High atop a windswept cliff, far from the cozy communal nests of other birds in the valley below, resided Aethel the mountain hawk-eagle. Aethel was a large, bulky eagle of forested hills. Her small head rested above immensely broad wings, and a large, fanned-out tail. A thin upright crest crowned her regal form. Solitary and focused, she fiercely guarded her nest; overlooking flocks of pigeons below. They huddled together in their soft, feathery nests, with their young ones squawking for scraps scavenged from the town square. Unlike them, her eaglets, Soar and Rye, had a different upbringing. She believed in pushing them beyond their comfort zones. Their nest, woven from coarse branches, lacked the softness of feathers or straw that other birds would usually line their nests with, offering a comfortable abode to their young ones. As weeks rolled by, Aethel deliberately introduced prickly thorns in the bed of the nest. This added to the discomfort of the eaglets and they flapped th
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