"Aerial tag still isn't my game. What now?" Adyr stood at the rim of the islet, eyes fixed on the Sparks drifting and darting wherever the wind carried them, mind turning over possible solutions.
On the ground, he would have ended it quickly. His footwork and acceleration were stronger there; angles, feints, and cuts came naturally when his soles touched earth.
In the air, he had only the basics—up, down, forward, and a hard brake—enough to stay aloft, not enough to carve precise lines.
He was still a novice at flight, relying on the Dawn Raven's coded instincts and the few sessions of practice he had forced into his muscles. Nowhere near a professional.
"What is the source of this wind?" He shifted frames and treated the problem as an environment rather than a target.
