provide a startling contrast to the white snow, its parapets and towers stretching high into the bright blue sky.
Flint turns his long, majestic neck so he can glance back and check on me, and I hold on tight, expecting us to quickly drop back down to the ground.
But I totally underestimated Flint—big surprise—because instead of heading for the ground, he takes a tight turn in midair and heads straight up, up, up into the sky.
“Oh my God! What are you doing?” I screech, but he doesn’t so much as look back at me. Instead he just goes faster.
I expect Hudson to complain, but when I glance at him, he’s got a full-blown grin on his face. Then again, it’s not like he’s got the same fear of dying that I do…
We’re back to flying vertically now, and I bite back a scream as I hold on as tightly as I can with both my arms and my legs. Not going to lie, it’s completely terrifying. But it’s also exciting and exhilarating and the view—when I finally manage to pry my eyes open—is absolutely breathtaking.
A few years ago, I watched a documentary called The Art of Flight. It was about snowboarding in the most difficult and breathtaking locations in the world, and Denali was one of the places spotlighted in the movie. They took a helicopter up to some of the areas that are off-limits to normal climbers and skiers and made a big deal about walking in places where no other human being had ever been.
At the time, I hadn’t understood what the big deal was. But now, holding on to Flint as I get a dragon’s-eye view of those very areas, all I can think is, Of course.
Of course they wanted to see this place that so few people have ever seen.
Of course they wanted to capture it on film so others had a chance to feel what they felt.
Of course it’s worth anything—worth everything—to get here. Right here.
And suddenly, something wild inside me breaks free. It claws its way out of the deepest part of my soul, yearning toward the sky, toward the snow, toward freedom.
I gasp, because for that one second, my body wasn’t under my control. It belonged to something—to someone—else, and I don’t have a clue how to find my way back.
Of course, Flint chooses that moment to change direction, going into a deep dive that has the wind in my face and my heart in my throat. We’re racing down even faster than we came up, and as terror whips through me, whatever raised its head inside me settles back down.
I want to follow it, want to figure out if it’s the gargoyle or something else—something worse—but I can’t when every ounce of concentration I have is focused on hanging on to Flint and praying that we don’t crash.
We don’t, but because he’s Flint, he can’t resist doing a series of loop-the-loops in the middle of our dive. I’m not sure what it says about our speed that I don’t even have to worry about falling off, even when we’re upside down, because centrifugal force keeps me plastered to his back the entire time.
In fact, by the time his third set of somersaults comes around, I don’t even have to close my eyes. Instead, I just laugh with Hudson and enjoy the ride.
Eventually, he starts flying slowly by various architectural elements I recall from Mr. Damasen’s list. I pull my phone from my coat pocket and quickly snap several pictures of each feature as we fly by.
When I finish taking the last picture, I put my phone back in my pocket and zip it up. Flint gives me another quick look over his shoulder and, I swear, shoots me a surprisingly wicked grin, considering he’s a dragon. That’s the only clue I have to grip his neck tightly before he’s soaring back up into the sky again, spinning a bit as we go.
And then, when I think we can’t go any higher—he stops flapping his wings entirely.
We freeze in the sky for a split second without his strong wings pushing us forward, and my breath catches in my throat. I have an idea what he’s about to do next, and I can feel the scream building in my chest. But before I can open my mouth and set it free, Flint flips his large body in midair, and suddenly…we’re diving straight for the ground, wings tucked tight against his body as we continue to