The first draft of wind that crept in during the early morning awakened the deeply sleeping Hill.
Hill opened his eyes and noticed the window was half-open; Cohen had gone flying outside early in the morning.
The light breeze turned fragrant over a hundred li, and the warm fog drove the clouds to envelop the earth and sky.
Hill stood by the window, watching Cohen soar among the clouds high above, filled with joy.
The king of the skies, the peregrine falcon, could only fly slowly at low altitudes in this world. Despite its immensely proud nature, it struggled to soar through the clouds.
When Cohen had first started following Hill, it could only live atop the tallest trees, making forceful spurts towards the sky, yet it still couldn't persist long enough to reach the clouds.
It was very happy then, for back on the plains, there were neither such tall trees nor such high mountains. It had never been above the clouds before.
