You rise into the air on a dance of thermals, some of the last for the evening, and the world stretches out below you like a canvas.

The sights are familiar: Your tree, a lonely bastion, stands guard at the boundary of land and sea. Grasslands stretch back behind it for several miles before there are any others of it's kind- but then they converge into a thick forest that covers the horizon. Their dark leaves in the distant forest stand stark against the swirling patterns of the wind-swept grass, seeming to glow in the low light to your delicate eyes.

It is so good to be in the air again.

Along the plains, the cliffside that drops down at your burrow's feet is a stark change- chalky white stone falling a few hundred feet to the ocean below, where dark waves touch on glittering pale sand. Along the coastline the cliffs stretch on, with curious pillars and sheltered coves scattered at random. Far far off in the distance, hazy mountains peek up from the curve of the horizon, tempting you further out from home.

Everything is a temptation, here. The ripples of the wind on the ocean waves and rolling fields alike are mesmerizing, and you soar in tune to the ebbing rythm of the world. Some nights, you feel you could fly forever.

Where would you like to go?

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