Arthur swelled with pride as he watched the 4th Battalion on parade, their crisp black uniforms even more impressive against the bright red feathers of their currently-unarmored Warbirds. Just two more years before he could join their ranks. Two more years before he could ride to the defense of Malay atop one of the fearsome avians.
He wove through the crowd for a better look, stumbling as he pushed his way through the front. The motion caught the eye of a particularly large Warbird, its long neck darting towards him at blinding speed. The bird's rider deftly brought it back into formation, but not before Arthur felt its razor teeth snag on the skin of his thumb.
He watched the bird march past in awe, his finger throbbing where it had pulled strips of skin clear from his flesh in neat, surgical lines. Two more years. Arthur could hardly wait.
