Flight School
A single step. Tips of colorful coral spires begin to peek over the cliff’s approaching ledge. Another hesitant step reveals more coral. Another step. You spot Grandfather Mantagrell lazily propelling themselves through the misty air. It’s getting harder to pretend the weakness in your legs doesn’t exist, but you allow yourself another step. Prismatic coral platforms decorate the landscape, shielding the deepest sections of the Highlands from sight, but you aren’t interested in them at the moment. With only two steps to go, you have a decision to make.
Doing your best to ignore your increased heart rate, you take one last step, placing yourself on the edge of the cliff. It’s a beautiful view of the Coral Highlands, and one you’d undoubtedly appreciate if today’s activity wasn’t taking center stage in your anxious mind. Don’t look straight down, you don’t want vertigo. Instead you roll your shoulders, the material draped around your torso conforming to the motion. You don’t like that. If it’s supposed to keep you aloft, shouldn’t it be looser?
A piercing cry from above breaks your thoughts and you direct your attention to the culprit, who’s taken to hovering in place with steady wingbeats, well beyond the comforts of solid ground. Their questioning tone does little to motivate you, especially coming from someone who was born to fly.
“I’ll jump when I’m ready! Just give me a minute.”
Even from this distance you catch Leggy’s disgruntled huff and a slight droop of fins, the air around their beak crystalizing for a moment before they respond with a high-pitched warble.
“Yes, I’ll let you know. Thank you.” You barely get that last sentence out before they opt to resume their circuit around the spire housing you, but you’re hardly paying attention, instead wrapped up in your own thoughts. You know the glider mantle works; you tested it earlier on a steep hill. So why are you hesitant now? Because you’re a little higher up? It’s no different than before. You know the mantle works.
Your mouth creaks open, ready to yell out to your friend who’s been patient through your slow ascent and self-doubt. Once they’re called, they won’t like it if you suddenly decide to withdraw, and you’d hate to disappoint them.
…
With a sigh, you continue ruminating. This is supposed to be a special occasion for the two of you. You still remember the sparkle in their eyes when you mentioned the mantle’s existence and their encouragement into procuring it. No number of reminders on its function deterred them from pestering you every single day about the status of your acquisition. In Leggy’s eyes, there was no difference between flying and gliding.
The joy etched on their muzzle today when you pulled the mantle out of your knapsack was worth the weeks of badgering, and they encouraged you to try it on. Of course the design choice didn’t go unnoticed by the Legiana, who let out a humored growl meant to lightly tease. ‘A little Leggy,’ they cheerfully remarked.
Sans tail, claws, beak, and more, but the friendly ribbing felt void of the sarcastic undertone that would normally accompany such a statement. In any case, they were immediately ready to soar through the skies with you, but managed to contain themselves (albeit with fidgeting claws and restless wings) while you performed a test run to ensure the thing actually functioned as intended – nothing fancy, just a short glide void of any twists and turns. And when that was out of the way, with nothing else to deter you, it was time for the main event.
So, here you stand on the precipice of safety, a single step from putting your life in the hands of an item you’ve never used until today…No, that’s not true. Your life doesn’t rest on the mantle. Your friend said that they don’t think you’ll crash, but either way, they’ll catch you if anything goes wrong. And while you trust Leggy, you’d greatly prefer if they didn’t put that declaration to the test. But they said they would, so they will.
So why can’t you jump?
You observe your pal’s circuit cut short once again, grateful for the mantle’s hood blocking the sun as an inquisitive squawk leaves no doubts to their growing restlessness.
“Again, when I’m ready! But…” You clench your hands in thought, “…perhaps we should start a little lower to the ground?”
Your suggestion is met with a sigh, complete with an exaggerated eye roll while they repeat the advice given earlier.
“I know more height means more room for mistakes! It also means it hurts more when you hit the ground!” You regret those words the second they pass your lips, because your friend isn’t dense enough to miss the implication, a miffed warble your reward for being stupid.
“Obviously you’ll catch me! It’s just…” You sift through your thoughts for an appropriate choice of words, or a choice you actually want to say. Evidently you aren’t quick enough, because their light-hearted caw makes your heart lurch as you scramble to refute.
“No! No I’m not scared! I know you’ll catch me if needed…it’s just…” Your gaze drifts away. Once more, you attempt to appropriately convey your thoughts, but nothing comes out. Because deep down, you know you don’t have a rebuttal.
