Zephy lay crumpled on the grass at the top of the hill. His paper wings were knotted and his tail string was tied in a silly loop. "This won't do at all," he sighed.
A butterfly fluttered past and landed on his crooked tail. It wiggled its wings like it was trying to untangle him. Zephy watched, wondering if she could help.
Zephy tried to launch himself. He ran downhill but tripped over his tangled tail and tumbled into clover. Leaves stuck to his wet paper wings.
He pulled himself upright and shook the leaves from his wings. The wind whistled through the grass like a tune he could almost sing along to. "Maybe next time," he whispered.
Zephy tried again. He ran harder with his wings spread wide, but the wind flipped him inside out. He bumped into a dandelion clock with a soft thump.
A puff of white seeds exploded and floated over the meadow like tiny parachutes. Zephy blinked in the seed-cloud and tried one more time.
Zephy tilted his nose up and ran with all his might. The wind caught his wings—not a push, but a gentle hand lifting him. He dipped, he swirled, he looped.
The meadow stretched out below him in green and gold. For the first time, Zephy wasn't fighting the wind. He was dancing with it. "I've found my way," he whispered.