My feet touched down as they always do; right first, then left,... followed by a quick re-gaining of my upright posture. I looked into my mother's eyes overcome with pain. "Mother! Eeh-eeh!" Screaching, I grabbed at my upper back. "My love, oh my love,.... it's your time." She held me, trying to calm me. She could not. "Aaah!!" I cried out, falling to my knees. The sound of my wings ripping from the flesh on my back was horrifying. Crouching and ubnable to do anything more than cry and feel the intense morphous overcome me; I begged nature to take her course quickly. My mother standing by coddling me through the ordeal as best she could. I struggled to and from her arms onto the grass and back again, in so much pain I was unsure of my surroundings. I was sincerely pitiful. As quickly as it started, the ordeal ended. I turned from my mother's arms to see what the remains looked like. There behind me in the grass, where what used to be my means to navigate the skies. Today, my wings dropped to the ground. Raking over the ground, in a futile attempt to gather my wings, they disintegrated and turned into ash each time my hands touched them. I am no longer able to fly among the drill monkeys. This royal rite of passage I survived has deemed me worthy of ruling and dispatching the drill monkeys as I see fit. My first order of business will be to stop the Wicked Witch of the West,... dead in her tracks.