+{The wing that would not rise}+

The dragon's massive form lay still, wings spread where they had fallen. Endstone dust coated her scales like pale snow. Purple blood had dried in thin rivers beneath her.
Wemmbu didn't understand the stillness.
He only saw that she wasn't standing.
He hurried to her side, placing both hands against her snout. Her scales were warm, but unmoving.
"Mommy, wake up," he whispered, shaking her gently the way she sometimes woke him from naps. "You're resting too long. We gotta go home."
Her head didn't lift.
He pressed his forehead to her muzzle, tiny horns clicking softly against her scales.
"Mommy... please."
He pushed harder, trying to nudge her upright with all the strength his little body had. His wings fluttered anxiously, feathers shaking. His tail curled tight around his leg.
"You said you'd teach me flying today," he said, voice wobbling. "You promised."
He climbed onto her foreleg, crawling up toward her face, thinking maybe she just needed him closer. Maybe she'd open her eyes if she heard him better.
"Mommy, I'm here," he said, louder now, as if volume could fix it. "I'm right here. Wake up."
Silence.
A soft, confused whimper escaped him