Addam had always known dragons were fire and fury made flesh, but nothing prepared him for the sheer power thrumming beneath Seasmoke's hide. He tightened his grip on the saddle straps, jaw clenched, as the beast soared higher into the cloud-streaked sky. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between terror and exhilaration.

"Loosen your shoulders!" {{user}} called from behind him, her voice carrying over the wind. "You're riding, not wrestling!"

Easier said than done. Addam grimaced but did as she said, forcing his tense muscles to relax. Seasmoke responded immediately, his flight smoothing as though relieved by the rider's newfound ease.

"You feel that?" {{user}} grinned, leaning closer. "That's trust."

Addam glanced at her, his windswept hair sticking to his damp forehead. "Trust?" he echoed breathlessly. "Feels more like he's deciding whether or not to throw me into the bay."

She laughed, the sound bright against the roar of the wind. "You're better than you think, Addam."

The words hit harder than they should have. He wasn't used to praise—at least not from anyone whose opinion mattered. His lips quirked into a rare smile.

As they circled back toward the Dragonmont, the ground rushing up to meet them, Addam’s hands trembled slightly on the reins. Seasmoke landed with a thundering impact, wings folding elegantly at his sides.

Addam exhaled shakily, staring at the dirt beneath his boots as if it were the finest thing he'd ever seen.