Leggy chitters, which you dismiss with a hand wave, letting out a shaky breath as you steel yourself with growing resolve. “No…I can do this. I will jump.”
Your avowal doesn’t carry as much weight as you were hoping it would; Leggy only shakes their head, a bemused squawk confirming their decision that you do, in fact, need help. You frown, voicing your displeasure while they glide over to you.
“I said I’ll do it when I’m ready!”
Your childish outburst goes ignored as they land a short distance away, pulling your attention back from the great beyond and to the sizeable flying wyvern approaching you with quite the amused expression. You can’t help but step away from the ledge, cautiously eying them with nothing less than skepticism. “You better not push me.”
A light scoff and warble assure you that no, they will not do such a thing and they’re only going to guide you through the same routine they went through when they were a chick. Oh, that might help.
You crane your head back as Leggy steps over you, the midday sky replaced with a beige underbelly as they come to a stop. Their long neck bends until they’re observing you upside-down, and you can’t help but smile a little at the display.
A series of instructive chirps have your attention, and you glance over to the wing spreading itself wide in example. A simple enough act to follow.
“Okay.”
You look back to the great landscape below, which is enough to make your breathing hitch. Still, the anxiety clouding your emotions isn’t as pronounced as before. Maybe it’s because you know you aren’t jumping right away? And Leggy is right on top of you. If the number one flier in the Highlands thinks you can do it, why doubt them? Just their presence instills a sliver of confidence; your legs are still weak but there’s little hesitation in the step taken that once again puts you on the cliff’s edge.
Up go your arms, mimicking the action of your friend as their instructions echo in your head: spread your wings out as far as possible, close your eyes, and take deep, collected breaths. The mantle billows out in turn, even the slightest of breezes enough to awaken it. Glancing up to Leggy, your hesitation must be apparent, because an encouraging nod is their only response. And after taking a deep breath, you finally seal away your sight.
Darkness. A growing sense of panic. You haven’t moved at all, and you know full well what lies ahead. All it’ll take is one. Step. Forward. Plunging you into the vast sky –
Stop. Breathe. You aren’t falling. Focus…on something else. Focus on the material snugly wrapped around your form. The wind that catches on the mantle. Your arms are light. It’s the breeze, helping the appendages stay aloft. No…not just your arms, but your body. The air permeates through the fabric, exploring every crease, every meticulously crafted indent, breathing life into the mantle. Into you. Focus. On your ever-crumbling weight. You feel as though you could float if you chose to. A part of you wants to. Your test run did not bestow this…appreciation. But now, you think you’re beginning to understand. The wind…it grants you –
A firm smack to your back brings you crashing back to reality as you’re propelled forward with a grunt. Past the safety of the cliff, where you can finally see what lies directly below. Which isn’t much outside of more oversized coral.
…
YOU’RE FALLING YOU’RE GONNA DIE YOU DON’T WANNA DIE LEGGY SAVE YOU LEGGY WHERE ARE THEY you aren’t falling.
Your screaming peters out into a pitiful whine as your brain catches up to current events, realizing that you are NOT in fact, plummeting to your death, but instead gliding. Your arms never lowered. You never fell straight down to begin with.
While normally your newfound lease on life would warrant a celebration, your pulse is a mess not only from the abrupt cancellation of your death, but the realization that you are many, MANY meters above solid ground. At least the mantle works, though that doesn’t bring much comfort. It better work.
The rush of wings, along with the abrupt disappearance of the sun snaps you out of your mild hysteria as a friendly cry demands your attention. Loath as you are to divert your view from the incoming airspace, you glance upwards, where just off to the side a certain wyvern smiles at you. Of course they’d view it as a good thing.
“No, it doesn’t feel nice! It feels like something knocked me off – “
…
“DID YOU KICK ME OFF THE CLIFF?!”
A hearty crow is their only response while you throw every expletive in the book at them, the harshness diluted by the winds dampening your hearing. Why did you expect anything different? “You jerk! Come down here so I can hit you!”
Leggy opts instead to taunt you, a caw goading you into flying up if you really wanted it.
“You know I literally can’t! Why did you push me?!”
They scoff at your remark, a growl gently reminding you of your inexperience before casually mentioning that their own mother did the same to them. And if it worked then, why wouldn’t it work now?
“Except I can’t fly!”
A non-existent eyebrow raises at that, eying your current situation which only causes you to scowl.
