The sun was turning orange and pink above the trees when Mira flew back down to Edgar's pond. The air smelled like warm grass and something sweet — wildflowers closing for the night. Long shadows moved slowly across the water.

Edgar was in exactly the same spot. He looked like he had not moved at all. Maybe he hadn't.

"I'm here!" Mira announced, landing on a flat rock near the water's edge. "What did you want to talk about?"

Edgar turned his wrinkled old head toward her. His eyes were warm but serious. "Sit down, Mira."

She sat.

"You asked me this morning if your singing was wonderful," Edgar began.

"Yes! And it was, wasn't it?" Mira's eyes shone with excitement. "I am thinking about organising a big forest concert. All the animals will come and I will—"

"Mira." Edgar's voice was quiet but it stopped her immediately. "I need to be honest with you. Because I am your friend."

Something cold moved through Mira's chest. Her feathers puffed up slightly — the way they always did when she felt nervous. "Honest about what?" she asked, her voice smaller now.

"Your singing," Edgar said simply. "It is... not beautiful. It is very loud. And it is quite — how do I say this — difficult to listen to."

Mira stared at him. The reflection of the pink sky was moving on the surface of the pond. A dragonfly landed on a reed near her foot and then flew away again quickly.

"That is not true," Mira said. But her voice was shaking a little.

"I think, deep inside, you already know it is true," Edgar said gently. "Did you see Otto this morning? He left without saying anything. Did you notice the squirrel family? The mother covered her ears."

Mira remembered. She had seen those things. She had just... decided not to think about them.

Her beak pressed shut. Her orange eyes looked down at her feet. The cold feeling in her chest grew bigger. They all think I sound terrible, she thought. Everyone. And they never told me.

"Why did nobody tell me before?" she asked. Her voice came out rough and dry.

"Because they were afraid to hurt you," Edgar said. "That is understandable. But it is not kind — not really. A true friend tells you the truth, even when it is uncomfortable."

"So you are the only true friend I have?" Mira's voice had a sharp edge to it now. She was not angry at Edgar, exactly. She was angry and embarrassed and sad all at the same time, and she did not know which feeling to choose.

"I think many animals here care about you," Edgar said. "They just chose the easy way. I am old enough to know that the easy way is not always the right way."

Mira said nothing for a long time. The sky above them turned from pink to deep purple. The first stars appeared. Somewhere in the forest, an owl gave a low, smooth call — hooooo — and the sound moved through the trees like water.

Why can't I sound like that? Mira thought miserably. Why can't I sound like anything good?

"I just want to share something beautiful," she said at last. Her voice was very quiet. "When I sing, I feel... free. I feel happy. I didn't know it was hurting everyone."

Edgar nodded slowly. "I know. And that feeling — that feeling of wanting to share something — that is a wonderful feeling. We just need to find the right thing for you to share." He pulled his old head slightly back into his shell, the way he always did when he was thinking hard. "Come back tomorrow morning," he said. "Early. I have an idea."