A sharp, piercing cry sliced through the moonlit sky above the southern ridge. It dropped from the high cloud deck like a bolt of golden lightning.
The wind parted before an amazing wingspan of burnished sky gold. Da Peng, the Golden-Winged Wind-Storm Roc, swept down over the canopy of iron-bark pines, the downdraft of his arrival setting the needles whispering in sweeping waves. Before his talons could touch the mossy earth, the majestic thirty-meter hunting beast began to fold his massive form inward. Golden feathers rippled with spatial water drops, shrinking his huge frame down until he was no larger than a sleek, elegant hunting falcon with eyes like crackling golden sparks.
With a soft, affectionate flutter, the tiny roc landed lightly upon Lin Xiao’s outstretched forearm, having reformed his human scholar guise to welcome his friend.
“Good evening, Da Peng,” Lin Xiao greeted him with a warm smile, using his thumb to scratch the sleek feathers at the base of the bird’s golden crest. Da Peng let out a low, trilling chirp of contentment, closing his golden nictitating membranes as he leaned into the scratch. “I know it’s past your usual roosting hour. But our basement just gained an extra few miles of depth.”
