Anna's egg was spewed forth by a gigantic volcano in one of it's larger eruptions. The sky was raining orange and yellow flames and the egg tumbled down the slope. It gently landed on the ground at the base, in a small pool of red-hot fire. It was unscathed, not a scratch or indent along it's scolding surface. It was bath in liquid gold flames. The egg was paid no mind, but it did not need a mother nor someone to warm it. For the flames it was swathed in provided all the warmth it needed. Birds would come and land several feet away from it. For a look of the little, firey egg was indeed a dazzling sight.
It was then several weeks later that the egg began to shake. Many birds gather round as it shook violently. The peeping of a chick and it's eggtooth pecking away could be heard in the dead silence. The wind did not blow and the trees were still. The volcano did not stir and the fire ceased to bubble and pop. It was then all the bird'd curious eyes widened. There was one last beck and the flaming egg was extinquished. Out fell a baby chick. It's brightly coloured feathers soaked from the moisture trapped in the egg. All the surrounding birds, crows, finches, songbirds, and even an owl gasped at the wonderous sight. It was almost imediate that the baby bird dried from the red hot heat surrounding it. A small peep escaped it's golden beak. This was indeed a special bird.
All the birds of the forest, that lie at the volcano's base cared for the young bird. They fed it and watched it for predators. Although no fox or wolf dare come close to it. Even though you could see their golden eyes peering from the dark depths of the forest. When it was time for feeding, the heat from the baby bird fled so it's feeder would be able to come close. When the bird opened its eyes, the closed eyelids revealed a bright icy blue colour. It was the bright colour on the bird and could make one's skin crawl all over.
Again it was more weeks later that the bird had grown a bit more. She could now speak, and her voice was silky and smooth. Like water cascading over pebbles. She was then given the name Anna by all the birds who watched over her. She was looked after for many, many weeks. It was then time for her first flight. She stood atop a ledge on the volcano's slopping hills. She had the nervous look in her eye, but the encouraging chirps from the other birds made her strong. It was than the most beautiful sight you could see happened. The firey bird spread her flame-coloured wings. She pushed off the ledge and leapt into the night air. Golden sparks and small flampes fell from her silky, soft feathers. As in celebration the volcano erupted. Anna's figure was bathed in golden light. Firey sparks fell from the sky, raining down on the bird. Although not a single spark could singe her feathers. This was Anna. The hatchling born from the flames of the volcano.
