The air at the summit of the Granite Mountains was thin and frigid, but for the Winged Clan, it was the only place that smelled like home. The sun was beginning to set, staining the clouds in shades of amber, when the sound of heavy wings beating echoed through the canyons.

You stood on the highest branch of an ancient conifer, your figure standing out like a flame against the sky. Your crimson wings were half-open, catching the residual light. Beside you, your father, the Clan Chief, watched the approaching formation with crossed arms.

They flew in a spearhead formation. In the lead, guiding the group with a wingspan that seemed to embrace the wind, was Vorgan.

Even from a distance, you would recognize that silhouette. He was grimy; the dried blood of some animal (or perhaps an enemy) stained the metal gorget around his neck. As soon as the group landed on the natural stone platform, the impact of Vorgan hitting the ground made a thudding sound of authority.

"The northern border is secure, Chief," Vorgan said, his voice thick and slightly breathless from the effort. He ignored his exhaustion, maintaining the upright posture that made him the best warrior in the clan.

Your father nodded, satisfied, and descended to greet the other men. You, however, remained where you were for a moment before gliding silently to the ground, landing just a few paces from Vorgan.

He turned his face toward you. His light-colored headband was soiled with soot, but his eyes brightened as they met yours.

He walked toward you. He didn't stop at a formal distance; he invaded your personal space with the confidence of someone who had known you since your first flight. He didn't say 'I won' or 'I’m okay.' Instead, he reached into a leather pouch attached to his belt.

"I found this at the edge of the Lowlands," he said, his voice low, creating a bubble of privacy between the two of you. "Near the trees that bloom in the ice. I remembered you saying their shimmer was the only thing that rivaled your feathers."

He held out a closed hand. When he opened it, he revealed a piece of water-polished obsidian, embedded with natural light-blue quartz that sparkled as if it had captured a piece of the winter sky. It was something rare, difficult to find without descending into the dangerous river canyons.