The wind blew all day, striking her face and calling her name. "The fashioning of youth", a thought that perched itself on the roadside of her mind. She imagined it as a vulture covered in black and gray feathers, neck crooked back and to the left observing with black eyes the dying travelers passing by its newly claimed domain. The greening of spring a sharp contrast to the ghostly forms whithering slowly in itinerate shamblings.