The Boat…

 

By Lisa Ayling

There was once a boat. The boat was unique, crafted from aged wood grown in a beautiful forest. The grains of the wood running like fingerprints throughout were a quiet reminder that this boat, even though similar in appearance to some, was like no other: it was truly unique.

The boat was independent, over the years it had charted its way through many waters, exploring the changing, undulating landscapes and taking in the views along the way. All the time learning the craft of moving elegantly through the water. The boat had many passengers on its journey, some whom stayed a while, others who conversed fleetingly from the banks. The boat was proud, it used its sails and rudder to work with the ebb and flow of the water and the changing breeze, gliding seemingly effortlessly at pace towards the horizon.

One day the wind had dropped (this had happened before) and the boat almost came to a stop, but as the conditions around it changed it found more time to take in the views that had gone unnoticed along the way.

Whilst sitting, almost still, on the smooth glasslike water, the boat was joined by a majestic eagle who swooped effortlessly down and perched on the edge of the boat. The eagle asked the boat if it could rest a while, it explained that the still conditions were making it more challenging for it to travel large distances and see everything from above, so it would wait for conditions to change before continuing its long, majestic journey.
The boat asked whether the Eagle always needed to travel so high above the landscape? “Why, of course” it responded, “how else can I progress if I can’t see great distances from above and see what lies ahead on the distant horizon?” The boat pondered this statement, and after passing the time of day a little longer bid farewell to the Eagle as it continued on its’ journey.

The boat was enjoying the delicate view as it gently bobbed along a new stretch of the river. Coming close to the banks it could see new flora emerging from
its winter sleep: a whole new landscape. Peering out between two emerging buds  a mouse moved nimbly along. The boat greeted the mouse and welcomed it aboard so that it could rest a while.
The mouse thanked the boat and commented on how quickly they seemed to be gliding along the banks “but we are barely moving” smiled the boat. The mouse gazed on in wonder, observing the banks as they passed from the boat. After a while it thanked the boat “you have taken me further in this short time than I could have traveled in the whole day!” and it nimbly returned to the banks, renewed and rested.

The breeze picked up a little and the little boat’s sail once again embraced the warm air. As the boat resumed its journey it glanced up at the expansive sky, and considered the path of the majestic eagle, then at the banks bursting with life and thought of the nimble mouse, then looked ahead and set its course. This time the boat noticed how smooth the water felt, how warm the breeze was and how much more could be seen on its own horizon.

The Path of the Rainbow

 

By Alison Roberts

Let me tell you about a distant land, an enchanting place full of magic and discovery.

It was a place of beauty: The trees were forever in blossom, fragrant petals drifting through the air, tickling the faces of all who lived there, perfuming the atmosphere. The air was quiet, devoid of wind, rain or any sound but the delicate chirping of colourful birds that soared the sky, never leaving the confines of this paradise. The sun and moon were in constant conversation; their established dance controlling the gentle flow and ebb of tides, bringing fish and feeding all who lived there. It was a place of peace and calm, a place of such contentment and appreciation that nobody yearned for more; nobody questioned if there was anything else. What more could anyone want? In this place of magic, there was no discussion, no challenge, no heated conversation; just one viewpoint, a shared knowledge which everyone believed was all there was to know.

Surrounded by water and without any form of modern technology the inhabitants of this isle were content to look up to the sky, learning about their world from the moon, the sun and the ancient stars above – their teaching never varied; it followed the same rhythm, and the accepting pupils listened day in, day out. Faces turned to the sky, they listened. The direction of their gaze did not waver – they looked up, but never out, never around.

And so life continued in this way.

One day there was a change. The inhabitants of this island woke up to a sudden chill, the sky was darker and droplets of water fell from above like tears. The people ran out in confusion. They looked upwards for reassurance when through the glimmer of the sun’s rays, they spotted a gentle arc of colour, a myriad of faded blue, indigo red, green and yellow. It shimmered softly and everyone looked up in awe, squinting to see more.

The ancient stars looked down, their light dimming next to the wondrous beauty of this young rainbow. From above they could also see what the others could not. The colours did not fade, but seemed to glow strongly and curved majestically across the ocean, touching the soil of a distant land in a golden glow of treasure.

In that moment the sun, moon and stars knew that the path to the future had arrived and a time of new knowledge and opportunity was beginning. This young arc of beauty would provide the path to a new perspective, something they had not been able to do.

