Daxten leaned low over Azalea's neck as she launched from a dead standstill toward the sky. He gripped tightly to both her and his rope harness, feeling his stomach drop down to his feet as gravity suddenly fought to keep him grounded, even as he defied it, courtesy of the dragon he was riding. He was surprised his internal organs didn't just come erupting out of his body, honestly. The dragon he'd ridden when they'd been rescued had been a mite bit bigger than Azalea, so he hadn't felt the pressure as much. Perhaps it depended upon the dragon? Or perhaps it depended upon the dragon's size. He didn't know and he didn't feel comfortable asking because he didn't want to upset Azalea.
The gusts from her wings buffeted him, but he found that he didn't lean from side to side with each flap of her wings. It was like the simultaneous motion created a pocket of space between her shoulders, allowing him to remain mostly still and only get eddies of the air she displaced with each stroke of her wings. He could feel the muscles of her wing-shoulders working, and it was the most fascinating experience Daxten could say he'd ever had. He focused on her left wing and then her right, watching how her scales flexed with each movement.
As soon as they were leveled off, Daxten sat upright and felt the wind hit him full in the face. He closed his eyes tight and leaned low again, finally able to open his eyes and breathe. He'd never had this problem before, but then, he also had never flown like this before, either. It was quite a bit to get used to, especially so quickly.
When the order came to begin the drills, Daxten paid focused attention to what Azalea called back to him. He breathed out and repeated what she said, reaching out to tap under her left wing, saying, "A tap under the wing joint, and you go that direction."
He continued to repeat her orders and the gestures that went with them, hoping he was performing them right. He didn't want to mess up and give her the wrong order, but he had always been a quick learner, and the more he did something the more ingrained it became in his mind. He hoped that Azalea was a patient sort - so far, she'd seemed to be - because he hadn't had the same training everyone else had had. Even her.
Daxten raised his eyes from Azalea's back to their fellow cadets, watching how synchronous they were with their dragons. That kind of seamlessness had come from months of training, if not years. But he wasn't the only one making mistakes in the drills. Sometimes the other dragons would turn left when their rider signaled to go right, or sometimes the rider would signal left when they meant right, and two pairs would very nearly collide with each other.
At the very least, Daxten thought, he hadn't yet run Azalea into anyone else during their maneuvers.