[Meredith].
The first leap stole my breath because I flew farther than I expected. The ground blurred beneath me as my body found its rhythm effortlessly, muscles working in perfect harmony.
Wind tore past my ears.
Scents flooded my senses—damp earth, pine, wildflowers still closed in sleep, the faint lingering trace of night creatures retreating into shadow.
I could hear everything: the whisper of leaves brushing together, the soft scuttle of something small darting away, my own heartbeat pounding strong and sure.
I laughed—actually laughed, but the sound came out as a breathy huff lost to the wind.
This was freedom.
I wove between trees, leapt over fallen logs, my body responding faster than thought. Each stride filled me with exhilaration, with a joy so pure it made my chest ache.
This was what it meant to belong to the land. This was what Valmora had meant.
