“You go first,” said Mal as he teetered on the precipice. Below, the Cloudscape broiled and sparked, shot through with flickers of brilliance.
For an Outworlder, the view would have been dizzying, at best. Maddening was far more likely. But the citizens of the floating city were used to living above the clouds.
However used to it they may have been, none fancied the thought of falling into the Cloudscape and disappearing forever with little more than a fading scream; which was why most of them stayed far above the clouds, on the high terraces, where they were protected by railings and barriers and large nets stretched out to catch them if they fell.
The wind whistled and cracked around the Low-Dwellers. Imbibed with thoughts of self-preservation, little Mal licked his lips and repeated:
“You go first.”