Two hundred feet to the earth. Then a hundred. Manon couldn’t get down a breath. Fifty feet. And as the ground seemed to rise to meet them, Manon heard Petrah’s only words to Iskra like they had been carried on the wind. “For Keelie.” Petrah’s wyvern flung out its wings, banking sharper than any wyvern Manon had ever witnessed. Rising up, wing tip grazing the icy ground before it shot back into the skies. Leaving Iskra and her bull to splatter on the earth.
