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simply a magically animated shell, no better
     than a golem.” He nodded solemnly. “Thou art becoming qhen, Khisanth.” Khisanth was moved
     to silence. She could feel an almost physical transformation overtaking her body as she
     began to understand. The dragon shivered in the oppressive heat of the rain-dampened
     forest. “I believe thou art ready to try thy wings.” Surprised, Khisanth looked back over
     her shoulder eagerly. Joad was unleashing the vines and slipping the splint from her
     damaged limb. “It's all right, Joad?” she asked, not waiting for an answer as she gingerly
     flexed her wing. “I've thought for several days that it was healed.” The joint felt stiff,
     but not sore. She stretched it farther, opening the wing to full extension. The
     pearl-white, razor-sharp claw at the tip pierced
    the treetops. Khisanth tucked the wing back to her right side. Her heart pounded wildly
     with anticipation. Raising up on her hind legs she stretched both wings in unison toward
     the sky, furling and unfurling them with a rhythmic snapping. Kadagan's soft, even voice
     said, “Canst thou launch thyself here?” His gaze traveled up to consider the tall canopy
     of trees that grew dense some distance before them and afforded protection for Khisanth's
     lair in the hillside. “I'm ... not sure,” muttered the dragon. Frowning, Khisanth searched
     her mind for memories of flight. All she could unlock was the still image of a tightly
     packed herd of extremely young dragons, barely distinguishable among the clouds of red
     dust they kicked up as they pushed their way toward a distant precipice. She wasn't even
     certain she'd been among the wyrmlings- turned-dragons, or if she'd just heard about
     them.“ ”I think I need a ledge,“ she mumbled at last. ”Is the one above thy lair of
     sufficient size?“ Khisanth looked over her shoulder at the shelf of rocks that formed a
     hood over the opening to her lair. It was not overly high, perhaps twenty-five feet above
     the ground, but it might be adequate. The rocky shelf continued up the face of the steep
     hillside, interrupted only by the occasional low shrub. Below her lair, the ground dropped
     away sharply; the line of trees under which they now stood lay at least one length of the
     dragon's thirty-foot body from the cave. ”We'll see if it's high enough,“ the dragon said
     at last. Anxious to test her wings in flight, Khisanth stepped from the protection of the
     trees and into the sunlight that had chased the rain clouds away. How the nyphids could
     enjoy the sun's blinding light, she would never understand. Squinting, she lumbered past
     her lair and continued upward some distance on the shelf. That should give me enough room
     for a running start, Khisanth reasoned. She raised herself high and extended her wings,
     once, twice, as a test. Drawing in a deep breath to concentrate, she tucked her wings
     tightly to her sides. Leading with her right foot, she took elongated strides, gaining
     great speed as she approached the precipice. The ground shook beneath her; rocks tumbled
     away. The clawed toes of her right foot met the edge first, as she had planned. Then
     Khisanth pushed herself up with all her great strength, drawing her wings out and driving
     them first down, then up. She plummeted like a rock. For five heartbeats, she scrabbled
     and clawed and flapped to no avail. Then she met the moist ground and tumbled head over
     wings. Breathing heavily, Khisanth let her face remain covered by her left wing as it had
     fallen. She could feel Joad at her side, silently examining her right wing. She didn't
     stop him, though she knew she wasn't hurt. ”Thou wast trying too hard.“ Khisanth's head
     snapped up from under her wing. She glared at the nyphid, who was hovering above her left
     shoulder blade, his own little wings fluttering effortlessly. ”How can I try .... 'too
     hard' to learn to do