Pinnacles of enormous girth claw at the sky – their faces are pale and serrated. Their crowns are topped with grey and cloaked in smoke. Noah leads me beyond the high-rise…and as we pass from that sheltered arena of evergreen into a bleaker, greyer reality...my immersion into the facade of comfort and security becomes tarnished once more. I couldn’t help but twinge with a sudden desire to turn abruptly, abandon him and return to the dark hope behind those walls; conceal myself from the world beyond them. Memories of our ascension are blurred, shapeless…I couldn't recognize (no matter the struggle) anything about the mark-less abyss below. Barren, forsaken. Mini me scowls, wearing her disapproval openly while I survey the neighboring territories. At our current height, the wind smarts against my body, tugging warmth from these bones. Legs quiver, reflexively tightening their hold against my belly as these feathers pump, thrusting hard to gain lift.  

Uncertainty sparks, charging up a storm of suppressed afflictions. Warily, I look to the firm, experienced eagle as those bubbles of dread climb into the back of my throat and lodge themselves within the folds. A question spins itself into view, 'what did he want from these lands?' Irises shift, narrowing ahead -- aiming for the imaginary point of his destination (as if it would come into view.) Other notions rise from the murk of insecurity and doubt. Where is leading me? And why? We didn't have the capacity to cross into the subject of where or why he intended to go...but that didn't stop me from wondering...

Why me?

Absently, (dazed) my eyes catch on his wings; a familiar goblet of intrigue drips into the murk. For a single instance he becomes something elevated above that of a moral man...  My subconscious uses that inkling of interest to drive my squelched courage forward, ‘learn from him, you can't hid forever.' There was always a cue to unfurl, to rise above circumstances...but...

Just one step. Learn one thing.

Humoring the notion, I fixate on his powerful arms which (for whatever reason) invoke my inspiration; pouring my concentration on those tiny details. Studying how those feathers yield into the updraft, or how he rode the air with smooth…effortless grace. For the next few hours, my inquisitiveness makes use of our forced silence to study his strokes and mimic (tailor) a few styles. From the spiraling (hawkish manner) he twists, embracing the warmer currents of air; to when those gilded pinions arch into the upswing, expertly plying a fuller thrust and drag. Over time, my stride becomes lengthened; I practice descending and finding that (newly discovered and greatly appreciated) wind-stream alone.

While I'm caught up in those secret lessons, I didn’t notice (at first) the familiar stiffening of worn muscles; nor how the tingling had begun to branch from where meat connects to wither and joints hinge upon both shoulder and breast. Ligaments groan, resenting my demands. These lungs heave, panting for oxygen....“N-noah…” that wispy call is brushed off... my voice is simply too soft for his ears to detect at such a distance.

Left with no perceivable choice but to warm toward the idea of descending alone. These arms gradually slow their driving momentum and drop below that murky cloud cover. Astonishment escapes on the next gasp for air. Oh my! Gone is the barren, bleak scenery...instead, a tangle of foggy, moisture heavy greenery consumes the landscape. These optics widen in their sockets, drinking the change of scenery. I could see the haze of silvery waterfalls in the distance and feel their cumbersomeness greeting of humidity...

Relief splashes over the levy...doubling to a breach when Noah sinks. Minutes later, these ivory pinions have drawn up, arching as they back-paddle and alight my slight frame into the cushioned earth at a thudding canter.

@Noah - Sorry for the wait!