The wind's sharpness slides past his skin. The world before his eyes is a blur, as though he was traveling through time. Nothing but the savage noise of the whooshing air filled his air, turning him deaf to the world. Breath speeding, Moulin fearfully grabbed the scales of the unmoving beast, his companion of the fall. It felt as though he'd meet the ground tragically in the next second. Such thoughts didn't help him at all. However, he was too panicked even to think rationally.
The ice daggers embedded within the crimson creature's back slowly withdrew as they fell. Moulin lowered his head, shutting his eyes lest he'd let the wind beat his pupils red. His heartbeat quickened erratically. What should he do?
The daggers dissipated and finally left the creature's body. Moulin's jaw clenched. They are falling fast! The drop will undoubtedly be their end!
Suddenly, Moulin stopped, sensing a bit of movement beneath his fingers. Silver eyes narrowed suspiciously.
