On the very top of a very tall mountain, in a nest made of sticks and soft things, there lived a young eagle named Ella.
Ella had big wings.
Beautiful wings.
Wings that her mother said were made for flying.
But Ella would not fly.
Not even a little bit.
“What if I fall?” said Ella.
“Eagles don’t fall,” said her mother.
“But what if I’M the first one?”
Her mother didn’t have an answer for that. 🦅
🏔️ The Edge
Every morning, Ella’s brothers and sisters lined up at the edge of the nest.
Ready. Set.
Whoooosh.
Off they went, one by one, into the big blue sky.
Ella watched.
Her tummy did a flip.
Her toes curled around the edge of the nest.
She looked down at the mountain far, far below.
Nope.
She stepped back.
“Tomorrow,” said Ella.
But tomorrow came. And Ella said tomorrow again.
Tomorrow has a habit of doing that.
💛 Scarlett on the Mountain
Scarlett was hiking with a grown-up when they spotted the nest.
And in the nest, one small eagle, sitting very still while all the others soared.
“Why isn’t that one flying?” said Scarlett.
“Maybe she’s not ready yet,” said the grown-up.
Scarlett thought about that.
Scarlett knew things you weren’t ready for yet. Everyone did.
🦅 Her Own Terms
That evening, when everyone else was asleep, Ella walked to the edge of the nest alone.
No one watching.
No one counting.
No one saying go.
She looked at the sky.
The sky looked back.
She opened her wings — just a little — and felt the wind slide underneath.
Oh.
She opened them a little more.
Oh!
And then — before she even decided — she was in the air.
Not falling.
Flying.
She flew one circle around the mountain and came back to the nest.
Her heart was going very fast.
But she was smiling.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll do two circles.” 🦅