A cold wind blows, not as hard as it did a few hours earlier, when it almost knocked me over on a downtown street corner. But hard enough.
Now the wind is more of a companion, a negative force, something that keeps you company by keeping you on your toes. It blows my hair off my face, ruffles Copper's fir ever so lightly. He's unfazed by its presence.
Soon we reach the turn-around point. Now the wind is behind us, blowing my hair into my face. Now the wind is behind us, pushing us home.