"I give up!" Rolf dizzily called.
"It's fine, don't worry," said Luna, gaily turning in mid-air, "we don't need to keep score."
"No. White flag, you win, I quit, this is...I'm going to be sick."
"Oh. Are you? I suppose we should land, then."
She made her way to the ground, Rolf a few seconds behind, wobbling but intact.
"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"
"Speak for yourself," Rolf muttered, before promptly regurgitating that morning's breakfast.
Luna sighed. "All right. I'll tell Hagebak winged-horse races are really worse with thestrals."