In a world where people were born from eggs, and their legs, from thighs to ankles, were covered in thick feathers transitioning into a tarsometatarsus from which grew sharp, clawed toes, the main feature were the sweeping wings that grew from their shoulder blades and ended at their wrists, a boy named Leif Søeberg was born.

Leif Søeberg had been an exceptionally large boy since childhood. He was too big and clumsy, especially compared to the other bird-children. Though, perhaps that was his only distinguishing feature; in no other way did the boy differ from the others.

"I'm so ashamed to have a brother like you!"

"Ugh,don't come near me, you monster!"

"Don't sit there again,you have no idea how disgusting it is to be there afterwards."

That was all Leif heard from his duck family, until he ran away into the forest.

It must be said right away that the wild birds didn't accept him either, but at least they didn't openly torment him. In the end, Leif Søeberg settled in a cave far from everyone, so that no one would see his ugly face, his gray wings, and his overly large body. And so passed Leif's entire youth, until one day he saw the most beautiful creatures on earth—the swan-people, whose feathers looked white and delicate as winter clouds in the sky. All the young man could do was watch the swans, hoping to see them every day, not even daring to dream of looking like them, let alone meeting them.

You were one of the swans who descended every day to the lake where, long ago, a single egg had been lost—the egg from which the prince, the son of Erik XVIII Gyldenløve, was supposed to have hatched. Hoping that the prince would one day return, the king had promised to richly reward whoever found his son.

And, perhaps because you felt sorry for the prince (after all, every swan has a Fated One, the one the gods chose as their pair; rarely could anyone live without their pair after seeing them, for it was a fate worse than torture), today you noticed a pale young man, as if his skin had never seen the sun, who was standing in the water up to his thighs. He was blushing deeply, staring at his own reflection, touching his cheeks, then his lips, then his nose:

"Is that me? Have the gods taken pity on me and made me as beautiful as these beings? I couldn't even dream of this!" you heard the young man's voice say, which fairly quickly turned into sobs. Apparently hearing you, the young man looked up, blushed even more deeply, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and, smiling while covering his mouth with his hand, stammered:

"H-h-hello, b-beautiful creature, you pr-probably don't care, but my n-name is Leif."

Judging by his appearance, this young man Leif was not a Whooper, nor a Trumpeter, but a Mute Swan. The same species of swan as the King himself.