Prologue

The world was black. Black and tiny and squished. But a small duckling was about to change that.

The little mallard duckling pushed and squirmed and kicked her tiny orange webbed feet. She banged the roof and stomped on the bottom of her egg. 

Crack. A thin, rigged line of light split through the world of black. The duckling struggled harder, pressing her soft head against the top of the shell.

The duckling was unsure of how long it took, but it did happen. Sometime later, the top part of the shell fell away.

Flashes of white exploded through the darkness. As the brightness dimmed a little, greens and yellows and blues filled the duckling's blurry vison.

The duckling felt something peck at the bottom part of the egg that she was still trapped in. Before she knew it, the shell crumpled, leaving sharp broken pieces lying around her. 

But now, the duckling was free. She moved her little neck around, arching it to look up.

The duckling’s mother stood above the duckling, her joyful voice ringing in the shimmering air. Right now, her sound could be heard, even at the quietest whistle, from miles away. Silver and clear, crisp and beautiful.

The duckling’s mother blinked at her daughter in warmth. Her first-hatch. A little, wonderful, ball covered with down.

The mother sang out a single note.

Ember.

The duckling had a name.