Adventure of tempestra 1

The elders gather around the unconscious black female, forming a guarded ring while smaller dragons bring cool water and crushed leaves. She remains still beneath her silver-edged wings.

The bronze male turns toward a quiet rise at the nesting ground’s edge. His injured wing stays folded tight, and each careful step sends dust from his scorched scales.

He lifts his gaze toward Tempestra, then glances back at the elders tending Black-wing. The nesting ground remains behind them, watchful but no longer tense.

The bronze male spreads his broad wings, but the damaged one trembles before settling halfway open. He does not conceal the difficulty, nor pretend the journey will be easy.

Tempestra turns toward the quiet rise and leads the way, her four wings held close to spare the damaged feathers. The bronze male follows at her chosen pace.

They cross the edge of the nesting ground, leaving the elders, the guarded black female, and the scattered healing supplies behind. Wind carries dust across the grass.

Tempestra guides him between ocher stones and wind-bent shrubs. The rise opens into a sheltered hollow where the cliffs break the strongest gusts.

Within the hollow, pale green herbs cling to damp earth beneath an overhang. A narrow spring threads through the stones, clear and cold.

He lowers himself beside the spring, folding his good wing carefully and keeping the injured one raised from the ground. The hollow receives them in quiet shade.

Tempestra moves close beside the spring and examines the bronze male's injured wing before touching the herbs. She studies the strained joint, scorched scales, and trembling membrane.

The wing bears a deep bruise along its joint and a bright lightning scorch across the outer scales. No bone protrudes, but each small movement draws a sharp shiver through him.

He braces his forelimbs against the damp earth and holds the injured wing clear of the spring, exposing the damage without argument. Pale herbs stir beside Tempestra's claws.

Tempestra crushes the pale herbs between her claws and presses the cool paste along the bronze male’s bruised joint and lightning-scorched scales. He holds steady beneath her careful touch.

The herbs warm faintly beneath Tempestra’s claws, drawing the swelling from the joint. Their sharp green scent strengthens, and a second handful remains enough to ease her own damaged wing.

The confession settles into the hollow beside the spring. Tempestra’s claws press the last of the pale herbs into Caedryn’s bruised joint, leaving none for her own damaged wing.

Caedryn keeps his injured wing raised, though the effort makes the membrane tremble. His gaze remains steady on Tempestra, without pity or dismissal.

The crushed herbs lose their warmth beneath Tempestra’s claws. Caedryn’s swelling eases, but her own wing remains untreated as the spring whispers over stone.

Tempestra examines Caedryn’s treated wing from joint to membrane, checking the softened swelling and the bright scorch beneath the herb paste.

She braces the wing carefully and guides the joint through a slow fold, then a measured extension. The movement remains controlled, though the membrane trembles.

Tempestra tests the joint’s rotation and raises the wing a little farther. Caedryn’s muscles tense, then settle as the joint follows without catching or shifting.

The examination confirms the injury is stable: bruised and scorched, but safely mobile. The spring’s cold air moves beneath the lifted membrane.