It was a perfect day. The weather was beautiful, warm but not hot on both feathers and scales. There was a slight breeze, enough to feel good against scales but not enough to ruffle feathers. The air was clean and fresh, the slight scent of salt coming in from the nearby sea. In the distance loud seagull cries filled the air, muffled by the sound of ruffling leaves in the forest. It was peaceful. It was perfect.
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