This came to me unexpectedly. It isn’t the actual ending, but during a time when writing is difficult, I’ll take what I can get and be glad of it.
Sitting motionless on the fallen, decaying log, Tink brooded at the last bits of sunlight flaring above the distant horizon. The warmth of the shrinking rays, gleaming off the drowsing tree leaves was lost on him. The small creatures moving through the brush to his left hopped and crawled without worry. He stared into the dusky, encroaching night and sighed. Nothing had happened the way he had expected. Sammy was gone. The dragon was gone. The hospital had closed its doors to him. Despite the stained, somewhat tattered cloak lying limp over his bones, the Night Terrors were no longer an option. How had this happened? Thinking back to the day Sammy had pushed the box containing his clothes onto the bed and told him he had been discharged, he could only shake his head. It was like he had been swept along on a wave, with no choice but to ride it out. What forces had moved against him? And why? What had he done to deserve this complete upheaval?
Darkness settled around him, soaking into his bones through the dampening cloak. Moss would start growing on him if he didn’t get up. The idea made his bones clatter softly with amusement. Oh, the irony! Wouldn’t that be a find for some unsuspecting soul out gathering flowers in the forest one day? To come upon a cloaked skeleton, held together only by the moss growing upon it, would be a shock indeed! The image took a clearer shape in his mind, and he began to chuckle out loud, making the creatures in the brush pause to listen, their feet halting in the midst of stepping. Soon his entire frame rattled with laughter.