On a small branch, a biting wind of -15°C mercilessly pierces through your white feathers. You instinctively puff up all your feathers to create an air layer, but it's not enough to ward off the encroaching cold. Your stomach is already empty, and your wing muscles are frozen, barely moving. "Chirp, chirp-" From the nearby forest, you hear the faint chirps of your companions. It means the flock has started to move. If you close your eyes now, you may never wake up again. You gather strength in your frozen toes, push off the branch, and take flight. Before sunset today, you must find food equal to your body weight, and at night, you must secure a spot in the center of the flock. The great escape of a tiny life, weighing just 8g, begins now.