“You know what I mean!”
Leggy chitters, and the annoyed rebuttal brewing in your head simmers down if but for a moment. They’re right, you were getting in the zone...until they decided to induce trial by fire anyway.
Another series of warbles makes you pause. This was the point: to experience the same joys of soaring through the skies that Leggy does. Together. And if you were able to harness that sensation earlier, what’s stopping you from doing so again? Trust the mantle. Trust Yourself. And most importantly…
Trust Leggy.
You slowly nod to no one in particular, and your friend smiles, a hopeful squawk wondering if you’re finally ready to soar like a Legiana.
“I…I think so. Yes.” Your heart rate is higher than you’d prefer but isn’t at critical levels anymore, and you doubt it’s going down until you taste solid ground. Leggy shrieks in delight, causing you to wince as they promise you that it’ll be fun! And you can start by avoiding the upcoming coral in your path.
…The what now?
You tear your eyes away from them to refocus on your flight path, which admittedly is something you never should’ve stopped doing. There aren’t any mountainous coral in the immediate vicinity – Leggy wisely chose a spacious area for you to get your bearings. However, in the distance well below you, several prismatic spires stand tall. If you keep going straight, you’ll pass over them…or at least that’s what you think. Leggy says otherwise and since they’re the expert, you better listen.
You prepare to turn, and…
…
You frantically glance back up, where your friend is wearing quite possibly the most amused expression you’ve ever seen – and likely will ever see – on a Legiana. A single chirp asks the question they already know the answer to; this is teasing, and you can only respond in shame.
“…No.”
A reserved, sharp burst of caws escape their beak; it takes you a moment to realize they’re laughing at you. And equipped with no rebuttal, you resign yourself to a heated face and mild embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah…”
Your instructor, thankfully, is a benevolent wyvern and spares you from an extended session of mockery. A light-hearted crow makes you pout, mumbling to yourself as they reposition. Calling you a chick is one thing, but…
“…I’m not cute...”
Leggy descends while pulling further ahead until they’re not too far below you and just far away enough that you can fully take in their form. Their lengthy neck bends to the side, allowing them to properly observe you as a questioning squawk wonders if you can see all of them.
“I can…! My word, your wingspan is incredible!” Something you’ve seen before, but maybe viewing it from a new perspective makes the difference.
At that, they beam, letting out a growl of thanks before instructing you to pay close attention and SLOWLY follow their lead. Keen on avoiding any accidents, you nod furiously. All your focus has been directed to the two massive leaf-tipped wings you’re supposed to mimic. Take note of their position. How one begins to twist ever so slightly. The gentle tilt downward that causes Leggy to slowly bank to the side, rotating in turn. Ah, you’re turning! You barely realize you were copying them.
You’re content to stay like this, but your mentor has other plans. Their wing adjusts, and they list further to the side, tightening their curve. Now follow their lead, and…
The pair of you dissolve into a slow, controlled downward spiral. This isn’t difficult at all! The harsher the adjustments, the steeper your turn. You get it now. Your attention diverts to Leggy, whose head is somehow maintaining perfect sight of you through the circling. “I think I got it.”
They smile, squawking in approval before instructing you to straighten out. A simple task, since the mantle naturally guides you into position. The wind keeps your arms aloft, and you’re starting to understand that you’ll need to make an active effort to lower them.
As you return to a forward glide, Leggy quickly moves to retake their place in front of you. But something is on your mind. You turned one way, yes, but what about the other? If the motions worked for the left…Your arm acts before your brain does, and you find yourself once again turning, but in the opposite direction. Simple!
You perform a relatively quick loop, smiling to yourself. You wonder what Leggy thinks about your progress…
Your face falls. Oh drat, you were supposed to be following them, not deviating from their course. You’re barely through the first lesson and you’ve already become a rebellious student. Coming back around, you’re already planning out your apology but stop when you spot Leggy hovering in place, who appears to be pleased at your efforts. An encouraging trill confirms it, and you sheepishly try to dismiss the wave of heat spreading through you. Calling you a fast learner over something even a chick instinctively knows, the flatterer…
Wait, is that the ground coming up…? No, those are coral platforms. You’ve almost dropped low enough to re-enter the highlands. And while your newfound abilities have bestowed some confidence in maneuvering around objects, you don’t think this was Leggy’s intention. Thus, you call out to them. “We’re getting closer to the ground! Should we look for someplace to land?”
