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A young hooded crow, patched softly in her nest. She was elegant with glossy black wings,

and a black head and beak. The rest of her body was covered in grey feathers. Her back

was a dark, storm-cloud grey, and she had a soft pale grey on her belly. When her feathers

caught the sunlight, they occasionally flashed silver and green. This crow lived a long,

long time ago. She built her nest on the edge of a golden cliff, overlooking the crystalline

blue waters of the sea. She spent her days soaring over the beach, searching for bits of seaweed

to add to her nest. Or she chatted with the neighbouring birds, who made their homes

in the different nooks and crannies along the cliff.

It was a beautiful, peaceful existence. There was food and water in abundance, and nothing

she had to fear. She lived her life she had always known, with the sun and the sea, and

the long, lazy days of what felt like a turnal summer. But one day, she became aware of a

change in the environment. Sitting in her nest, she noticed a subtle shift in the sea

air. It was cooler than before, no longer the soft, refreshing summer breeze, but a wind

that felt almost cold. The crow shivered in her nest and buried herself in a blanket

of moss. The summer was all she had ever known. Now that cooler weather was arriving,

she would have to find another place to nest, at least for the next season. She would

then come back to the coast the following year for another glorious summer. After tidying

up her nest, the crow took flight. She sawed up into the air and took one final lingering

...