Bolas remained suspended in the air, his massive wings spreading wide as a single flap held him aloft for several seconds at a time.
Although Bolas had lived his entire life not being able to fly, each movement of his wings was effortless, as if the act of flight itself required nothing from him.
He stayed there through one flap, then another, and then a third, watching without shifting his position.
By the fourth, his patience began to wear thin.
Even after he had spoken, the human hadn't moved, as if he hadn't heard him, or worse, as if he had heard him and believed he was lying about being able to see him.
Bolas narrowed his gaze as he tried to make sense of it, but no matter how he turned it over in his mind, it led to the same conclusion.
The human was stalling. For what, he didn't know.
Did the human actually believe that if he ignored him long enough that he would simply go away? Nonsense!
