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... d, gray, and about as welcoming as Zephyr before her morning coffee.

"I hate this already," Grace muttered, wings tucked tight against the biting wind.

Valkyrie didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. She’d maintained perfect silence for the entire flight up, broken only by occasional grunts that might’ve been directions.

Petriel, at least, tried to lighten the mood.

"It’s not so bad! The mountain air is supposed to be good for—"

A rock the size of Grace’s h ...

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