The oursa looked over the scroll she had been writing. It still wasn’t right! She had been wracking her brain for the past three days trying to compose her thoughts in an orderly fashion. But everything was a jumble up in there. The more she tried to focus, the more she ended up going sideways. She’d never get accepted into the Academy at this rate.
As she so often did when her brain refused to cooperate, she reached for her flute. A gift from her father when she was still only a cub, the instrument was a reminder of a home she could never return to. It soothed her just to hold it, to feel the polished wood between her paws. Bringing the woodwind to her lips, she belted out a soulful tune. Her mind went blank as she let the music carry her.
How long she played, she couldn’t remember. She woke up the next morning to find herself hunched over the desk. The flute had been set aside and in her paw she still held her writing quill. The scroll she had fallen asleep over was now filled with words. She read them over. This was it!