::Author's Note::

This was part of a challenge we did. We gave each other specific prompts (a setting, a character, and a mood) in order to inspire the other to write their heart out. I was tasked with "Leonardo OR Donatello" "Summer Rain" and "Exciting". I was going for a different look at Leo. Yes he's responsible and yes he's honorable - but the poor man needs so more stories about him...being him.

We would love if you, our lovely readers, would take the time to see if you can guess who wrote this. Yes, independently - now you see our own individual writing styles. Are they that different? Between the two, Anchors Aweigh and This One's for the Winter, who do you think wrote which? Stoic (Jackie) or Harley (Mandy)?

Summary: Once in awhile even the most responsible of people deserve and need a moment of their own. Even if it's just one. After all, being a good leader is achieved through experience.

This One's for the Winter

I gingerly peeled the brown, worn wraps from my wrists and let them flutter into a disheveled pile at my side. On top of the misbegotten fabric, I placed the protective pads from my elbows and knees. One at a time, my katana slipped from their snug beds, as they normally sleep, on my back. Next, my belt and the holsters, which normally house my weapons. I often wonder if they are extensions of me, my katana, as if organically connected to me - or perhaps my soul. Other times they seem foreign, as if a proverbial crutch I rely on too much. That's why they sit with all the other parts that cover me, to keep me from finding solace in anything familiar.

Breathe, Leo...breathe...

I was trying to keep my heart from beating wildly in excited rapture for my freedom. I failed as it hammered against my plastron with such force that I was reminded exactly how alive I really am. This is a lesson I often forget when my focus remains on my brothers, father and family of peripheral humans - such as April and Casey. It somehow slips my mind that I am, indeed, alive. Goals, focus, and the yoke of responsibility distract me from the challenge of experience for nothing more than to experience it. The intrinsic value of learning to live.

I'm trying.

That's why my blood rushes through my veins and my body's shaking from the raw energy tingling in the air around me. Head bowed and two deep breaths later I'm still unsuccessful in my vain attempts at serenity. I had the urge, yet stifled it, to rip my bandana off my head carelessly and pitch it into the air haplessly. It's not easy, at least not as easy as I try to make it appear to my family, to keep myself focused when pending joy exists within my reach. I certainly get eager. I'm fallible. Though not human, I'm certainly a person.

Screw it!

No one was looking. I didn't untie it. I didn't even pretend like I cared to. My mask came off in one swift jerk and I didn't look back to see how long it hung in the air. I was alone. Nature and me free to share in our mutual appreciation for one another. I ran, fast, and pitched myself off the edge of the cliff face and let myself freefall for several seconds, enjoying the wind on my face before I drew my arms up to spearhead my body into the cool, blue pool below. I hit the water like the point of an arrow and enjoyed the feel of the cool lagoon surround me.

Sweet independence.

I miss them. Don't mistake that, but my pleasure is my own today. Yes, I was sent away to learn, to train, to become a better leader, but in that, learning to lead is learning to lead myself. Summer was the perfect time to come south of the equator and as I pulled myself up onto a slate colored rock, aside one of my lesser brethren, I gave in to my instincts and basked. Even as the daily afternoon rain sprinkled us, the sun still peeking out, I realized this would be the best time of my life - the only time I could enjoy the sun, rain, summer and life as it was meant to be.

Through experience.