A strong wind sends the samara seed on a journey to find her new home When the wind began to blow, the whole world seemed to be angled in the exact same way, swaying in the same gentle pattern. The clouds traveled across the gray sky, the branches of the trees bending and creaking as they were pulled to the side. Leaves and vibrant flower petals swirled through the air. In between it all, a single samara seed was carried along, floating on its light-pink wings. The grass was damp and green, covered in bugs clinging to each blade for their lives, trying to escape the strong pull of the wind. The samara watched them; it had learned to allow the wind to carry it. I am so much smarter than those foolish bugs, it thought as it drifted by. The samara eventually lost sight of the cluster of maple trees it came from. Now it was time to wait and see where it would land once the wind died down. Eventually, it glided over a farmer frantically pulling his cows every which way as the cold rain soaked their shivering bodies. The samara hadn’t seen many cows before. I must be very far from home now, it thought to itself as the cows faded out of view. Not much later, the samara reached a rickety wooden play structure. The children had abandoned it, but the wind still made the swing set rock back and forth, its rusty chains rattling like a quarter in a tin can. The samara hadn’t ever seen children on a play structure before— it had only seen them climbing trees, or sitting with their backs pressed against the bark of a tree as they read a book. I must be miles from home now, the samara thought as it left the play structure behind. The Temple of Many Towers Soon after, the samara saw a beautiful cottage ahead. It had a thatched roof and was surrounded by colorful flowers and had vegetables growing in its garden. The old windows were bolted shut in an attempt to keep the draft out. Even from all the way up in the sky the samara could hear the faint whistling of a hot teapot coming from inside the house. The samara gazed at the strange plants around the house; it hadn’t seen so many different kinds of plants in one place before. I wonder if any other seed has traveled this far before, it thought. At first this whole adventure had been exciting, but now the samara was scared. Would it ever find a home? Would the storm ever stop? Eventually the whistling was gone and the cottage was out of sight, just in time for the samara to spot a campground with men quickly carrying supplies inside tents and putting covers over the firewood to keep it dry. The only experience the samara had had with fire was seeing a thick plume of smoke rising from over the trees when it still lived in the grove of maple trees. Could this be the source of the smoke? the samara thought. No, that’s impossible. This campground is probably thousands of miles away. It must be a different one. The samara came to a small village with uneven cobblestone streets that was surrounded by trees. People were ripping the clothes off the lines that hung between the rows of houses and shops. The air was filled with cloaks, shirts, scarves, and pants that had escaped and now joined the samara on its journey over the countryside. The samara had not seen many people dressed like the people who dashed up and down the slippery streets. Maybe I’m out of the country. I wonder if they still speak my language here. The samara traveled over the outskirts of the bustling village, where all the small and secluded huts sat. It saw the old stables that housed beautiful and majestic horses. The horses neighed and stomped their heavy feet inside their stalls. The samara was glad it hadn’t landed here; the smell of horse dung was overpowering. I pity whatever seed has the misfortune of landing here. When it came to the center of town, the samara could now see inside the large windows. Some people sat in tea shops sipping steaming mugs of tea to warm their bodies. Some were examining products from inside the store that sat in display cases, ignoring the wide eyes of the curious window-shoppers who had their faces pressed against the glass. Others were sprinting home from work with a book or coat held over their heads. What a waste of books. Where the samara came from, books were rare and treasured items. This foreign country must be very wealthy, it thought. I’ve landed so far from home. What if this new life is too hard? What if I’m not ready to land? The samara looked over the town, not realizing it was slowing down. The heavy drops of rain became smaller and less frequent until they had disappeared completely. The samara found its gentle path through the sky turning into a fast spiraling motion as the ground came closer and closer. It arrived at the other end of town, where there was grass and space to grow, just in time. The samara found itself losing the feeling of weightlessness as it slowly descended. It looked around. I’ve landed so far from home. What if this new life is too hard? What if I’m not ready to land? But there was nothing it could do now. The wind, which before had been violent and unforgiving, gently carried the samara onto the grass, carefully placing it in the perfect spot. The samara felt the soft, cool grass welcome it. Many years later . . . It was finally the morning—the morning, when the pale sun rose over the maple tree that had finally grown over the village wall. The maple tree looked out over the countryside.

