The first time The Boy did magic, he called the birds. Then he got scared and conjured a protective bubble to catch them.
Magic came easily enough, but he NEEDED to predict and control the consequences.
These were proud birds who had avoided the cages. They flapped and rolled the bubble down the hill, dragging their feathers through the soapy membrane and popping free.
The Boy frowned and whispered.
“I’m going to be a magician, Flopsy.”
The rabbit twitched, knowing he would spend the rest of his days poking his delicate nose out of a top hat at children’s parties.