Stormboarding
Riding Growler at full speed is called stormboarding, Nimbus informs you, because he invented it and he gets to name it. It feels like sledding down a mountain of air. Sera stands braced behind you, mane streaming like a silver flag; the twin moons set on your left; the world is fast and cold and briefly, secretly, wonderful.
Then the horns sound behind you — the ragged ones. Alarm. Pursuit.
Six specks rise off the palace and grow wings. The dawn patrol, fresh and official and much better rested than one over-loaded beanbag cloud.
“Options!” Nimbus yells, cheerful the way people are when things go properly wrong. “The Thunderhead Sea, down there — big and dark and rumbly, they'd never find us, if it doesn't eat us! Or we run flat-out for the borderlands where the Court won't follow! Or—” a wild grin, “—that enormous flock of sky-geese, we just fly into the middle and act like geese!”