Embarrassed by the gaze of these ancient forces, the young rainbow bowed down with respect and humility, urging them to continue their stories, humble about her own powers, not believing the part she was to play in the future of this magical island and the beings that existed on it.

Days passed. More and more rain fell and the jade green grass and jewel like flowers began to drown in the rivers and streams that had erupted. The people stumbled in clods of earth, not knowing how to save themselves, looking up to the stars for guidance – still looking up, not out or around for a solution. They were alone, stranded, oblivious to the other land which beat with life just a short distance away.

The ancient stars were desperate. Their powers were fading and they knew they did not hold the answer to the horrific situation below. With certainty they knew that new direction was needed – only a new perspective, a fresh approach would change the fate developing below.

Together the ancient stars urged the rainbow to believe in herself and her own powers. Together they urged the rainbow to change the fate of their people. Their thoughts and encouragement combined with such force that they suddenly illuminated the sky, before vanishing forever.

In that moment of illumination, the colours of the rainbow appeared like a solid path, concrete, enticing. For the first time the people’s eyes moved to the right and to the left, following the arc of this path. As their eyes moved, so did their feet and soon they were standing on curve of the rainbow. For the first time they saw the world from a different angle – they could look down, around, across. They could see out and their perspective was changed forever. Hypnotised, they continued the journey across the spectrum of colour before their feet touched new land, new opportunity. A new future opened up and the people looked around, eager to learn more. They moved forward into a land of noise, debate, excitement and challenge, thrilled by the prospects in front of them. And as they moved onwards, the rainbow delivered each and every one with a golden nugget of knowledge that they would never relinquish.

The Mouse & the Owl

 

 By Jenny Gaughan

There was once a little mouse, who was kindly and unassuming. She loved to help others by sharing her own knowledge and wisdom but she couldn’t help feel something was lacking. The little mouse wondered what she needed to do to be better at helping, how could she be kinder, how could she make sure she was saying the rights things to others to help them? What could she do to make a bigger difference to others and their lives? She pondered so much that she decided to visit the wise old Owl who lived in the old oak tree. ‘ excuse me Wise old Owl?’ Said the little mouse… The wise old Owl awoke from her daytime slumber. ‘What can I do to be get better at helping others? How can I be a better listener who always knows the right things to say to help? How can I share my knowledge better so that other will listen and really learn from me?’

The wise old owl thought for a minute ‘Hmm she said, I think all you need to do is find the jewels and let them shine’. At this the owl was so tired, her eyes closed and she went back to her usual daytime nap. Slightly confused, the mouse set about on a treasure hunt…’find the jewels’ she thought. Where do I even start? At this she packed a bag and left the village and off she went on an adventure, imagining the shining emeralds, diamonds, rubies and sapphires she may soon have. Over the next few years, mouse travelled hundreds of miles, visiting many villages, towns & cities along the way. She met so many villagers, many were curious about her treasure hunt and they enjoyed listening to her adventures and stories of her travels. Some villagers were hostile and Mouse had to work a little harder with those villagers, even taming the scariest of creatures helping them to trust her, and over time, the little mouse knew exactly what to do when she wasn’t welcome in a village or was faced with hostility, she studied others, listening hard and watching them carefully, and eventually she found she could break down any barriers she faced and have a warm meal and somewhere to rest while delighting the villagers with her stories and in turn learning about their lands and cultures.

Over the years, news of the little mouse travelled far and wide she was welcomed wherever she went by those eager to learn from her, curious about her knowledge of other lands she had discovered in her hunt for treasure. However, no matter where she went, nobody could really tell her what she was looking for, there were stories about sunken ships, pirate treasure and secret maps but despite her searching, she never found any jewels. Eventually she grew tired of her travels and defeated, decided to go home. Disheartened, she once again visited the wise old Owl. ‘Wise old Owl, she said, I have travelled far and wide over land and sea, I’ve encountered so many dangers and so many delights but I am weary now and need to rest. Please tell me where the jewels are that you speak of?’

The wise old Owl opened her eyes, with a big yawn she wearily started to speak, but the little mouse stopped her speaking in her tracks ‘Oh I’m sorry’, said the little mouse….’should I come back when you’re a little less tired, I can see you’re exhausted, perhaps it’s a bad time to talk?’

