Cold morning air rushed beneath Kristen's wings the second she cleared off the ground.
She immediately regretted existing.
Thermals hadn't properly been made in this backward world yet, which meant that it was freezing and also tiring. Cruel.
Lucia climbed steadily ahead, her wingbeats strong despite the earlier accident. Olivia followed just below her, adjusting subtly to the wind currents like she was solving a puzzle mid-flight.
Kristen lagged behind by several wing-lengths.
"This is oppression," she muttered between breaths. "This is what oppression feels like."
"No one forced you to come," Olivia called back without turning.
"How dare you!"
They climbed higher.
The grassland shrank beneath them, the forest becoming a thin green scar in the background. Morning light spilled fully over the land now, burning away the last scraps of fog. The forest no longer looked ominous from this height.
It just looked vast.
And very easy to get lost in.
Kristen risked a glance downward.
"…You know," she began, slightly winded, "if that thing was in the trees, we are definitely out of range now."
Lucia's voice drifted back calmly. "We are not assuming it was confined to the trees."
Kristen groaned loudly.
"Why must we assume the worst every time?"
"Because the worst keeps attempting to interact with us," Olivia replied.
They finally hit a warmer current.
Lucia tilted one wing and adjusted her angle. "Now."
Olivia mirrored the movement instantly.
Kristen fumbled for half a second before catching the lift, and then relief washed over her as the air began to carry her instead of fighting her.
"Oh thank the heavens," she breathed. "Gliding is superior. Gliding is civilisation."
The three of them levelled out, cutting eastward across the expanding landscape.
At this height they saw the full view of the pinkish yellow sunset, small clouds adding to the amazing sight.
Silence settled for a while.
Just wind.
Just flaps of wings.
Just the steady rhythm.
Kristen's exhaustion dulled slightly under the cool air rushing past her face. Flying always did that burned away panic and replaced it with focus.
"…If it shows up again," Kristen said, trying for casual and landing somewhere near strained, "we're fighting it, right? Not just passing out and improvising?"
Lucia didn't even look at her.
"Yes."
Olivia added, "But if it does happen again make sure to save both of us, and set us down softly. Not like the before, I think I have bruise from that."
Kristen sighed. "You two always want everything I mean, seriously, I feel like a bit more of gratitude is due."
"It isn't that hard to do," Lucia replied evenly, "and if you do do it then you probably won't die alone."
Kristen opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it.
Annoyingly, that made sense.
They flew on.
The sun climbed higher, warming the currents beneath them. The world stretched open in every direction beautiful, indifferent, enormous.
For the first time that morning, nothing chased them.
Kristen exhaled slowly.
"…Fine," she muttered to herself. "We leave. We get stronger. We don't get slapped by aquatic limbs ever again."
Ahead of her, Lucia's silhouette remained steady against the light.
A small wobble disrupted her flight.
"Stay steady," Lucia called back without turning her head.
"I am steady," Kristen replied defensively, immediately overcorrecting and dipping several feet before regaining control. "That was a stylistic manoeuvre."
Olivia didn't even glance at her. "Your left wing is lagging." Kristen grumbled but did what she had suggested.
They climbed for another stretch of sky before Lucia gradually dipped her wing.
"Lets go lower," Lucia said.
No one argued because descending meant less flapping.
They angled down toward the rolling plains, keeping enough altitude to avoid ground predators but low enough to properly observe the land ahead. The terrain shifted again as they flew, patches of dirt widened, grass thinned, and eventually a thin brown line cut across the earth like a scar.
"A road," Olivia noted.
It wasn't large, but it was clearly worn by repeated travel. Wagon tracks carved twin grooves into the dirt. Footprints overlapped in layers. The earth there was compacted and lighter in colour.
Kristen perked up. "Could we follow it?"
Lucia nodded.
Lucia gave a small nod. "And boats mean distance."
They circled once, high enough not to draw attention.
A small group was moving along the road five figures, two carrying long poles across their shoulders with bundles hanging from either end. One pushed a small handcart. Their clothing was plain, travel-worn.
Dockworkers, maybe.
"They're heading east," Olivia observed. "If this road connects to a trade route, it will likely lead to water."
Kristen's bad atitude momentarily gave way to excitement. "So we just… follow them?"
"From a distance," Lucia said.
They lowered further, keeping to the side where scattered trees offered visual cover. From above, they would look like ordinary wild birds drifting between the air.
The group below chatted idly, unaware of the three black shadows trailing them.
The road widened gradually as they continued. Other travellers began to appear first a lone man with a walking stick, then a pair of women guiding a mule, then an actual wagon creaking slowly under the weight of crates.
The smell reached them before the sight did.
An unmistakable stench of salt, sadness and underpaid workers.
Kristen's eyes widened.
"Oh thank everything."
The horizon shifted from rolling land to a deep, endless blue.
The sea.
Sunlight scattered across its surface in reflections of gold. Wooden structures jutted out into the water, long docks lined with ships of varying sizes. Some were small fishing vessels, others large trade ships with tall masts and furled sails.
The road led directly into a bustling harbour city.
Voices carried upward. The thud of crates. The slap of rope against wood. The distant cry of gull like birds circling overhead.
They hovered slightly higher, taking it all in.
Boats meant escape.
Boats meant another continent.
Boats meant no more identity issues.
'Hehe guess this means I have to get a fake passport or something.'
Lucia guided them toward the outskirts of the city rather than the center. Warehouses lined the outer docks, large, square buildings with slanted roofs and minimal windows. Fewer people moved there compared to the main piers.
The majority of building were made of cobble and looked extremely uncomfortable to be in, or at least, that what Kristen thought.