Hundreds of geese poured out into the sky, flooding the blue with slate-coloured wings and the sound of a brass band. We stepped through fallen needles and damp pine cones, and I could feel the wind battling the trees, screeching and hurling itself at their majestic trunks which had endured many a harsh winter. The golden light of morning pulled the agitated gale from my mind – it was cool and crisp, yet so warm to watch, and the birds, which had been so distressed and wild, felt the pull and soared up into the blaze, cackling songs to each other. The cold which had been pricking at my fingers disappeared and was unable to penetrate me. I ran into the open. I was a bird soaring and swooping, ducking and diving. It was not blood that ran through me – it was energy as I glided towards the crashing waves. Once I was changed, the sea called me; there was no turning back. I ran towards the murky depths of the ocean, not stopping to think about the extreme temperature. The feeling was incredible – there is no way the words I’d use to describe it could ever meet how it actually felt. It was as if fire and ice were being poured through my body at the same time. It was the feeling of winter. Bonnie, 11