With this the wise old Owl spoke, ‘It’s very kind of you to notice that I’m not my best during the day, in fact, I remember being so tired last time we spoke, I didn’t even finish what I was saying about where the jewels were…..and well, you never asked… never mind… I’m so glad you seem to have enjoyed your travels and have learned so much… I guess you never really needed my advice afterall. I can see the jewels are shining brighter than I could have ever imagined’.  With this the Owl went back to her nap.

34 Hillyside Lane

 

By Gillian Davies

It was here again: the annual garden competition at Hillyside Lane.

In the weeks creeping up to this heralded day, every resident was decked out in their armour of gardening tools, gloves, and boots. But there was only one gardener who was a champion in pulling up the ranks of his flowers at sharp speed: and that was Howarth. Every year, as the competition neared, Howarth would loudly traipse his boots across his grass with the thunderous roar of his latest gtech cordless lawn mower. This year however, his artillery was even stronger. After purchasing a new razorsharp cutter, he swiftly ended the progress of any flower which looked too feeble to be on his canvas. Every day, during his meticulous inspections, he interrupted the natural calm of his soil by loudly hacking and churning at it. This made his soil appear fresh at the surface but it covered its unhappy dried-up texture below. On the day before the competition, he sat back on his chair with music blaring out. He watched whilst a robotic model 2590xpower trimmer, growled across the edges of his grass shaving off any threatening imperfections.

Howarth spotted John next door who was also loudly cutting his lawn and Howarth screamed over
“I’ve picked up this super strength miracle gro John it’ll bring the grass up to a blinding green in no time!”

John nodded at Howarth but was not listening because his podcast on ‘super strength gardening’ was pummelling his eardrums. Julie, on the opposite garden, glared over at the men and joined the cacophony of sound. She clicked on her jet washer as it blasted any remnant of soil on her patio. But whilst glaring over at the men, she had not realised that she had mutilated her daffodils in the path of the jetwasher.

Howarth stood up and poured the ‘miracle gro’ over every speck of grass. The soil was so drunk on chemicals that a bee, which had landed to help out his flowers, quickly diverted its flight from the stench.

The bee buzzed away from the whirlwind of sounds. It landed on a group of roses and accompanied many other bees who knew that this was the place to be: number 34 Hillyside Lane. Tucked away at the end of the road, this garden grew in abundance and was a quiet oasis of colour. The grass grew at different heights and shades. Ivy had been allowed to freely stretch up the face of the house like a large “go” sign for nature to arrive. Birds nestled themselves in the bushes and their melodic chirpings would now and then punctuate the silence here. Flurries of bees congregated here too. And so, this was a garden of growth where some flowers were bending over, some were withered but showed off their bright petals and some were quietly making their progress drinking from the sun and moist soil.

Mr Remember

By Sara Close

 

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin.

Mr Remember lived in Memory town. He was a thoughtful fellow who loved to think and wanted to preserve each and every moment. It is good to think. It is therefore not a surprise, you will agree, that he worked in the town archives recording and conserving key events.

He often found that he brought his work home with him. Not in the way that you or I would bring home an assignment. Instead, he found his work became an extension of himself. He became he his work and his work became him.

Think, preserve, repeat. Think, preserve, repeat. Think, preserve, repeat.

It started small, like a tiny, little seed; insignificant and unnoticeable. They say the best ideas start out small. So do the worst. Over time it grew and as it grew the roots took hold. It sprouted new shoots and was no longer a tiny, little seed. Fully formed it became established. Think, preserve, repeat.

To put it simply, his work was to record events. But at home he recorded ideas. Some were brilliant, bright, beautiful sparks of genius. We all have these and I’m sure you can see the benefit of recording them. These where the seeds of hope he began with. A post it note here or there with a revelation. He grew confident and with this confidence he told himself you must write more. So he did. Soon every idea he ever thought had to be written down. The house became decorated with ideas. More and more cluttering and choking the walls. He wrote so much he couldn’t see the wood for the trees; the idea for the post it notes.

He knew he had had a good thought, but it became it lost. He started to read through what he had written. He couldn’t find what he wanted. As he despaired he continued to write, for what else could he do. These were not the flames of imagination that at first ignited his passion. Dark negative thoughts. I can’t do this. I am no good at.  I tried, but it’s rubbish. He thought and he wrote, he wrote and he thought. Out of control he knew it must stop.

