As soon as Zef stepped from Featherlight Inn, he halted and stared.

There, opposite of where he'd left Gail sitting, a huge gray bird stood. With its wings spread, it was easily a dozen times Zef’s size. Its coloring was the mottled gray of a thundercloud’s underbelly.

The greathawk. And they were supposed to ride it.

Lightning-violet eyes, set in a permanent glare, found Zef as he tentatively approached. He made sure to keep Imyla between him and the creature. His reticence didn't go unnoticed.

"Shrike won't harm you, dweller. Not unless I tell him to." With a glimmer in her eyes, the windcaller stepped close to the hawk and cooed softly to him as she stroked the plumage on his neck. Shrike yielded to her, but kept his intense gaze on Zef.

"You named your greathawk… after a smaller bird?"

Zef was relieved to hear Gail coming up behind him, having mostly caught his breath again, though the walking looked difficult. By habit, Zef reached out to steady him, but his brother only shook his head.

He let his hand fall, trying not to feel hurt. His brother deserved to keep his pride when he could afford to, though it was never easy to feel dismissed.

"I did," Imyla answered, the corners of her mouth tweaking. “So, you two are twins. Curious.”

Zef cocked an eyebrow at her. “Most people can’t tell.”

“Oh, there are certainly differences. But to those who know what to look for, it’s undeniable.” Tilting her head, she peered at Gail. “You have always found it difficult to breathe?”

Gail nodded. Zef knew he didn’t like to waste air when he didn’t have to.

Imyla’s lips quirked in a smile. Before Zef had a chance to ask what that meant, she was already turning away.

“Now then, time to load up. I have better things to do than transport orphaned twins, you know."

With that, the skyscribe attached her possessions onto an intimidating saddle strapped between her mount’s broad shoulders. Zef couldn't see how one person could stay on the oversized bird, much less three. With the greathawk standing, they would have to climb their way onto it.

"I'll be fine," Gail muttered as he walked past him. Each step looked uncertain, but determination was a cloud around his brother as he approached the greathawk.

"Wasn't worried about you," Zef muttered under his breath as he fetched their belongings and scurried after.

By the time he reached the other two, Gail was already clambering atop Shrike's back, yanking on feathers to reach the saddle above. Zef watched with bated breath until he reached the saddle. Imyla nimbly climbed up after to belt him in. If the greathawk took offense to his new rider, he didn't show it. But then, his stare always seemed to rest on Zef.

As Zef passed before the greathawk, one taloned foot raised slightly. He stiffened, ready to throw himself to the side in case the bird swiped. Instead, the talons only clacked down on the cobblestones in a rhythmic staccato.

"He likes you," Imyla noted as she sauntered up to him.

"Seems like the opposite." He didn't dare pull his eyes away from the greathawk for even a moment.

"Oh, there's a bit of wariness to him, alright. But that's just the respect he gives to rivals."

"If he sees me that way, I don't think we'll be rivals for long."

The windcaller laughed, a high, merry sound that reminded Zef of a bird call. It tugged out a smile of his own.

"Take it as a compliment, dweller.”

Still wondering what would possess the bird to feel such about him, Zef followed his brother's lead, if a bit more adeptly, up the greathawk's back and into the saddle. At Imyla's directions, he secured their meager possessions and seated himself just behind Gail; a placement that suited him, as he'd feel better making sure he didn't fall off in the flight to come. To make no mention now he wouldn't have the dubious honor of gripping the A'avi around the waist. It was uncomfortable enough as she scurried past him and secured his legs to the saddle with several straps.

Then the windcaller was past and settled in the front—or top, as it were—and let out a sharp whistle. Zef barely had time to seize two handfuls of feathers before Shrike crouched, spread his wings, and surged upward.

Then, for the first time, Zef flew.

His fear vanished at once. With each mighty flap of the greathawk's wings, the ground grew farther away. Zef watched everything and everyone he knew shrink until they became ants. The people on the streets craned back their heads to watch them. Part of him wondered if it was wise to lean so far so he could look, but the thrill of the flight overwhelmed caution. He grinned, and not just because of the wind pulling at his skin.

"Are you seeing this?" he shouted up at his brother.

"Trying… to stay… on!" He could barely hear Gail over the roar of the wind.

For once, Zef wasn't consumed by worry for his brother. He'd always dreamed of flying. But on the ground, dreams never came true. He'd never thought they would.

Now… who knew?