Vin's eyes fluttered open, and the warm rays of the afternoon sun trickled into his spinning vision.
The mercenary blinked, momentarily stunned.
Spinning vision? That wasn't quite right. He could see, albeit groggily.
And, at that moment, all Vin could see was the ground below him, which was devoid of grasses, cobblestones, and all other subtle notifiers of a lived-in city. It was just a red, dried-up patch of land. And, judging from the way his body moved and galloped at intervals in the air, it seemed the mercenary was in constant motion.
But that was the problem. His feet weren't on the ground. It should've been impossible.
Vin, groaning softly, moved his neck to survey his surroundings. And less than a second later, he let out a relieved sigh. He'd understood that he was on Maxwell's shoulder, and the young mage was walking, carrying Vin effortlessly, like the full-grown adult was a weightless bag or something.
Vin's subtle scowl melted. That was good.
