The wind hit different at this altitude.
Not the controlled recycled air of the Eternal Pyre that she had been breathing for weeks on end. This was actual wind, moving because it wanted to, carrying things in it, temperature and moisture and the smell of something green and alive below. Diana had forgotten what real wind felt like. She hadn't realized she'd forgotten until right now with it pushing against her face and her hair doing things it hadn't done in months.
She was flying.
Well. She was sitting on something that was flying. Something that wasn't there if you looked directly at it, just a shimmer in the air that could be heat distortion or nothing at all depending on how hard you were paying attention. The saddle Kelvin had rigged for her was practical and nothing else, just something to grip and something to sit on, strapped across a back that didn't exist to anyone watching from the ground.
She looked down.
