It wasn't safe to come out in the light anymore, people bearing curses kill buttons everywhere the eye could see.

So she waited till dusk, then dark, when all those, well, most were soundly sleeping, safe in their homes.

Wingbeats brought her to the cemetery gates, icy blue flowers clutched within her paws, one for each lost the night of the riot.

It didn't matter that the dragon had not known their names, all that mattered, was they had been slain in a protest turned violent.

Slipping through the gates, quietly as she could, the keeper seemed to be off duty, or asleep somewhere. Quickly, quietly, the flowers were placed upon the fresh new mounds, the mounds that seemed only to grow more and more each day, this needed to stop.

The last flower placed, she quietly pushed off the ground, and disappeared back into the night. No one had seen her, and the only evidence she'd ever been there, would be the icy flowers, on the freshly dug graves.