Anara felt Inirath's muscles bunch under her in preparation for flight when a new voice rang out. The thunder dragon huffed angrily, snorting out hot air and static electricity making Anara's hair crackle. She turned in her saddle to face the newcomer and raised an eyebrow—frostbites were rare enough, and even rarer on Ambrell Ridge.
"You received no message because I did not send one for you," Keltor said bluntly, folding her arms and resting them on a neck ridge. She glanced over again, mentally running through her catalog and recognizing the dragon as Neva—which meant her rider was Sayl. "Perhaps I should have," she said eventually—as close to an acquiescence as she would get. She hadn't called for any frostbite riders because their cold abilities might be vital in cooling down the island if worst came to worst, but perhaps one might be useful.
"Ride high," she said shortly. "The air is thinner, but colder. I don't want Neva tiring too soon." Anara turned again, giving one last sharp look to the assembled riders and calling out to some individuals. "Odell, you stick to the surface of the water. I want to be able to see you at all times. Walsh, if Sapphire gets tired carrying you, you can ride with me for a while and let him carry a few bags. Same goes for you, Rorvik. I don't want Lysander tunneling just yet, not until we're on dry land." Inirath snorted again as if to say not likely, but Anara shushed her quickly. "The rest of you—you've all flown V formation before, but likely not with so many different breeds, so be alert. I'll be taking point. Give each other enough wingroom—talk if you like and if you can, but no fancy acrobatics. I won't have dragons injured because someone wanted to get too close."
With a stern look to emphasize her point, and one last considering look at the frostbite dragon, Keltor nodded decisively, and without another word, Inirath crouched down and launched herself into the sky. From that initial launch, with one powerful beat of her wings, she was out over the water and speeding towards the northwest, confident the other dragons would fall in line.
Next stop—Bitty Islet. She just hoped they'd all make it without any...incidents.
Ten hours later, the sun was starting to get lower and lower in the sky, and right on schedule, Inirath gave a trumpet-like cry as land was spotted below. In truth, the rocky outcropping the silver dragon began to descend towards could hardly be called 'land'—compared to Caerel, it was miniscule, but the cliffs were high enough to prevent the entire island being drenched by sea waves, and the center was covered by a stretch of trees. Besides, even a dragon couldn't fly for days on end without breaks, and this was the last island large enough to hold all the dragons until they arrived on Kendrigan.
Inirath was one of the only dragons not showing any signs of fatigue as she descended to the rocky shore on the only side of the island that didn't end in sheer cliffs—but Anara knew better. The thunder dragon was just as inexperienced with flying this long as the rest of them, much as she might be loathe to admit it. However, Inirath refused to let her wings so much as droop as Anara patted her on the neck in thanks.
"You did good, girl," she said quietly, and her dragon snorted in response. Keltor raised her voice again, turning in her seat to check on the other riders. "We're taking the dragons up there," she called, pointing up the steep slope of the beach towards the ragged treeline. "There's a hill with a ledge that should give us enough shelter for the night. Try not to knock down too many trees on the way in, alright? This place is tragic enough as it is." She finished in a mutter to herself before tightening her legs around Inirath's neck once again, coaxing her into one last climb before she could lie down and rest.