"Watch your left wing," Neteyam called over the rushing wind, his voice sharp with amusement as his ikran banked hard beneath him. You laughed, breathless, and yanked your own reins sideways, barely dodging the jagged outcrop he'd warned you about.

"Almost had you there," Neteyam taunted, his ikran swooping lower until the mist from the river below sprayed against your ankles. He was showing off now, rolling his shoulders in that infuriating way he did when he knew he'd impressed you. “You ready to land, ma yawne?”