It is a good thing that Mr Remember was a close friend with Mr Tidy, the cleaner, at work and he noticed a marked change. As he cleaned Mr Remember’s office he found that it too had been covered with post it notes. Each negative idea persevered and looming over. The windows covered with negative thoughts no light could come in. It was stifling. Things needed to change.

Mr Tidy took his friend for a walk. Whilst cleaning he had uncovered under an array of negative messages some sparks of inspiration. Confronted with these truths of I can, I shall and I will it was clear that there was talent. He had achievements and successes. Things had to change. He must own his thoughts. I did and I can.

A seed needs nurture: planting, water, warmth, sunlight. If you plant it in shade it will not grow. If you pile rocks on top, the shoots with stumble. If you tell the seed it will fail, it will fail.

Returning from their walk it was clear what had to be done. Dustpan and brush in hand was time for a spring clean. They were going to take back control.

 

The Blue-Black Bowerbird

 

By Kay McNee

Jake was a black bowerbird who lived on the Eastern side of the majestic Mount Bromo in Indonesia.

The Old Chief bowerbird – Chief Harry – had recently left to lead a flock on another mountain, and Jake had been elected as the new Chief, but his initial feelings of pride and excitement about his role were gradually being replaced with feelings of apprehension and a growing sense of pressure.

As Chief, Jake was expected to set an example for the other male bowerbirds on Mount Bromo when it came to attracting a mate – the others would follow his lead and act as he directed them, with the intention of the whole flock finding partners and continuing the survival of their species. Bowerbird numbers were falling across the world, and there was an underlying fear of extinction that lurked just below the surface of every flock meeting. Old Chief Harry had achieved great success in improving bowerbird figures on Mount Bromo, but rather than reassuring Jake, this fact only served to instil a sense of inferiority within him.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for this”, Jake confided in his friend Brown Eagle. “They all think Old Chief Harry was the best Chief we’ve ever had. They have no confidence in me”.

“What makes you think that?” asked Brown Eagle.

“I just know. I hear them talking all the time about it”.

“You hear who talking?”

“I don’t know, all of them. Anyway, I’ve got a few ideas which I’m going to try. Thanks for chatting Brown Eagle”.

The next day, Jake put his first idea to the test. He flew down to the lake and strutted around the edge, puffing his black chest out and parading himself in the hope that potential partners would be impressed by the immense power he effortlessly exuded. They weren’t. Puffing out his chest got him nowhere. It was back to the drawing board.

On the second day, Jake flew back to the lake and perched on the edge before performing a song. Rumour had it that previous Chiefs had wooed potential partners using song. Jake wasn’t exactly sure where these rumours started, or which specific Chiefs had been successful with this method, but, he thought, this rumour had been running for years, so it was highly likely to be true. It wasn’t. His song got him nowhere. It was back to the drawing board.

On the third day, Jake arrived at the lake with his best idea yet. The other bowerbirds still talked about Old Chief Harry’s famous dance routine – by all accounts, a mesmerising dance that had potential partners queueing up for him. Jake began the dance, remembering all of Old Harry’s steps. It still wasn’t working – potential partners were either ignoring him or laughing at him. ‘If it worked for Old Harry, why isn’t it working for me?’ Jake sighed. He would dance for 1 more minute, then go back to the drawing board.

But suddenly, from behind him came a flash of piercing, electric blue. He stopped dancing and the colour went away. Intrigued, he started dancing again – bowerbirds around the lake had now stopped what they were doing and were looking over at him. The more he danced, the more the shocking blue seemed to flash and swirl in the air. Where was it coming from? Bowerbirds around the lake were now surrounding him, cheering and clapping.

As Jake turned around, he realised that his tail feather had opened out during the dance – that beautiful blue was the blue of his own tail!

‘How had I never noticed that before?’ wondered Jake. ‘It must have been in me the whole time’.

The Three Brothers

By Liam Gibson

There once were three brothers in a kingdom lost in distant time. The king of the kingdom was a brave, resilient, intelligent man. One day the king summoned the brothers to his chambers. For he wasn’t long for this world.

