Cygnet

Cygnet looked on at the other ducklings as they fell in line behind their mother. She would get nipped again if she did not take her place behind the others, but she could not get herself to do so, not again. It just did not feel right.

It wasn’t that she looked different from the other ducklings. You could even say that she appeared identical to them. No, it was something inside of her that rebelled against the duckling ways. She didn’t want to merely bob upon the water, hide her head beneath it, then scrounge for whatever grub the humans deemed worthy of them. She wanted to stretch her wings and fly, both in the sky and across the water. She wanted to be like…like them.

Cygnet’s head craned to the sky as the swans landed gracefully, gliding on the water as though they have made this maneuver a million times before. The swooping of their long, beautiful necks enchanted her, as did the purity of the whiteness of their feathers. The piercing fierceness of their eyes captivated her, and she longed to know the sharpness of their beaks.

Cygnet’s mother nipped her on the rear, quacking and screeching at her to get in line. Cygnet, surprised out of her reverie, lowered her head and fell into her place. She stared at the swans, wanting nothing more than to experience the freedom and peace that they exhumed.

As her mother and siblings drifted down the lake toward the river that fed it, Cygnet stayed looking at the swans. If only, if only…

With one glance at her retreating family, Cygnet swam with all her might toward the bevy of swans. She used all her duckling might to quack at them, and they turned their heads, one by one, to stare at her. Cygnet’s heart raced as fear set in. Would they nip at her for not falling in line, just as her mother did? Would their sharp beaks hurt more than hers?

Slowly, the swans opened their fold to Cygnet. She ruffled her feathers happily and settled in among them, content not to bob but to float, a proud duckling among the swans.