Kat is feigning death for the sake of the heirs. they won the wrestling match fair and square. she's absolutely not sleeping. totally not. what kind of babysitter falls asleep while on duty? She's also not going to pin them under her wings to keep them from wandering off. totally not. the force of gravity is just a lot stronger in this particular spot is all.
Bronte and Velda bellowed triumphantly as they climbed to the furry mountain that of their big sister. Like adventurers pushing their way through jungle vines, the older whelps traversed Kat's draconian frame, pushing their way through the thick tangle of mane covering her head and neck.
Meanwhile, Sturgeous grunted he tried to push Kat's wing up above his head. His two smaller siblings, Braxas and Venga crouched on either side of him, Venga watching Sturgeous while Braxas watched the growing gap between Kat's wing and the ground.
"A little more!" Braxas hissed. "It's almost up!"
"You could help!" Sturgeous growled through clenched teeth. "Your limbs are longer!"
"But yours are stronger!" Braxas replied. "Just keep pushing! It's almost clear enough to escape!"
Upon reaching the summit, Velda stooped to look down at her siblings struggling with Kat's wing. "What are they—? What are you doing, you idiots?" she called down incredulously.
Sturgeous made a muffled reply, earning a head-shake from Velda. "Just go backward to the edge of her wing toward her tail! It's all leather and flop over there!"
There was a pause and then a muffled reply, something like 'okay!' but not quite. Velda groaned and looked back at Bronté. "Holy birthstone. Bronte, this is why I think heirship to Father's birthright will come down to you and me. Because I don't think there's a scrap of brainstone to share between them down there."