Whispers in the Wind

Maybe I was close to a year old… I couldn’t be sure. But the world was already whispering to me.

Things have been quiet since that storm of emotion, but my hands haven’t lit up again.

And honestly? I’m okay with that.

That power… it scared me. Not because I couldn’t control it, but because I thought I could. The last thing I want is to hurt someone—especially her.

My mother.

I’m outside today, bundled in a woven shawl and sitting on her lap as she talks to one of the village women. I don’t understand much of it—just bits and phrases—but their voices are calm. Familiar. Safe.

That feeling of warmth hasn’t disappeared… but now, I’m more aware of it. It’s there, low in my chest, like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to my body.

Still. Waiting.

The wind picks up.

Not harsh. Just a gentle breeze brushing the trees beyond the fence.

And in that moment, I feel it.

Eyes.

Someone is watching me.

I don’t know how I know—but I do.

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I turn my head slowly, pretending to just glance at the trees.

No one’s there.

But I can feel it. Someone’s presence just out of sight.

It’s not threatening. If anything… it feels curious.

Like a fox waiting in the bushes. Watching. Smiling.

A flicker.

For just a second, I swear I see her again—the girl from the dream. The one with the ears.

She’s crouched low on a branch, green eyes locked on me, head tilted with a mischievous grin.

Then she’s gone.

A blink. A breeze.

Like she was never there.

I’m still too young to explain it.

Too young to walk over and find out who—or what—is hiding beyond the trees.

But in that moment, I know something for sure.

I’m not alone.

And someone out there knows who I am—even if I don’t know them yet.