Wild

A girl on the edge. Running. Running for her life. Running for her freedom. Can she escape the shackles of society to truly be wild?

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2. Flying

I run across the forest floor, savouring the feeling of the moss and dirt between my toes. My bare feet are rough with callouses that are a result of years of exploring the shadowed places in the forest, far away from the well known clearings. Clad only in a tattered dress as thin as gossamer, with my ebony hair flying behind me, I must appear as an apparition, a being of the elements that could disappear in the blink of an eye.

I spy a low hanging tree branch above me and I leap, pushing up off the ground, reaching out with my arms as I do. I feel the rough bark beneath my palms and grab on tight, wrapping my fingers around the branch and swinging my body in a long arc. Timing my release just right, I soar through the canopy of leaves, arching my spine to land lightly on my feet, poised in another tree, like a bird about to take flight.

I take pleasure in this rare moment, just for an instant, before I push off again, the strong muscles in my legs contracting. I feel a long awaited thrill as I plummet towards the ground, only to be caught and flung up again, somersaulting through the sky.

This is where I belong, out in the embrace of nature, where I can be myself. Where I can be as free and careless as the delicate butterflies that flutter amidst the colourful flowers. Where I can let my spirit fly.

I wish all my time could be spent this way.

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