Fang's eyes slowly slid open. Sunlight blinded him, and he blinked rapidly.
After becoming adjusted to the bright light, he finally realized where he was. He was lying in his bed, at his old house in the mountains.
"How is this possible?" Fang wondered.
He stood up and walked out of the room. Max was in the kitchen, trying to make something for breakfast, which was an impossible task.
Upon seeing him, Max smiled and walked over to the kitchen door, where Fang was standing.
"Good morning, Fang." Max said happily, kissing him on the cheek. Then, she returned to her previous task.
Fang just stood there, completely stunned. Something had to be wrong.
Running outside, Fang took deep breaths of fresh air. He prepared himself to take off into the air. He needed to fly. For Fang, flying made everything better.
And that's when he realized the horrible truth.
Fang didn't have wings.