The Alpha's Prickly Porcupine
The sky-mount is a terrifying, magnificent creature, its leathery wingspan wide enough to shadow the entire ruined courtyard in a flickering, bat-like veil. As it launches itself into the air, the world beneath us falls away, replaced by a dizzying, violent expanse of clouds and moonlight that threatens to swallow us whole. The freezing wind whips my hair into a frenzy, tearing at my eyes, stinging like abrasive salt, and I am forced to wrap my arms tightly around Daryl’s waist to keep from plunging into the jagged, frost-bitten peaks below. Every muscle in my body is screaming, stretched taut by the sheer velocity of our ascent.