And just as Kaya expected, even though she didn't move much—and Cutie was holding her so tightly that she barely even flinched—she felt it. The shift in the wind, the way the air now slapped against her face, sharper and colder.
Then came the faintest change in posture—Cutie moving slightly, adjusting her in his arms. He turned her head gently, shielding one side of her face with his palm, the other pressed against his chest. His arms tightened around her, one hand covering her ear as if trying to block the roar of the wind.
But even through that cocoon of warmth and protection, she could still feel it—the rush, the pressure, the wild freedom of the air tearing past them. From that alone, she could tell—they had picked up speed. A lot of it.
The flight continued for days. Kaya and the others didn't stop at any nearby tribes—they couldn't. Each tribe had its own boundaries, its own people, and it wasn't as if you could just drop by uninvited and expect a warm welcome.
