«As you wish.»
Another exhilarating spin, and then Zan’s wings pump differently, slowing his descent.
I can’t see for the flurry of snow his wings send sailing into the air.
But when I can feel him go still, I slide off of him to the ground.
And promptly slip and fall on my butt.
The ground is ice. Right.
I blink up at Zan, dazed.
«Are you all right?» he asks.
“That was the best thing I have ever done in my entire life,” I tell him fervently.
Once again I feel more than see his pleasure at that statement—wild joy but also smugness.
My smile is going to break my face.
He liked flying with me, too.
So we should do that again as soon as possible, which means getting what we came here for.
I get to my feet more carefully.
There’s plenty of ice around all right.
“Okay, so how do we carry this down?” I ask.
Zan doesn’t answer.
I look at him when I feel sheepishness coming through his telepathic communication.
“Zan?”
«I was so excited about flying with you that I didn’t think about that,» he grumbles.
I burst out laughing.
But it’s also built on the growing realization—
He wants this as much as I do.
Once I’ve gotten a hold of myself, we get to work, taking turns using our magic to blast the ice in ever more creative ways.
The first challenge is not blasting it so hard that it just melts—or damages the mountain. (Oops.)
But once we’ve calibrated a little better, we work on carving away a great big chunk that Zan assures me won’t be too heavy to carry in his claws.
Then I use my wrath to keep his claws warm without him having to actually heat them with his inner fire, which would melt the ice.
That cast, I mount up again, and we take off.
This time, now that he’s not worried about distracting me and making me fall off, Zan is chattier.
He performs dips and whirls that have me laughing with delight.
