I flew a long way: until my muscles were sore. I carried on for as long as I could go, then decided to set up camp in a little cave I had found in the side of a fairly small mountain. I figured I was in Wales, by the distance I'd covered, amount of snowfall and amount of sheep.
Along the way, I'd picked up some supplies from various tips and gardens. Y'know, stuf like a matress, pillows, solar-powered nightlight. I stuck the nightlight just inside the entrance to my new home, so I can find it after a day spent flying.
The cave was bigger than the indentation on the mountainside looked. It had a small stream running right down the middle, trickling over the outside ledge. The limestone acts as a natural filter for the water, so it was more pure than the drinking water in most built-up areas. I learned that on a mountain activity holiday here in Wales.
There was natural light inside the cave, caused by that stone - is it phosphurus? - that grows in caves and emits light, tempting explorers to dead ends in undiscovered caverns.
I laid the beaten-up matress against a solid rock wall and my rucksack next to it. I stretched my wings a little, to work out the kinks from a long-haul flight. Some wooden furniture that I took from a builing site was soon laid out in the centre of the cave. I drank some of the water from the stream. Pure, clean and ice cold. I fumbled through my belongings and took out a packet of Sweet & Sour Crackers. They are so unbelievably delicious. I love those things. Yes. LOVE.
A few hours later, staring at the freezing rain outside, I was beginning to feel drowsy. I lay on the matress with my MP3 player blasting Atreyu and Nine Inch Nails into my ears and somehow fell asleep in seconds.