Whispers of Transformation

There I was, a little puff of white against the endless blue, and Cirrus was beside me, her edges soft and feathery. She sighed, a sound like the rustle of silk. "Oh, Nimbus," she murmured, "isn't this perfect? The air is so gentle today. We could drift for miles and miles, just letting the wind carry us wherever it pleases."

I tried to nod, but it felt like a heavy thing to do. Miles and miles, yes, but where was the *point* of drifting? My gaze, as always, was fixed on the shimmering line far below, where the sky kissed the water. The sea. It was a different world, a world of constant motion and dazzling light. The turquoise shallows near the shore, the deep, mysterious navy further out, the white lace of waves tumbling onto golden sand – it was a masterpiece I could never tire of watching.

"It's… nice, Cirrus," I managed, my voice thin and wispy. "But don't you ever wonder what it's like *down there*?" I gestured vaguely with a tendril of myself towards the distant horizon.