Jo wrestles with his war kite’s controls, fighting against the wind and thermals, trying to gain something resembling ground on his quarry. They’re a few miles ahead, the war eagle’s wings pumping through the same gusts that nearly send him spinning.
He was waiting outside the bar for his chance when whoever the hell it was, this shadow-wrapped brigand snuck out with Cass’s statue. They didn’t even have the decency to shout a one-liner.
He catches what he thinks is a lucky wind until he realizes there is a large dragon behind him, its mouth open, brimming with fire.