They don’t seem to be bothered by the development, instead warbling out a question. With the mantle doing all of the heavy lifting, you don’t feel tired in the slightest.
“Uhhhh…no. My arms are still good to go, but I’ll let you know if or when it changes.”
That’s all the confirmation Leggy needs. You watch as they promptly dive underneath you before flipping over, exposing their striped, cream-colored underside to you. Your assumption is that they’re showing off, but then their wings perform a forceful flap that naturally pushes them down and –
“Oh!” You’re caught off guard by the gust of air hitting you, squinting as the mantle further expands from the newly generated wind. You feel even lighter than before…and you’re rising! Leggy’s wings are powerful enough to generate wind pressure. You realize you already knew that, although you didn’t know they were strong enough to grant you height.
Leggy gracefully recovers, flying up only to repeat the maneuver and further your ascension. Afterwards, when they choose to instead resume flight at their default instructing point, you’re admittedly not much farther above where you started, but still impressed all the same.
“Thank you, you’re amazing!” Leggy is positively radiant, and their enthusiasm is starting to rub off on you. Another warble, and you pause in thought. Are you, in fact, ready to truly fly?
“…Yes. Let’s do it.” Whatever ‘it’ is.
A triumphant shriek coaxes another wince out of you, and they cheerfully tell you to follow their lead. Thus begins a slow yet steady glide, away from the comforts of wide-open airspace and towards the natural formations decorating the landscape. A pang of nervousness forms in your gut as you approach, but you remind yourself that it’ll be fine. Those navy-blue wings will guide you through with no trouble. And such a pretty pattern, with star-like shapes fanned across the membrane. The same pattern that adorns your own getup. You huff lightly to yourself. You almost are a little Legiana; a fledgling relying on your parent to teach you the ways of your species.
You pass the first spire with no fanfare. And the second. And a third. There’s ample clearance between the obstacles for your friend to maneuver, so your comparatively tiny frame has almost nothing to worry about. You’re no longer watching their wings either, but their head. Leggy’s vision remains firmly affixed on you – as a result, they’re essentially flying blind, and you’re awestruck over their casual navigation through the scenery without so much as a glance ahead. Considering their calm expression, you don’t think they’re trying to flaunt their skill, but only ensure that you’re okay. Just how familiar are they with the Highlands…?
Naturally, your staring doesn’t go unnoticed, a friendly growl inquiring into your current state. You don’t have to think twice about it.
“Good.” It’s true. Outside of your pulse, which refuses to return to its normal baseline, you’re relatively collected. Leggy caws in approval, their remark on your form sending waves of heat through your face – you can only respond with a mumbled “thanks.”
That must’ve been the assurance they were waiting for, because Leggy straightens their neck for what might be the first time since you started, leaving you to shadow them without visual affirmation. They trust you.
With your sights no longer hard-stuck on your friend’s back, you catch yourself taking the occasional glance at your surroundings, especially the pockets of space far below. With all the colorful coral dotting the view, your eyesight isn’t good enough to discern any ground movement, but Leggy frequently posts around this height while on a hunt; a testament to their visual prowess. They really are amaz–
Suddenly they begin to rise, wings spread wide as they surpass your height…without flapping? You crane your neck, continuing your pitiful descent forward while they shoot further away, What sorcery was that?!
“Oi!” is the only thing you can say before a surge of wind buffets you from below, your mantle spreading wide to accommodate the sudden influx. This airy sensation again…you can feel yourself rapidly ascending, only without Leggy’s assistance this time. This is an updraft!
You ride the current straight up to the Legiana who’s hovering in place with nothing more than slight wing adjustments, patiently waiting on their pint-sized pupil to catch up. As you match their height, the force beneath your arms weakens, and you catch yourself bobbing up and down. This must be where the current ends, comfortably above even the tallest of spires.
Explanatory warbles have your attention: this is an updraft, and the best way for you to gain height when your wings aren’t enough. Even Leggy uses these currents to save energy, and it’s only a matter of knowing where they reside, so you should imprint it into your memory.
You nod. “Right.”
Leggy chirps in delight, then grins. Another series of chirps, and you can’t help but balk at the plan as you circle around them. Learning to glide faster – but not too fast – is a natural stepping stone on the path to proficiency, but…
“…Diving?”
