Answer:
In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.
My thunder comes before the lightning. My lightning comes before the clouds. My rain dries all the land it touches.
I march before armies, a thousand salute me. My fall can bring victory, but no one would shoot me. The wind is my lover, one-legged am I. Name me and see me at home in the sky.
What asks but never answers?
What can you throw but not catch?
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?