Zea
In Nine, saying “it’s windy” is like saying “grass is green.” It’s always windy. Zea’s heard that in Seven they have a hundred names for kinds of snow, and it would sound silly if she didn’t already have so many names for different kinds of wind.
There’s the cool breezes on hot days in late spring, when the sun warms her skin and the wind keeps her from sweating. There’s steady summer wind, blowing the wheat into rolling waves and rustling in the leaves of the trees at the Depot. There’s thunderstorm wind, coming up out of nowhere on strangely still afternoons, shockingly cool, rain-scented and wild. There’s the cold wind out of the north in the fall, a reminder to get the last of the winter wheat in before the snow falls. Blizzard winds, blocked by the buildings in the City but wild and bitter when she was a kid in Fairview. The warm breeze breathing Spring back into the District, bringing a promise of movement and life and green.