It was only too soon after he dropped him carefully onto his place on the shelf that he felt the pull. And he was off, escaping to the stage where his puppets hung from their strings. The wind was knocked out of him, a pleasant experience considering he knew what waited on the other side. Harsh winds pulled at his clothes, his hair, his skin. The gusts ripped at his body, stinging him in chilly breezes, hail knocking into his skin till tiny red abrasions appeared on his arms and neck.