The Story

Scene 1. Ext. Lake. Day

Saffron's legs dangle effortlessly over The Shimmering Lake, the reflection in the frozen ice, reminds her of those long, elegant flights high above the new, morning sky. She sits on an ancient rock and stares at natures mirror, entwined within her own imagination Saffron's legs swing hypnotically over the delicately balanced ledge.
She glances up, her playful smile morphs from joy to wonder as a face she once knew moves across the morning mist. This face is familiar to her, but as soon as it is there, it is gone.
Saffron is daunted by the very vastness of this valley, the lake is but a pebble, immersed within a desert of white and snow covered trees. There is no concept of time in this forgotten land, no awareness of life, no sun to warm the earth or sky for it to shine, there is nothing, just a fairy without her wings.
A cold chill draws down Saffron's spine. Isolated within her own body, Saffron looks down at the warm air escaping her dry, brittle mouth. She holds it for a second, collecting her thoughts, then after a moment passes, she breathes long and with a sense of understanding. Saffron looks down at her fragile and torn wings, for twenty three years they have loved and kept her, now as she softly inspects their surface, the edges crumble within her fingers. Saffron folds the wings neatly, as if handling a new born baby and delicately rests them into her satchel and fastens the silver clasps.
Now Saffron must concentrate, for she must move quickly out of this valley, it is not a stranger to animals you cannot see and witches whose hearts cannot bleed. A dangerous whisper speaks volumes in this land and a wizard's wish can put you to sleep for a thousand years. But where can she go? And how? And with who? Saffron remembers the coast. There, where the fierce sea shakes the eternal coastline, the air rises strong and true. Saffron remembers the words from her father, echoing through her mind as if they were the westerly, whispering winds themselves. West! They cry, follow the blue sky, follow the footpath, into the wild, where the wild things went.
Slowly Saffron rises to her feet, her legs are heavy and stiff, they buckle as Saffron has never used these legs before, and there is no need for them in the life of a Fairy. Gaining her balance, Saffron raises her arms to the sky, studying the clouds for a moment she pictures her father's loving arms lifting her back to her favourite cloud, where the wind once blew.