Anxiously he waited, scratching at the cage. Wings beating, restless to soar. The girl would be back soon. He knew it in his bones. She would set him free.

The warm sun was beginning to rise. He liked how it chased away the shadows—and with them, his fear.

Dew glimmered on the grass like delicate diamonds. Heather scent was carried on the breeze past him cage.

Then there were the calls of his kin, singing of freedom and joy. He loathed them for their songs. He hated their ignorance, unaware of his imprisoned state. They sang of all he could not have, of all he dreamed to be. Years of waiting had broken him. His wings more red then white. Confined for so long he’d forgotten how to fly.

But still he waited for the coming dawn. A dawn when he would be free.