Wapun Meadow I still get these simple thrills

She wanted to see Lestan again. Her time with Kvarsheim was thrilling and gratifying in ways she hadn't thought possible for herself anymore, but she was a wanderer and a whimsical girl at heart. Lestan seemed as far away and magical as one of the stories Rose always told her; how could she stay away?
The path to Swiftcurrent Creek felt longer when traveled deliberately. She was careful to avoid the place she knew to be Riverclan's territory, but even so, there were others traveling this route. She detoured to avoid two of the freshest wolf scents she crossed, but by the time she encountered the third, she was resigned and a little curious. This time, she followed the scent — it took her south, away from Swiftcurrent Creek, but that was okay. It would only be a small stop on the way. Lestan would still be there, wouldn't he?
The first thing she noticed about the boy was that he was smaller than her, and she took this to mean that he was younger. He was studying a place where the snow hugged a dark-wooded thicket nearly up to the branches. She drifted to a stop some ways behind him, close enough to be heard when she spoke.
Would you fly over it, if you could? Or would you climb a tree like a squirrel, and jump between the branches? She wondered aloud, her own eyes fixed to the massive pile of snow. She thought she would rather fly.