Then, with one strong breath, he rose into the air and began the most important flight of his life. At the beginning, the air was cold and heavy. His wings struggled against the wind, but he flew on. Soon after, he reached the edge of a burned field, where fire had passed seasons ago. The earth was black and silent. There, he found a lonely bee resting on a scorched branch. —“Where are you going, little bird?” she asked. —“To wake the flower that will bring back spring,” Picín replied. The bee gave him a drop of honey. —“Take this,” she said. “You’ll need it, and thank you.” Later, he reached a dry riverbed. The stones were cold, but between two rocks, he found a tiny fern still alive. He stopped to rest, his heart beating fast. After that, he crossed the canyon of broken trees. The wind howled and pushed him back. Suddenly, a storm cloud formed above him. Raindrops began to fall, heavy and cold. Picín shook his feathers and whispered, —“I must keep going.”