Targaryon flew about the skies, flying was one his favorite activities. The rush, the feeling, the thrill of it all. Dropping into a dive, folding back his wings, the pidge allowed himself to free-fall. The feeling of his stomach being in his throat was glorious, however to avoid death, Tar unfolded his wings, leveling out his flight pattern, and landed gracefully to the ground. It was dusk and sun was finishing its daily path. Night was coming, which happened to be Targaryon's favorite time of day. Looking about in the open field, Tar couldn't spot anyone. The pidge felt inclined to relax then, sitting down in the field, and watching the sun fall below the horizon.