Long ago, before the father of your father roamed the lands, lived a maiden named Aoife. None matched her in beauty, wit or valor. Aoife was a curious girl, and she happened upon a pair of swan wings, white as snow, and strong as her desire to fly. Using the magik of olde, with mutterings of a most ancient and mysterious breed she chanted,
"Come ye stormy wind and rain, use thy powers once again.
Take these wings which now are mine, grant the wish for which I pine.
Bestow unto me avian flight, with thy magik and thy might"
The spirits obliged, and Aoife's head reeled with wonder as she flexed her newly formed tendons, reveling in the newfound weight upon her back. There she stayed for the rest of the day, learning feather by feather how to move her wings.
Spreading her newly found appendages, she took to the air. But her joy was short lived, for upon landing in her village square, she was surrounded with the prying fingers of her own people. But their greed did no damage, for when a fe