We asked the dragon what she was doing behind the fence.
She was waiting, she said. Waiting to be transported to her next destination.
Couldn't she simply fly, we asked.
No, she didn't think so. Well, she hadn't flown in a very long time, so she couldn't quite remember how to go about it anymore, she said.
No one can forget how to fly, we insisted. Just as people didn't forget to walk or swim or ride a bike, even if they hadn't done it for decades.
That's not how it goes with flying, the dragon reasoned.
We couldn't argue for none of us had ever flown before nor did we know anyone who could fly. (Except the birds, but they have long stopped sharing their secrets with humans, so there was no way we could verify the dragon's claims.)
We urged the dragon to try and fly.
Nah, she dismissed. It probably involved too much effort, so she couldn't bothered to try, she said, and anyway she was scheduled to be transported to her next destination, the events crew should be here anytime now.
She said they'd dismantle her into small blocks, box them up, and piece her together again when they'd arrive at the next destination.
Didn't it hurt, we wondered.
It does, she admitted, but at least this way she knew she'd soon be whole and in one piece again. As long as she avoided the hazards of flying.