Obnoxious Airhead

With backpacks slung over their shoulders, the group got their first glimpse of Rio. The airport in Praia do Galeaão fanned out like the spokes on a wheel, with airplanes of every color in the process of loading and unloading their passengers. In the distance a beach could be seen, and Katalea had a momentary longing for a high-speed run in her feline shape down the white sands at home. Two by two, they ambled slowly down the airstairs, trying to find coordination in their limbs after so many hours of non-use.

They were met by two lovely assistants, dressed in conservative navy blazers with crisp white shirts beneath. Beecher’s eyes gleamed incredulously when they explained that the group would not need to join the thousands of other travelers at the customs office. They had a private customs area set up just for them.

Katalea smiled at Dakari, “Leave it to Grandfather to do things with style,” she messaged him.

He discreetly nodded and followed the others to the