The wind cut through the creature, holding it at bay for a moment.

Those mach four winds would have cut him in half.

The day was ending; the thin wind cut her like a knife.

The wind wasn't cutting into him so much now, and the temperature was rising.

After that trauma the wind had cut away at things, leaving behind only these hard hills.

The wind cut him like a knife and he did not feel it.

The air was bone dry, but at least the wind wasn't cutting his skin down here.

A hard wind cut into those parts of his face not covered by scarves.

The old man shrugged his shoulders as if a cold wind had cut through him.

He had known how the wind would cut through his clothes.