A bird sat proudly atop a canyon, wings folded neatly behind it. It glanced downward and saw nothing but mist and the unknown. It cocked its head and snapped its beak impatiently. The bird leaped suddenly and spread its golden wings allowing the breeze to carry it upward and towards a new life.

But not for long. Drops of cold rain fell from the sky, as arrows shoot from a castle under seige. The bird panics as the drops pound relentlessly against its wings. Feathers are wrenched from wing, revealing scaley flesh. The brid falls. A horrible ripping of flesh and bone can be heard for miles as the bird is caught on a shard of rock.

Moments pass. Or perhaps years. and the rain continues to fall. Using all of its remaining strength, the bird pulls itself to shelter. It falls into a painful and dreamless sleep. When it awakens there is no sun but at least there is no rain. It glances at itself to find a thin fuzz of gold. A glint returns to its eye and it begins a slow ascent back to the top of the canyon.