The wind rushes over the endless slopes of grass, like a boundless traveler. His light impulses, like invisible hands, pluck leaves from the tree that dance in the air, creating a colorful whirlwind. The slopes spread under his touch, stirring like an ocean in which every grass is a sailboat ready to set sail.

The wind not only plays with the leaves; he bends the ear of corn to the ground, caresses it like a mother, trying to say something important. And in the sky, under his onslaught, clouds fly like gray ships speeding across the horizon, carrying with them secrets and promises of rain.

Every breath is a melody of nature, intertwined with the rustle of the grasses, like an old song that echoes through time, mesmerizing all who stop to hear it. This is eternity, which seeks to connect heaven and earth in one unique dance. And that name echoes in the loud whispers of mortals, calling out to Sonic every time they feel their hair or fur rise in his wake above.