Curve of the moon

They took off that night, one skimmer trailing the other. Flew through the darkness, relying on the clouds for cover. They stared at each other warily, caring more about what the other man was doing than where they were flying.

Got off track too many times to count.

There were several moments when he just wanted to knock him off his skimmer.

But he gritted his teeth and leaned forward.

Finding HER was more important.

He wasn't sure why he was back for her, why he wanted to find her so badly. After all, weren't they enemies? He glared at the dark haired man with distaste. Loathing. Hatred. Pity.

Pity?

Now that didn't belong on his list of "Ways to Hate the Man Who Killed Your Friends".

Then again, he looked so pained. And maybe he wanted the same thing.

Answers.

Flew into the morning, not stopping for fuel, both crystals and food wise. Saw a tiny terra, and a small shape clad in blue and gold sitting on the edge. He stayed behind, let the red skimmer go first. Needed to clear his head for a few moments.

He watched the sea of blue underneath him churn with white clouds. Wished that it was water, instead. Wanted to swim, all of a sudden.

"Why do you need to know? Why?"