(COMPLETE)
Lady Mhysra Kilpapan was blessed from birth with a distinguished family, a glorious home and a giant eagle miryhl of her own. Fully aware of her luck, she wants for nothing in life - except a chance to become a Rift Rider. The elite force...
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"YOU CAN COME out now. He's gone."
Mhysra blinked. "Who?"
Her miryhl chuckled. "The handsome one, with pale hair and sharp eyes. Don't think I haven't noticed."
She raised her eyebrows. "Noticed what? You've apparently noticed a lot more than I have."
"Liar." Cumulo chortled. "You won't even speak to him. Taken with him, are you?"
Pushing away, she stared at the eagle incredulously. "Don't be daft. The man despises me. He barely waited for my back to turn before trying to steal you. Taken with him? Ha!"
Cumulo's eyes glowed with amusement. "My mistake. But he is a fine looking human."
"He's a miserable killjoy, with eyes that could cause cloud frost. I prefer Lieutenant Stirla."
"Well, I like Lieutenant Lyrai. Even his name sounds better. If I wasn't bonded to you, I'd be tempted."
"Except you wouldn't be here, because you're too young. By the time you were old enough he'd be bonded again, so wipe that smug look off your face. You've got me, you were born with me and you're stuck with me. Be happy."
Lowering his beak against her chest, he hummed contritely. "I am happy, chickling. No one could be happier than me. Well, maybe I might be if..."
Sighing, she shoved him away. "What now?"
"My saddle. Come on, misery, let's fly."
Mhysra's grouchiness vanished. She no longer cared that every Rider within ten leagues wanted to steal her miryhl, nor that her miryhl was too vain to stop them from trying. She didn't even care about Cumulo teasing her over the lieutenant anymore. He wanted to go flying. Having never turned down such an offer – rain, snow or sunshine – she ran to the tack room, snatched up his tack and put it on with practised efficiency.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he strutted out into the bitter day.
"Anywhere as long as it's up," Cumulo replied, stretching his wings. "Hop on, chickling, we haven't long before it snows again."
When he lowered his wing, she stepped onto the joint and straddled the saddle, slipping her feet into the stirrups and her knees under his wings. She wasn't really dressed for a long flight, but even without a cold weather flying coat or flight helmet, she wanted to escape. Anything to get away from the ground and all the things trying to hold her back from this life she had been born to. "All set?" she asked, picking up the reins.
"Hang on." Cumulo flapped to make sure nothing interfered with his flight muscles, then spread and waggled his tail, just for show. He hopped two paces. "All's well."
Bounding forward one stride, two, he opened his wings and jumped. The first flap barely lifted them off the ground, but the second carried them higher and, with a last push of his feet, they were airborne. He flapped laboriously, grunting with each downward pull as they covered the field and rapidly approached the cliff. Cumulo shrieked as he angled his wings, holding them fully extended, and swept around in a steep curve that barely avoided the mountainside.
