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Sorrow was chased to the backburner as the wind lifts its offspring higher. When I was in the air I felt stronger, smoother, in control and more powerful then when I was on the ground. Up here, nothing could taint how the wind felt between your feathers. Or how each updraft and downdraft stroked my tips until body was lifted closer to the gods as if embraced by an unseen force. Some would say magic kept us aloft, others—strength. Whichever it was, choosing to spar in the sky had been a correct choice; immediately I felt my troubles start to wane, and instead of mindlessly worrying I began to focus on the strokes of my wings. It was hard to be gloomy when filled with the intense thrill of flight.
Another set of wings beat with familiar rhythm that I could recognize in the deepest of sleep. Like a hoofprint or scent, our wings had their own signature power. Her thrusts on a quiet morning don’t go missed, my head starts to angle down to better see the sultana and hopefully form a plan of attack after gauging her position. The mocha lass shared much with me, height and built. For once I didn’t feel outsized—though her bulk was slightly heftier. She had other ideas, that didn’t include letting me calmly ponder about much of anything. I had just enough time to catch a quick glance of a chocolate wither and hawk like wings…just before her compact body comes flying up at my left wing head first.
Baulking at her speed and disapproving my lingering state of interest I try to brace myself and throw as much weight into my right side as the dexter wing can manage. The world pitches but it’s not enough to miss her attack entirely, the inner wingpit is avoided thankfully; but my outer secondary feathers and wing tip get pushed aside. This has the most annoying result of sending my balance off; which I proceed to correct by setting teeth and thrusting my right wing hard once, twice, before I am able to get straightened out. Her well aimed hoof lands just below my croup, there is a sharp sting but no real burn that would cause hindrance.
She wanted my focus, apparently. No real damage was done—and well… well now she had my undivided attention. Personal thoughts vanished in the distance as I raced to lean left, banking hard. In this moment I forgot about D’art, and Cera, I wanted nothing more than to show my WindChaser, my Leader, that her trust wasn’t misplaced; and I was every bit as worthy as any to be called, ‘General.’
Sun painted feathers stroke up and down, hard and fast to maintain speed that would have any chance at catching her. I seek pressurized air that might give me an edge to her agility. Breezes cool and warm in different ways, even with the heat of the desert to aid in warm currents sometimes it was hard to find a solid stream. Lady luck seemed to be smiling today and my heart surged with feelings of excitement as a warm pressure buildings beneath me.
With gaining acceleration I rise and soar above her. Wings close just a few inches, but this makes a huge difference in altitude and lowers me enough so that I'm hopefully within reach and proper position for an attack. I was making attempt at sinking my teeth inside the top portion of her crest. This attack wasn’t dealt out to do much harm, she kicked my rump so I was going to pull her hair in retaliation. My neck stretches fully and yellowish ivory’s widen in anticipation. If this move is successful, it was surely going to be later regretted when said spar was over and I was picking her hair from my teeth for days to come. Forlimbs had remained tucked until now, they both extend out with daggers pointed to try and scrap along her withers and loin in passing as I bend down to take up a mouthful of mane or whatever happened to come in contact should I miss entirely.
Kri was the type of friend that would knock you senseless and then take you out for apples all in the same day.
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[JUDGED] See it rise [Training spar, Boom]
