Amidst the storm, she stands alone.
Her thoughts are something of a mystery, even to the most learned of men.
It embraces her, with both her failures and her greatest triumphs.
This wind will not cease coming till she stops searching.
"Know where you've been," it whispers.
"Where will you go from here?"
The voices of friends and enemies long gone are carried on the wind,
Tangable as feathers.
"For whom have I lived?" she asks of it.
But the wind is indifferent to her questions
Instead it petitions her. Asking something of her.
She cannot fathom the question.
And so she resumes her endless quest. Her quest for victory over the wind and over herself.
"Never forget what I have told you," the wind whispers finally, and then leaves her pondering their next meeting.
Her mind is a blank nothingness.
Only the memories remain.