Right now, Keith and Mystique perched atop an enormous bird called roc, with its size half of Stravwuark, the Thunderbird Monarch. Fortunately, for years, he became proficient at riding these kinds of birds—wild or not—as part of his training.
Its feathers swished through the air
Though this time, he almost outdid himself.
The white and gold-brown feathers swished through the air, almost on the verge of plucking them out.
Winds went all out with its ferocity, turning to a gale as it slammed and scratched through his face, and left his eyes almost run dry and ears went abuzz from the noise. White puffs of clouds turned like smoke wafting past them.
They already took flight for quite some time, and now gripped the leash, that also around its beak, to the left, screeching in the air as it turned toward what seemed to the north.
