A baaj sat on a quiet rock, high above the valley.
The world below moved in its own noise, but the bird stayed still, listening to a wind only it could hear.

When the moment came, it didn’t rush.
It opened its wings slowly, as if remembering what it was made for.
No announcement. No effort. Just a quiet decision to rise.

Some things don’t fly to escape.
They fly because the sky finally calls their name.