The little wyvern went around the seers’ island in a wide circle just to be safe, then continued south toward the silhouette of another large island. Her back ached with each flap of her winged forelimbs. She wasn't sure how long she could stay airborne at a time without the pain consuming her, especially now that the adrenaline from her near-death encounters was waning.
Gretel frowned as she came within two miles of the new island, realizing that it wasn't large at all, instead crescent-shaped, mostly a flat beach halfway outlined by a mesa with a few lone trees on top; the silhouette had just been in a misleading perspective. Still, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to rest her sore muscles. Without a second thought, the wind-type hatchling landed atop a palm tree to recover… but even as she got comfortable and lied still, the ache persisted.
Gretel was startled when the tree suddenly quivered as if from something impacting it.
“I win!” a young dragon’s voice declared from below.
“No fair! You're bigger than me!” a second one complained.
The white-and-purple wyvern peered between the palm fronds to see two little water types chasing each other around the tree. The youngest was around her own age given their similar sizes, the other perhaps a couple months older. Their shared purple coloring made her think they were siblings.
“You knew I was bigger before you challenged me to the race,” the elder one argued, lashing his fin-tipped tail. “It's totally fair! It's not my fault you're a weak little baby."
“I'll show you ‘weak,’” the smaller one huffed and playfully tackled his brother. The two tumbled and rolled until Gretel felt the tree quiver a second time. “Da-a-ad!” he whined.
“Shut up, tattletale! I didn't even touch you,” the other huffed dismissively, but the wind type could detect genuine distress in his younger sibling’s pitch. She knew it wasn't a petty complaint, but rather, a call for help. Gretel impulsively wanted to jump down and to make sure he was okay until a fully grown indigo male approached them; she froze fearfully and remained hidden.
“Hey, go easy on your little brother,” he scolded.
“But I didn't do anything!” the eldest defended himself. “He tackled me first, then we bumped into the tree–”
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“It hurts,” the youngest interrupted with another whine, and the other two water dragons hesitated when they realized he was serious.
“Hang on, I'll see if Valerie can help,” their father assured them. He picked up the injured hatchling, put him securely between the large fins on his back, and rushed along the base of the mesa with the eldest right behind him. Gretel watched the family enter a cavern within it, then her sharp eyes detected a faint rose-colored glow from inside. Curiosity got the better of her and she silenced herself to land lightly outside of it, peeking in.
The glow was from the wings of a fairy type dragoness, who seemed to have fluttered down from somewhere above. Her spotted pale green fur was sleek, and the tuft of her twitching tail puffy. Her rose-red irises darted over the sniveling juvenile as his father set him down in front of her. She pressed her white-tipped forepaw on his shoulder, and he winced.
“I know it hurts,” Valerie acknowledged him as a matter of fact, then addressed the other adult as she added, “but the bones and muscles are fine. It’ll bruise, but it'll heal on its own.”
The father sighed with relief. “Thanks, Val.” He turned to his sons. “Come on, you two. Back to the water. No more roughhousing until it's healed, you hear me?”
“Yes, Dad,” they muttered simultaneously, following him out.
Gretel panicked as they neared the mouth of the cavern; she redirected the air skyward and rode it to the top of the mesa, then watched the trio swim out into the ocean until they dove out of sight. She let out a shaky breath, relieved they hadn't noticed her.
“You aren't as lucky with your injury,” Valerie’s voice suddenly sounded from behind her, and a startled squeal escaped the striped, white juvenile.
“W-W-What?” Gretel stammered, retreating a step. Fairy types weren't known to be violent, but she had heard stories of how cruel their sensory manipulations and hypnotic persuasions could be.
“Relax; I won't harm you. But I can sense the pain in your back, even if you're trying to ignore it. It's also visibly bruised and swollen. Please allow me to assess it further.”
The smaller female paused with indecision, then crouched and braced herself, letting Valerie lightly place her paw over the spot that hurt the most. When the furred dragoness pressed down slightly, her forward-curled golden antennae lifting as if to gauge the hatchling’s reaction, Gretel cried out in agony and reflexively jerked away from the touch.
The fairy type frowned, the light of her wings briefly shifting to blue. Gretel didn't know what that meant; it was all she could do to fight back the tears that had watered her hot pink eyes.
“It's a very thin fracture, but it may worsen if you strain yourself by flying,” Valerie reported. “I'd recommend resting until it's healed in a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?!” Gretel repeated, horrified. “I can't sit around for that long!”
The adult shrugged with indifference, although her wings' glow gained a reddish tint for a moment. “Do what you must, but you have been warned.” Without waiting for the speechless wind type to think of a response, Valerie slinked into a burrow that presumably connected to the cavern.