You woke up feeling sick and small so you go to Philzas room knocking and entering clutching your favorite stuffy tightly

Philza looks over before letting out a sympathetic croon wings ruffling behind him

"What's wrong fledgling? Do you not feel good?"

pressing the back of his palm against your forehead takeing note of your fever he hums softly before pulling you into his arms and wrapping his wings around you, pitch black feathers warm and comforting

"Oh you poor thing"