As the sun rises over the horizon, we gather around the wounded. She fought bravely, wielding our idol against the serpents, but they move too quickly for us. She is stung, and her body struggles to resist the poison. The scribe examines her body. He applies the prescribed ointment to her skin and to the statue. It glitters in the dawn as light stretches through the dust-filled air. We pray to the serpentine idol for the deaths of the flying serpents. Not in pain, but gently, for even our greatest enemies do not deserve a painful death. We wait.
Prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that symbolically, mythically, mystically, or realistically involves dawn, as a noun or verb. Write about the dawn of time or the time of dawn, or the dawning of an idea.