Jaspar helps her out, if he can, and climbs onto the bird in front of her. He checks his pack, then gives the tamer a thumbs up. With a barked command the gukko's wings spread wide, and within moments they're off, rising into the sky. Jaspar leans low, holding onto the reins, and Ilza would find she has similar grips for herself. The bird carries them up, and up, and up, until the obsidian crags below are a glimmering tapestry in the light of the setting sun.
"So?" Jaspar calls over his shoulder, his voice muffled by the rush of wind. "What do you think?"
Pheore is silent, her eyes almost blank as she looms over him. She pulls her sword back, into the air as if to strike. But when she brings her arm down to strike, it isn't the blade - she instead rams the hilt into his mask, right above his forehead.