The Wind Between Wings

The dragons of Veyr gathered on the mountain stair whenever one of their own had forgotten how to fly. They did not offer advice. The oldest simply folded its wings, and the others made a wind between them, slow and steady as breathing. This evening, the smallest lifted one trembling wing. A feather of sunlight slipped through the peaks. No one cheered. Dragons are too proud for cheering, but every stone beneath them warmed.