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After thinking about it, it made sense. A Dragonfly’s range couldn’t be that far. He shouldn’t have held on to such unrealistic fantasies from the start.
While Falling Feather frowned, Little Feather who had followed him into the cockpit was oblivious as it let out a familiar roar in excitement. “Fuck!”
The voice behind him almost caused Falling Feather to choke on his own spit. He sprang up from the seat and scolded the little creature. “Don’t learn that. It's not a nice thing to say.”
“Yiwu?” Little Feather tilted its head. The tendrils at the back of its head rippled in puzzlement, as if it didn’t understand his reaction.
As Falling Feather lectured Little Feather, several figures approached the Eagle fighter they had passed earlier.
If Falling Feather had still been standing there earlier he would have been surprised. The pilot of the Cutlass he thought he had blown to pieces actually survived!
Even so, the man looked haggard and far from well.
Handcuffs with a fashionable design hung from his wrists as he was sandwiched between two armed guards.
A few men in white uniforms stood in front of him, peering with interest at the plane overrun by slime mold...
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