Flying high above Isla Kela, a black and tan trope looked out amongst the scrubland before him. The winds were calm, perfect flying weather, which the old pterosaur was thankful for. As he cut silently through the sky he spotted a dead tree along the shoreline of rainbow lake. Carefully flapping his large wings he settled upon its branched, which creaked and bowed beneath his weight.
Thankfully he wasn't as heavy as he used to be, his body now light and frail with...