a coward.
        When at last there stood but one man before me, all others stripped away in the gales, I slowed, and stopped, and grazed gently across Rumin's beard and cheek one final time. He spoke, and perhaps there was a learning in his words, or a deep wisdom, or an apology, but none shall know for the roar of my response, "Were I with you, you could breathe now." I took the air from his lungs, and I held it, perhaps as long as he kept me imprisoned in that bag, who knows, but by the time I let him have it back, it was far, far too late. He was dead, forgotten, as humans are wont to be, and I still howl and dance with the trees and the seas.
       Where once there was Wind, there always shall be.