An affirmative growl: you can’t flap your wings, so you’ll have to rely on gravity to grant you speed. That makes sense, only how are you supposed to slow down when you can’t generate force with your ‘wings’?
Their next growl solves that conundrum. Of course. If gravity can speed you up, it can slow you down. You feel a little silly for not figuring it out yourself.
Satisfied with their explanation, Leggy crows out your next task: dive. That’s it. Nothing fancy, just a simple increase in speed. And whenever you feel it’s appropriate, slow down. Not complicated at all, except…
“You aren’t going to guide me?”
A small smile and shake of their head. They’re serious about this. Already your heart lurches at the thought, breaths slowly tightening as the weight of the task sinks in. How are you supposed to do it without their help? And what if something goes wrong? Why are they allowing you to –
A gentle squawk interrupts the growing surge of doubt forming. Leggy must’ve noticed your hesitance. They say it’s not difficult and you already know the motions…you do? That the hard parts are out of the way and you already know how to fly?
The numbness spreading through you falters, but doesn’t dissipate as you glance elsewhere. “…I know you keep praising me…but I doubt I’m that – “
A firm series of caws cuts you off, each one causing your heart to lurch again, albeit for different reasons. You’re like a chick, but even chicks don’t hesitate that much. They complement you because for a creature not born with innate knowledge and with no prior experience, you ARE a fast learner. And of course, because you’re their friend and that’s what friends do.
Your cheeks are burning as Leggy beams, a final encouraging warble demanding that you stop doubting yourself and do what they know you can do and, most importantly, YOU know you can do. Leggy believes in you. They’ve always believed in you.
It’s time to start believing in yourself.
Your stomach is fluttering from more than nerves as you simper, unable to hide it with a hand. They somehow always know just what to say. “…Thank you.”
Leggy dismisses it with an impressive wave of a wing, preferring less sappiness and more flying.
You’re still nervous, but your confidence has reached new heights. They said you can do it, so you will. You adjust yourself so you’re no longer gliding in circles, sticking to a straight path that should lead you out of the updraft. Meanwhile, your mind is racing. You think you know what to do; all that’s left is to try it.
Eventually the breeze underneath you lessens, and you feel gravity properly take hold. Now, twist not one, but both arms, and tilt forward…
The wind picks up, causing you to squint. Your legs start trailing behind, a chill in your gut beginning to form. You’re falling. Not straight down, anyway, but the rapid loss of altitude is enough to get your blood pumping. Your eyes are zeroed in on the coral terrain well below. You have no intention of getting anywhere near it.
This…is fine. More than fine, actually. It’s kind of…fun. Your heart is racing as you angle yourself downwards just a little more, picking up speed. It’s the same as diving into a lake from a high-up tree branch; seeking the rush that comes from falling, right before you hit the water. Except this time, you’re hundreds of meters above the water and said water will kill you if you crash into it.
…Now’s probably a good time to pull up.
The process is natural. You twist your arms in the opposite direction, angling the mantle upward while leveling your form out. Your stomach drops as all the momentum carries into your adjustment, and you promptly find yourself sailing across the skies much faster than before. But that’s short lived as you hold the pose, and find yourself ascending for the first time without external assistance. The more you pull back, the harsher your curve and the more you slow down, gravity doing all the work, until…
…
Your arms return to neutral, letting the mantle take over once more as you’re reset back into the comfortable glide you’ve grown familiar with. You did it…but you don’t really care. As you rose, and at the peak of your ascension, you felt something…something familiar. It came and left too quickly for you to put a name to it. But it felt oddly…good. Good enough that you need to know what it was.
You turn around, and promptly jump as Leggy comes into view, the flying wyvern hovering not too far from you. Stars above, they gave you a fright! Did they follow you the entire time? You never heard a thing from them!
If Leggy notices your surprise, they say nothing. They appear cheerful, a short chitter inquiring about your experience as they take position ahead of you.
“It was fun! I…want to try it again.”
Leggy’s beak curls upward in a grin, teasing you with a squawk.
“I know, I assure you I’m not an adrenaline junkie…I think. Perhaps. It wasn’t just that, it was…I can’t explain, but I need to experience it again.” You’re doing a terrible job of getting your point across, but Leggy merely smiles, softly nodding in understanding. A chirp, and you scoff.
“Of course you can.”
You’re proud to say that even with Leggy leading the way, you know exactly where the previously-used updraft is. And with a little use of your newly acquired skill, it doesn’t take long before you’re being carried back up to a sufficient height for another daring dive.
