Little legs leaping mountain peaks; barefoot through the treacherous burs and the thorns. Sheltering hurt deeply in the core of her stubborn shell; though falsely displaying a stunning assembly of well-striken armour adorned. The tested strength, in her feet, left her beat with defeat; as her best was quite shy to be good. But, mysterious wind generously gusted; gently shovelling ashes from her barely pounding crippled heart. The surface of the soil lifted her numb body, the roots beneath the dirt spoke soft whispers to her racing mind, the blow pierced through her soul, as she radiantly rose from the entangling ground. Unimaginable sense of what discretely lies past upcoming curves, chasing an unknowningly crooked journey, choosing this course. Secretely refusing to rather remain on the road where the pavement practically perforated her previous presence. Absent knowledge of where her little legs will land her, but clearly steering her soles from the soil they travelled to take her before. The gust of the blow is now wind in her hair, and she’ll run till she flies in thin air.