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Over the years, Cynthia had loved watching the evolution of the kites that flew above Eagle Cove. What they could now make with nylon fabric and plastic parts was magical. For years she had needed binoculars to make out the hand-painted art on the child-tall paper-diamond kites.
Now, even with her failing eyesight, there was no need. The small triangular wing kites were quick, darting splashes of color and little more. Their wings snapped like angry bees in the growing wind. But the new kites were so large and rather than paint, the fabric itself was the kite-builders’ medium.
A brilliant orange octopus was the first big kite aloft. Two stories high with cartoon eyes and eight long legs, it soon flew up until it was staring almost directly at her. She waved at the kite and fancied th
