Marcus rode Blackie through the open sky, cloak fluttering behind him like the banner of a wandering knight. For a time he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of flight, the wind rushing past his face and the endless horizon stretching before him. It was exhilarating in a way that never quite grew old. Still, a faint trace of regret lingered in his thoughts. Such a magnificent sight deserved an audience, yet there was no companion nearby to witness his heroic display.
With a quiet chuckle at his own vanity, Marcus abandoned the idea of showing off and turned his attention back to business. Blackie's steady gallop through the air carried them forward as Marcus leaned slightly over the saddle, carefully surveying the terrain below.
Blue Ant Valley revealed itself beneath him like an ancient scar carved into the world.
