"Ready Jolt?" Rylan asked, settling into the rough saddle. 

The large black Pyron reared his head and snorted, looking up into the sky. 

"Me too," Rylan whispered, pressing himself to Jolt's neck. They'd been scavenging for months now, gathering nuts and berries, while Jolt killed prey. Rylan had been watching the wild dragons flying with a growing sense of envy. And now, finally, Jolt was ready.

He was about the length of a Monstrous Nightmare, with a pair of long, curving yellow horns. His stripe pattern was somewhat different from his mother's, though they were the same vivid color. While his large yellow eyes could be ferocious when he was stalking prey, when Rylan looked into them all he could see was trust and devotion. 

Jolt's wings were huge and bat-like, ready to sweep the wind under them. And Rylan was eager to go. All of his supplies were in his backpack, and Jolt was finally ready.

They stood on the edge of a sheer cliff, the cold, dead wind of Outcast island sweeping up toward them. Though the ground was covered in mist, the sky was blazing with light and color. It called to Rylan like nothing ever had. 

Jolt shifted on the ledge, claws curled over the brink. Rylan took one last breath, then whispered, "Go Jolt."

The vast wings stretched out, filling with wind. The next moment, they were gone. 

Wind rushed through Rylan's vest, filling him with a kind of fierce strength. Jolt rocketed skyward, up through the clouds. Sunlight and shadow danced around them, flitting in and out with the wind. 

Jolt's wings pumped steadily, carrying them farther and farther away from the prison of Outcast island. Rylan twisted around in his seat and yelled, "You don't own me!"

Jolt gave an echoing cry, then folded his wings and dived. The sea soared closer, growing larger with every second. Rylan started to panic. Jolt couldn't pull up in time. Just as it seemed they must crash, Jolt jerked open his wings. 

They filled with air, and he was off again, sailing over the ocean, Rylan on his back.