In the golden glow of its terrarium, the bearded dragon rests, its ancient eyes unblinking.
Days pass, yet it refuses food, a quiet mystery in the heart of its keeper.
A baby dragon hungers daily, its tiny body demanding constant nourishment.
In the cold embrace of brumation, it slumbers, unfazed by empty bowls.
Warmth and light are its unseen feast, fueling a life lived in slow rhythm.
A sip of water, a mist upon its scales, is more vital than a fleeting meal.
Yet neglect is a cruel fate—watch the eyes, the weight, the spirit.
And when the feast returns, so does the fire in its ancient, knowing gaze.
A sip of water, a mist upon its scales, is more vital than a fleeting meal.