Basalt groaned. What had happened? He was laying on his stomach, wings askew, with his face in the dirt. With a little too much effort that’s what it should have been, he shook the dirt off his snout and dropped his head back down. His talons were shaking with exhaustion and his wings felt like they were being weighed down by rocks. Blearily, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Even in his weak state, he could sense the thousands of talons thundering on the ground. Reinforcements. He hoped they were good, but his heart sunk when all he saw were black and red scales. He tried to lie still so he wouldn’t get caught, and tried flexing his claws to regain power back in them. His tree was wilting, low on energy as he was, he could sense that, and all he could do was wait for the strength to come back.