The icy wind cut at their faces like tiny, invisible blades, but Strax didn't seem bothered. Mounted on the massive back of Shura, the white tiger, he surveyed the horizon covered by an endless blanket of snow. The forest that had once surrounded them was now far behind—the ground was a mixture of ice and rock, and the increasingly thin air carried the distant scent of the deep north.
Scarlet was right behind him, her legs crossed over the tiger's back as if on a leisurely journey, her red hair fluttering in the biting wind. She adjusted her cloak, sighing.
"You know," she began, in a light but provocative tone, "sometimes I wonder why we go to so much trouble."
Strax looked over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"
"What do I mean?!" she laughed, pointing to the icy horizon. "We're literally crossing half a continent riding a giant tiger, facing wind, ice, and death by hypothermia... when we can both fly." She gestured with her hands. "Fly, Strax! Cut through the sky in minutes!"
