Flit once again was nowhere to be found. Mark feared that perhaps something wrong had happened to his new companion, but he immediately shook away the worry, he couldn't afford to have his mind divided, his foe would capitalize on that.
Mark held out his hands in a boxer's stance. The Ockler beastskin craned his neck to the side, curious about the position Mark had taken.
He stood elegantly, with wings down and not akimbo as the Yellow Phoenix pair had been.
'How's he staying afloat with his feathers down?' Mark was a little puzzled, if it could fly without flapping then what was the use of the wings?
He knew soon enough.
Multitudes of feathers shot at him once the Ockler beastskin threw open his arms. They were like bullets, fast and unforgiving.
