In the midst of the forest, an angry starling stood perched atop a tree. Its feathers were ruffled, wings flapping violently, as anger burned in its eyes. This was no ordinary starling, for its wings held an intricate, geometric pattern that seemed to pulse with life. Each feather was adorned with a Fibonacci spiral fractal that shimmered with vibrant color tones, and the fine lines were so detailed that it seemed like the bird had been painted with a fine brush.
The starling had always been different from the others. Its fractal wings were both beautiful and unusual, and it was often the object of fascination for birdwatchers and artists alike. But the starling didn't care for the attention. All it wanted was to be left alone.
On this particular day, the starling had lost its temper. It was tired of being gawked at, of being painted and photographed and treated like a spectacle. So it took to the sky, its wings flapping with furious intensity. As it soared, the patterns on its wings seemed to come alive, twisting and turning with an otherworldly beauty.
The other birds in the forest took notice, for the starling's fury was palpable. They watched in awe as it flew, its fractal wings trailing behind it like a shower of colored light. And while they were scared, they couldn't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of the starling's rage.