Each of the brothers emulated a skill of the king. One brother was courageous. His courage had earnt him many follows in any potential race to become an heir. The second brother was strong. His strength again had earnt him many follows if an heir ever needed to be selected. Though, living in a kingdom the eldest son was the heir of the throne. The eldest brother was a wise man. This wisdom he believed had earnt him few followers. He doubted his own ability to be strong and his own capability to be courageous. He doubted his ability to protect the kingdom in any potential attack from a far and distant enemy.

One day the three brothers were walking along the path away from the kingdom when suddenly they came across a crossroads. The eldest brother knew that these two brothers with their strength would rise to any challenge any of the routes would present. The eldest brother watched as the strong brother walked swiftly straight ahead. Strength oozing from ever muscle in his body. The second brother took left. As the second brother walked expeditiously into the distance the eldest brother noted his courage beaming from his body as a bright light illuminating the path.

The eldest brother, being a wise man had learnt through research that the path straight ahead would lead the strong brother to a large stream with torrents of water charging through the channel. Strewn through the channel were a collection of flattened boulders and overhead were an assembly of branches. In order to cross the torrent, the brother would have to leap and lunge across the fragmented path. The wise brother knew the strength of his brother would allow him too safely cross and this he did.

The next brother bearing left, was faced with a large clump of trees entwined with one another. The darkened forest would surely be home to an array of creatures and existences. This again, the eldest brother knew. Yet again the eldest brother knew that his courageous sibling would make it through the darkened forest without harm. This again was true.

The path bearing right, was in no corpus found within the kingdom’s libraries. The thought of facing torrents of waters from the gushing stream as well as the entangled forest filled the eldest brother with fear and dread. Maybe if he faced the waters and jungles unknown, he could muster the strength and courage needed to cross unscathed. Surely there were reasons for the absence of the right path. As the eldest brother took right, he heedfully paced along the path staying alert to whatever this path would throw at him.

The two brothers who fearlessly marched along the seemingly unknown paths met up a little later that day. They boasted to each other about the volumes of strength and courage they have to show to pass their obstacles. They also jeered at the eldest brother’s incapability to cross either of the perils.

A little time later the eldest brother still continuing gingerly along the right path came across the torrent of water he knew his sibling had faced earlier in the day. Facing the challenge unknown, the brother charged forward like a lion across the fragmented crossing over the river. A little later the eldest brother came across an entangled forest similar to the one the courageous brother had triumphantly conquered earlier. Warily the eldest brother trekked through the mass of entangled woodland. The brother continued on the unknown path until later that evening he was also united with his brothers. The other brothers were eagerly awaiting the eldest brother to remark that the right-hand path was a simple easy route to take, for they believed that he wouldn’t have the strength or courage to face their obstacles. The eldest brother humbly retold the tale of the wise man pouncing like a lion over the fragmented path crossing the river and charging boldly through entangled forest.

After the demise of the king the eldest brother ruled with strength, courage and wisdom successfully for many years. It came a day when the king retold the story to his three sons. “You have everything you will ever need. You just haven’t found it yet”.

The Badger and the Robin

By Caroline Brier

The water shimmered and glistened, lapping at the edge of the lake.  You could see the clear reflections of the surrounding trees projecting as far out into the water as they stood tall reaching for the clear blue sky.

Sat at the water’s edge Badger sighed heavily at the thought of his long walk around the lake to get back to his set on the other side.  As you can imagine, it was a beautifully scenic journey and each day Badger made the same journey right around the edge.  However in Badgers eyes the path was dull and he was board of repeating the same old route.

As he looked at his miserable reflection in the water, down flew Robin.  ‘Badger, I’ve been watching you day after day, week after week, month after month and I have to ask you – why do you make the same journey every day?’.  ‘I have no choice’ replied Badger.  ‘I have to visit the rabbit family in the morning, the squirrel family at lunch time and then the otter family in the afternoon before returning home… it’s just the way it is’.

‘What if it wasn’t’ muttered Robin, taking flight.  Badger watched her glide one way then the other, out to the middle of the lake and then back, up high in the sky and back down, before settling down beside him again.  Badger smiled at Robin, stood a little taller and went on his way, walking with a little more spring in his step.

The next day Badger walked the opposite way round the lake.  The forest animals struggled with this change to start with.  As the days went on they didn’t know which direction or what time they would see Badger.

Robin flew around the forest singing ‘if you always do what you’ve always done you will always get what you always got’.  Badger decided to take the boat into the middle of the lake and watch the ripples move across the water all the way back to the shore.