A year after the snow day that changed her life forever, Anna finds a wounded bird On Tuesday morning, a sheath of crystalline white over the bedroom window obstructed Anna’s view of anything else outside. Snow day, she thought, and without explanation, a feeling of dread crept over her. School would be canceled, she knew, and the fact was confirmed by her mother at breakfast. Anna stared out the kitchen window, which the snow had somehow bypassed. The trees sagged, deposits of heavy whiteness weighing them down. Beside the window, an evergreen dropped a load of snow suddenly and then sprang back up, splattering white powder over the glass windowpane. What was there to do if school was out? Anna wandered listlessly around the house, did some simple extra-credit homework from her fourth-grade class, and finally sat down with a book and tried to focus. But her mind kept wandering away from the lines of print on the pages, and her mother, taking notice, said, “Maybe if you go outside and play, you’ll feel better.” Inside, Anna disagreed. Her mother couldn’t possibly understand what she was thinking, what the snow was reminding her of. But Anna obeyed anyway, slowly tugging on her big boots and throwing a jacket around her shoulders. She didn’t want to go out, even if staying inside meant doing nothing at all. Because last winter, on the first snow day of the year, Anna had done a terrible thing. Girl with Birds She didn’t want to think about it. Slowly, perhaps because the boots were half a size too big, Anna trudged outside into the snowdrifts that greeted her on the front doorstep. She shut the door quickly so that cold air would not invade and displace the natural warmth of the house. It had snowed just a little more than a foot last night, and the texture of the snow was just right for shaping snowballs or rolling up a gargantuan snowman. It should have been a perfect day. But it wasn’t. Anna tried to have fun. She had piled up about fourteen snowballs before she realized that there was no one to have a snowball fight with. She had rolled the three individual sections of a snowman before she remembered that she could not stack up the sections by herself; they were too heavy and bulky for her to lift on her own. So after exhausting her efforts, she collapsed onto the soft snow. The impact of her body on the ground was gentle, and a spray of clean flakes drifted onto her face, refreshing and cooling. Still, something was wrong. It was too . . . quiet. The front lawn was so empty. And Anna knew why, although she didn’t like to think about it. If Sharie were here, she would have broken the silence that kept Anna forever trapped in her head. She would have let loose her storehouse of silly jokes, filled the frigid air with her ringing laughter. She would have chattered away about starfish and robots and the books that they both liked. Except Sharie wasn’t here, and the only chatter Anna could hear was that of the birds. And it was probably her own fault. *          *          * One year ago . . . “Bye, Anna,” came the voice from the other end of the telephone, and then there was the click of that person hanging up. Anna put down the phone too, then called loudly to her mother: “Can Sharie come over and play today?” She crossed her fingers, then waited for a response. “There’s no school today, so I don’t see why not,” was her mother’s answer. “I’ll check with Sharie’s parents first.” “I can do it,” Anna said hurriedly, because she already had done it, calling Sharie’s house beforehand because she knew her own mother would say yes. This way, Sharie would be able to come over a few minutes sooner, and they would have a few more minutes’ worth of fun. A few more minutes meant a lot more than it sounded. Anna waited anxiously by the door in her coat, hat, and waterproof mittens. When her friend’s familiar car rolled up in front of the driveway, she threw open the door and ran out, yelling. Sharie was there, bundled up in a snowsuit and smiling, as she always did. Anna’s mother came out too, exchanged some quick words with Sharie’s father in the driver’s seat, then took one of the snow shovels propped up against the side of the house as the car drove away. (Sharie’s parents always seemed to be in a rush, Anna had realized some time ago, but she also knew it was scarcely their fault.) But that didn’t matter now. Now, it was time for them to have fun. Anna and Sharie played joyfully in the snow together. They tried to see how high they could throw the snowballs into the sky, instead of at each other, shouting “We’re freeeee!” until crabby Mrs. Rayley from next door yelled at them to stop. They accompanied Anna’s mother in shoveling snow from the front walk, although they soon got distracted before making much progress. They built a snow fort, and even when it collapsed, they didn’t mind. Except Sharie wasn’t here, and the only chatter Anna could hear was that of the birds. And it was probably her own fault. “Let’s have a snowman contest,” Anna suggested, after the two of them had taken a short break from play, lying on the ground and sprinkling snow on each other’s heads. Sharie giggled and nodded enthusiastically, and immediately set about finding a hard chunk of snow to roll around. Anna looked for one too, though it took her a while to find a good piece. When she finally found an icy lump, she packed it over with snow and rolled the snowball over the front yard, around and around. This took quite a