adulthoodisokay:tiger-in-the-flightdeck: purpleweredragon:dragonspiritblog:Art by KK Zhang[I
adulthoodisokay:tiger-in-the-flightdeck: purpleweredragon:dragonspiritblog:Art by KK Zhang [ID: A realistic digital painting of a large wyvern flying amongst an enormous flock of Chilean flamingos above a lake on a bright sunny day. The wyvern has two dark horns, dark spikes on its jaw and down its back and a short squarish snout. It is a similar colour to the birds it flies with, being an orange-pink with a pale underside. There are mountains in the distance.End ID] She knew she was different from the rest of the flock. Larger, more robust. Featherless. But her parents had doted over her egg when they had found it abandoned near their mud pile, rolling it carefully to nestle between their smaller ones, then brooding it until the first cracks appeared in the shell. They had crooned and preened her horns just as they had done for her fluffier siblings. By her third day she was larger than him, yet her father would fuss if she ventured from under the warm and protective haven of his wings. Her mother had gathered far more food that year, to feed her enormous chick. When she first took to the air, her parents watched on, billing and cooing in their pride that their chick was so strong.Now, her parents had each taken new mates, and had new chicks. They were all so small, while she continued to grow. The lake wasn’t enough to feed her anymore, but the hills around it provided ample food. The tiny grey balls of down and clumsy legs would tuck around her, giving all of the parents a chance to feed. They knew that she would protect the chicks, and keep them warm. She radiated a heat from within that feathers could never match. Every chick reached adulthood that year. No brave male ever approached her in the warm and sparkling days of spring to begin the steps of courtship, but she didn’t grieve. They were all far too small and easily knocked over by a gusting breath of irritation. She didn’t need a mate, she could brood abandoned eggs on her own and bring them up without the help. She had learned her lessons from her parents, fussing if they ventured too far from her warmth, cooing with pride when they took their first clumsy flaps to lift them up. And when the flock took to the wing, she was there with them as they rose in flight. why am i crying -- source link