Joey’s Story

By Louise Jeffery

Joey hadn’t seen a crowd like this before, let alone heard so much noise and chatter. So many people waiting on the platform for the carriages to arrive.  Mothers and fathers waving off their children, and loved ones not knowing when they would be reunited.

There was a sense of excitement, but also anticipation. For no-one really knew what lay ahead. Parents were putting on their stiff upper lip whilst trying to remain light-hearted, and fight back the tears.  The young men and women were keen and eager to get on with the job.

Joey had no idea what was about to face him. Here he was about to give up his quiet country life. The green fields all around where he lived, the bright blue skies, the birds singing and the flowers and trees in full bloom.   Joey was loved by his family and was well known by all his neighbours. He was very popular.

Little did he know the reality of what was to come. The journey was long and bumpy.  The carriages were crowded and smelly, but worse was to follow. Everything was dark….   He felt as though the light had been turned out and he was seeing the world in monochrome. But it wasn’t just the lack of colour, the warm texture of the grass had been replaced by the slippery ground. The mud was the worst. Trenches full of dirty water, where men lived for weeks and months.  Everything was done in those trenches. Eating, sleeping, washing, toileting. Then came the rats.  The stench.

This was a long way from home.  After a while the colour drained from Joey’s memory. No more green fields or yellow flowers. The sounds of the birds were replaced by gun fire. Even the sky was grey. The men’s clothes were a browny grey, the food was beige and the mood reflected their surroundings.  Occasionally the men would sing or play games but spirits were generally low.

There were regular loud bangs and the sky would light up a brilliant white. The fences that Joey was so familiar with at home had been replaced by barbed wire…. Awful sharp wires that would stick into your flesh and rip you apart. And then there was the gas… a strange sensation that would sting your eyes and affect your breathing.

The only other colour around was the white of the nurses uniforms… and often it was stained a vivid red.

Where was this hell?

Joey had many jobs in the years he spent here… he was one of the stronger guys, so he was used to haul the guns, often up to 12 of them for each gun. He was used to working alongside his friends transporting the men and the ammunition. But his friends were becoming less and less.

But Joey had a fighting spirit and he wouldn’t let this place beat him.  He was determined to survive and he had to support his colleagues.

Eventually, one day to Joey’s surprise the bangs stopped. The troops started to cheer and hugged each other and their horses. Joey was free to return home.  He was going home minus a lot of friends but he’d learnt a lot and would appreciate everything he’d previously left behind.

(Britain lost over 484,000 horses in World War 1 – one horse for every two men.

Eight million horses, donkeys and mules died; three-quarters of them from the extreme conditions they worked in.)

The Golden Eagle

By Inga Whittaker

Once upon a time, there lived a majestic Golden Eagle. He was the King of the Sky. He was such a beautiful bird, his wings were strong and wide and he would fly miles and miles each day to hunt, to look out for danger, to play or simply enjoy the view from above.

Everything looked different when he was up in the sky…

One day in an unfortunate accident he broke his left wing. He was told by Dr Eagle that it will be impossible for his wing to heal completely.

The Golden Eagle was sad and worried and this was really bringing him down. He lost his hope to ever fly again and missed flying to the sky whenever he wanted to. Days passed by… weeks passed by… months passed by…

He was well looked after by his family and his flock who made sure the Golden Eagle was fed and felt safe. The Eagle was bored so he was going for walks every day and doing all sorts of exercise just to be doing something.

He felt comfortable and safe but he never stopped wondering how different his life could have been if he would be able to fly again. He knew ho to fly but he felt that his broken wing would hold him back. This was now the only thing he was focusing on… how broken his wing was.

One day he was taking his daily walk to the nearby cliff when he met the Wise Robin. Robin asked what happened to the Eagle as he is looking very down. The Golden Eagle told the Wise Robin about his broken wing and his lost hope to fly again.

The Wise Robin listened carefully to the Eagle and said: “In the absence of hope, sometimes you need to create it. If you believe you can never fly again, then you are not even attempt to fly again. You must believe that you can achieve what you imagined to and by focusing on that you will set yourself free to achieve it.”

The Golden Eagle was deep in thoughts about Robin’s words and for the first time his thoughts were focused on something else but his broken wing. He did not notice how he stepped over cliffs edge… he instinctively opened his wings and there he was, flying again towards the Sun.