The sun shined down, reflecting off the water of the pond below. Robby the duck flapped his wings as hard as he could to gain a little extra altitude. The wind blew cold and fresh in his face, and the sun warmed his back. As he reached the peak of his climb, he slowed his wings, turning his beak down toward the ground that lay far below him. He then folded his wings in close to his body, leaving only the narrow edges of his wings extended into the wind. He lowered his head and started a steep dive, down through the clouds he flew. The wind roared in his ears, and he had to squeeze his eyes almost shut to protect them from the wind. In just a few seconds, he was moving very fast, sixty miles per hour, then seventy. The wind screamed like the fireworks at the Fourth of July; it was so loud it hurt his ears, and the ground grew closer at a frightening speed. Robby was a brave duck, but he knew ducks were not meant to fly at this speed and fear began to creep in on him. When the fear finally got the best of him, he edged his right wing out to slow his descent. But it was too late; his wing caught the wind, and he rolled to the left, losing control and going into a wild spin. As the ground rushed up, he spun helplessly out of control. Fear griped him, and he let out a terrifying scream. Everything went black. The scream woke up the other toys in the bedroom where Robby lived. The old stuffed elephant who sat on the shelf above the bed looked down in scorn."Dreaming of flying again, Robby?" he asked in a very rude voice. The other toys broke out in laughter. The old brown bear that sat in the corner of the bed smiled. "Foolish duck," he said. "When will you learn that rubber ducks can’t fly?"
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