1On top of a wide, sunny hill, an old stone windmill turned its four wooden arms in slow, lazy circles. The grass was soft and green, and a warm breeze moved through it like a long, happy sigh.
2Sonic stood at the base of the windmill, his red shoes planted in the grass, his green eyes bright with an idea. "Let's race," he said, "but not the usual kind."
3They found four round stones and placed them at equal spots around the windmill path, each one a marker where a racer had to stop and wait three whole breaths before moving on.
4The breeze lifted. Tails closed his eyes and felt it brush against his fur. He spread his two tails wide — not to fly, just to feel — and learned which way the air curved around the old stone walls.
5At the first marker stone, Sonic stopped. One breath. Two breaths. Three. His feet fidgeted. His quills prickled. Waiting was the hardest thing he had ever done.
6Around the curve, Tails paused too. He watched the breeze skip between the windmill's arms and ripple the tall grass. He held his two tails out for balance and let the air tell him: there is no hurry here.
7"Don't slow down," said Sonic, grinning. "I mean — don't speed up. I mean —" "I know what you mean," said Tails, and they both laughed beneath the long golden shadow.
8They walked the last curve side by side, past the third marker and the fourth, neither one ahead, neither one behind.
9When they reached the starting stone again, Sonic spread his white-gloved hands wide. "So — who won?"
10Tails looked at Sonic, then the spinning windmill, then the wide green hill. "Ask me again tomorrow," he said. "I think I want to race you one more time."
