The Forest

    This is my first little piece of actual, entirely creative fiction. But I am starting to feel like I am writing the same story, just all different parts and out of order. But yeah, this is not based on a dream or an amalgamation from life events.

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    The forest smells cold and empty. Despite it's emptiness there is movement. The air is flowing through the canopy in a steady torrent, pulling at the trees. It grasps at the branches, trying desperately to stop it's rush. It is dark, but it is not night. It is as if there is no sun, no moon, and certainly no stars. Just blackness above.
    There is a girl. She isn't running, but she is striding through the forest at a determined pace. Her long arms are wrapped around herself, and she keeps her eyes on the ground ahead of her. The wind pulls at her arms, as if trying to take her backwards with it. She hunches forwards and keeps walking. As she walks the tugs grow more insistent, desperate even. Plucking at her hair, grabbing at her clothes, drafting icily around her ankles. It clings to her like she was a vine dangling over a cliff edge, with hellfire burning below. She keeps walking.
    The wind, once clingy and scared, is getting even more insistent. Now it pulls at her in irritation, frustrated at her ignoring it's pleas. It gusts, whipping her hair about. It demands she stop and acknowledge it's need. She casts her eyes down, making sure her feet find solid purchase. The unseens treetops groan under the wind's increased assault. The only response from the girl is perhaps and slightly quicker pace, but she keeps walking.
    The wind is angry now. Why should she go on, when it must go back? Why can't it decide for itself where it should be? Who is this tiny mammal to be striding about like she has choice or freedom? No no no, if the wind must go to some horrid doom, it is only fair it not go alone. This girl, this fleshy earthbound sack of meat, has no respect no consideration! And not even an ounce of shame.
   The wind is now screaming, wailing through the forest. It must blow towards damnation, that is why it exists. Winds do not choose, they simply exist. But they can rage, and rage is all that this wind has left.
    But the girl keeps walking.