SF Drabble #465 "Atmosphere"

Hraff stepped out into the air and spread his wingtips wide, leaned into a slow bank down and away, painted ever-widening imaginary circles across the mesa below during a leisurely descent from the aerie.

"He's healing well," observed Jorge.

"He's still not sure of himself," Perry answered, worry in her voice. "He used to dive  almost the whole way straight down before pulling out of it, and now... now it's like he's afraid he might shear his wings off."

"You're wrong," Jorge said. "You're projecting."

"I'm not—"

"Look at him. Watch him. He's just enjoying being in the sky again."

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