Eventually, Sunny returned to the altitude where the dark undersides of the floating islands could be seen. He tiredly approached one, sensed something moving in the deep shadows, and glided past without coming too close.
The next one didn't seem to harbor any horrors. He flew toward the rough stone surface and sunk his claws and talons into it, clinging to the bottom of the island like a bat. Strangely, Sunny did not need to exert any conscious effort to remain in that position, and simply lay upside down on the cold stones for a while, struggling against exhaustion.
He was in much worse shape than it had seemed before. Two months of ruthless battles in the Red Colosseum had taken a toll on his body, and the terrible wound in his chest was still there, sapping him of strength and vitality.
