It was a surge of, in retrospect, misplaced confidence which had brought it to this brick nest of madness. Having soared through the yawning holes in its rowan-red walls with precision, it had assumed escape would be trivial. With a great flap of wings, it launched itself onto air and—crash. An imperceptible barrier. How could it have predicted this wanton disregard the laws it knew, or thought, to be immutable: where up was up and air was something you moved through freely. Crash. Crash. Surely, surely, if it just kept trying, it could will the world back into order.
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