Your friend crows out to you as you peak, letting you know that they’ll fall in alongside you and to do as you please. But even with the knowledge of their company, you aren’t nervous. Anxious? A little. But not worried.
…Maybe you are becoming a junkie.
You coast out of the current, taking a deep breath. You’re doing the same as before. Mostly.
Arms twisted, lean forward…The hood around your head dances in the wind, a sure sign of your increasing acceleration. Chills. You’re falling. But it isn’t enough.
You slowly bring your arms to your side, fighting against the air rushing through the mantle. You’ve seen Leggy do this before. Your angled descent grows more vertical, your form nearly perpendicular to the ground. The wind howls in your ears, smothering your breathing and assaulting your vision. You can only squint, heart hammering as a grin forms. This adrenaline rush…this speed…
It's not enough.
You tear your gaze away from the ground, searching beside you for your chaperone. True to their word, they aren’t too far away – slightly behind you, wings still spread, and appearing completely calm. Of course your top velocity is nothing more than a casual descent for them. Leggy catches your eye, another grin gracing their beak to match yours. You think they try to say something, but it’s lost in the noise. You can barely hear your own thoughts.
Your focus returns ahead. It feels great, but this isn’t why you wanted to dive again. This is nothing more than a prelude to the main event. Are you ready?
You surrender to the mantle, your arms exploding outwards and making the appropriate adjustments once more as you’re abruptly subject to a harsh force pressing down on you. Hold it…
Your arc is much tighter than before and your sight darkens, a flash of wooziness passing as you swoop back up. Your entire body tingles, and you can’t help but let out a small whoop of exhilaration. To go from staring at the ground, to staring at the clouds…and Leggy?
Your pal has taken point above and ahead of you, rising at the same speed. They’re no longer keeping watch over you, instead pointed straight to the heavens. But their eyes have closed to the world, an oddly serene expression adorning their muzzle.
It’s now that the pressure buffeting your form begins to lessen, and you freeze. This is it, the sensation you were chasing! Focus…on your diminishing weight. You’re no longer a stone plummeting to earth, but a chick attempting to rise. Gravity calls to you, pulling you back by the second. You can’t climb forever, but you don’t need to.
Your ascent has all but deadened, but it doesn’t matter. Focus…on the wind. No…the absence of. The mantle has grown silent, your arms losing their support. So you lower them. You feel…weightless. Floating in the sky, suspended at the apex of your ascension. Tied to nothing. Burdened by nothing. You feel…
Free.
Up above, Leggy has come to a similar stop. With wings spread wide, they let gravity take hold, falling backwards with a lifelessness that would concern you if you weren’t already in the middle of a revelation. The drop is short-lived as they flex their wings, and in an instant they’re right-side up, completing the loop without fanfare.
Your arms come to life on their own, returning to place as your descent begins. Leggy peers back, and after a quick flight adjustment, comes to rest not far beside you. You can see a sparkle in their eye, but they say nothing.
…
“…Is that…how you always feel when flying?”
Leggy muses it over for a few moments, turning away in thought before refocusing on you. A long-winded, melancholic growl denies it. That after some time it lost its luster and became no different than how you likely feel about walking.
Leggy perks up, and the accompanying upbeat warbles send waves of heat spreading through you. But it changes when they’re around you, and they realize it’s a gift to always be appreciated. And they’re glad they can finally appreciate that gift with you.
You smile. None of this would have been possible without their encouragement. They’ve had your back from the start. “Well…thank – “
A firm, yet amused click of their beak shuts you up. No more thanks, they didn’t do anything except nudge you along. Which you disagree with, but you know better than to argue with them.
Leggy scans your getup, a caw questioning your current energy levels. Your arms did experience some strain from your rapid descent, but outside of that…
“Nope, still good to go. Why, you have something planned?”
Your friend looks at you like you’ve grown three heads before launching into an excited series of chirps. Why of course they have something planned! You’re no longer a chick, but a full-grown Legiana and it’s time to soar like one!
“…I…”
With an elated shriek, Leggy dives ahead, calling out for you to keep up as they zoom further away.
…
To your credit, you don’t hesitate for long before following suit, relishing the familiar din of wind gracing your ears while you pick up speed. They’re right, you aren’t a chick. Maybe not a Legiana either, but who cares?
You can fly like one.