She snorted and hovered above him, refusing to touch down. "I will keep flying. We walk all the time in your army complex, wings folded up for so long. Take a thermal up to where it was cooler." It was certainly hot down here, and her wings baked with the absorbed sunlight. Snorting, she tilted her face to the sun to consider the question. He asked about her world often.
"Our oldest cities are in the air, on the floating mountains. The lands below were scorched in the Harrowing Wars, we had to cultivate and heal them before the newer civilization could be formed. Old as your pyramids, they rise tall. Less wear wings down there, especially after the Great Plague, and use vehicles and hover packs to travel. But the old cities are now for the military, between the threats of the stars and the homelands. Wings are from the old times, and we earn the honor. Then above are the space ports for the armadas and other ships."