I'm flying.

The wind slides across my skin and leaves goose bumps behind. I'm not cold, just excited. Tahr turns sharply and a heavy gust pries my headpiece up a bit. I pull it back down and keep a tight hold on the saddle with one hand. Tahr can't see my smile or my tears of happiness. I'm flying and this is miraculous.

As Tahr flies me through the clouds, a heavy ache settles between my shoulder blades and reminds me of the discomfort from the last time I jumped from ...