I feel the life within and around me with fierce joy. It is a glorious morning. Dew sparkles like living diamonds on the grass and the air is bright. Waking to such a day is pure pleasure. I stretch out my forelegs, rousing muscles stiff from sleep, and flex my wings. I strike the ground and a stream is born, pooling around my hoof, one of my father’s more useful gifts.
I drink, admiring my rippling reflection and then break my fast; the grass is young here and sweet and there are apples on the trees.
Once I have eaten, I set about preening my feathers… a laborious task, but necessary. There is an itch, just there on the leading edge. I twist around to reach it, a most ungainly position for one such as I… and find that I am being watched.
Beyond the spring, there is a young…
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