The wind rustles; spinning the dark-green oak leaves down onto the mud covered floor, as a young girl desperately tries to cling on to a twisted branch perched to the right of the topiary. Her hands squeeze the rough gristly bark of the oak so hard that her knuckles turn white. As she hoists her own body weight up, she kicks her legs frantically from above trying to steady herself. She soon places herself on top of the tree branch, and sighs in content, as she hovers her nose above the ground, sniffing in the fresh crisp aroma of flowers and pollen. From above, she can hear the loud caws of the crows, projecting their voices onto the sky as if it were a megaphone. She sees the raven birds outstretch their slender black wings, flying off
