13th of Autumn, 513 AV
The sky had called to him as long as he could remember. His earliest memory was of a great Wind Eagle -- Xarrt -- cupping him gingerly in his massive talons and soaring high into the sky. Xarrt had spoken to his mind that day, and though he had been just a child, the words still rang clear as ever.
"Do you see the land far below? Do you see the horizon far distant? Do you see the clouds, and the snow and rain and wind and ice that they carry? This, my child, may one day be yours. Though you may never rule this land from throne and palace, you may rule it in spirit. I feel that you can become great, become -- dare I say it -- perfect. But perfect in the sense that matters: you can learn the perfection of the heart, mind, and spirit. You have a long road before you, but remember this, keep it bound within the unfathomable storehouses of the heart, and it will serve you far better than all the training this world can give you."
Later that day his teacher had required him to write down the best thing anyone had said to him that week. Most of his peers had written childish drivel, but he had diligently copied down everything Xarrt had told him. Now, he wondered if Xarrt had planned that...