Covath tipped his head back and several gruff and oddly musical sounds fell from his throat. There was a slight flutter above and then five other horses, similar to Orion but considerably smaller, landed. They pranced along the cliff’s edge.
Covath gave an imperious gesture at the horses.
Shea gave into the inevitable. “I don’t suppose there’s a saddle or reins I could use?”
Orion stomped his hoof, nearly crushing Shea’s in the process.
“I was just asking,” she told him.
Orion tossed his head up and down in answer.
“It’s like Rava, himself, has come down to bestow his blessing on us. Wilhelm and the rest are never going to believe this,” Trenton said in a hushed voice, his gaze almost worshipful as he stared at the sight before him.
Rava was one of the many gods the Trateri worshipped. Said to take the form of a horse capable of flight, the Trateri told stories of how his mighty strides stirred up the air, bringing the rain when he galloped.
Trenton moved toward the closest horse, his posture oddly tentative for the normally confident man.
Eva staggered up to Shea, her gaze never once leaving the horses. “Even if I live to be a hundred, I will never forget this night.”
“Are you coming then?” Shea asked a hint of teasing in her voice.
Eva’s head whipped towards Shea, her eyes wide and slightly panicked.
“It’s alright, Eva,” Shea assured her. “I don’t expect you to brave the Badlands. You’ve done enough. My previous orders still stand. When we leave, make your way back to Caden and give him news of this.”
Eva’s expression lightened and her gaze turned back to the winged horses. “It looks like your concern about your friends was unfounded.”
It definitely seemed that way.
Shea turned to Eva and held out her hand.
Eva clasped it. “Safe travels, Telroi.”
Shea gave her a nod and moved away, approaching the horses with caution.
“Your mother would have liked to have seen this,” Patrick said in a low voice when she got close. He patted her on the back before stepping toward his horse.
Buck and Reece had already climbed onto the back of their winged mounts.
Shea walked toward Orion, her body braced in case he decided to take a chomp out of her.
Orion snorted but let her near, even moving to a small rock so she could mount easier.
She gave him a wide berth, clambering onto the rock and adjusted her pack. “Just don’t drop me.”
She gingerly set her palms on his shoulders and lifted a leg over his back. The wings presented a momentary problem before she figured out a way to arrange herself.
She looked up, ready.
Before she could say anything to the others, Orion lunged forward, his powerful strides carrying them over the side of the cliff. Shea sucked in a harsh breath, somehow swallowing back her scream as her stomach leapt into her throat. The ground rushed up at them with a dizzying speed.
Orion’s wings snapped out, catching the wind. Then suddenly, they were flying. The wind rushed past Shea, yanking at her hair and clothes with greedy hands. Orion’s wings beat, carrying them higher and higher, the others following at a fair distance.
Shea huddled into her jacket as the temperature dropped the more their altitude climbed. She found herself grateful she’d had the foresight to don her scout’s jacket before leaving camp. It offered a little protection from the chill.
They were high in the air when Orion spread his wings wide to catch the wind currents and coast, his wings beating every now and then.
The early morning hours passed slowly as Shea shifted, trying to ease the discomfort in her legs without sending herself crashing to the ground. She couldn’t check on the others. Not with the wind rushing past. It would rip the sound of her voice away before it reached them. She had to assume from their presence that they were surviving.
