He was dark brown, with a crest that was a bit short. All in all, he was somewhat short, but he was very strong in the chest and wings and thanks to that same shortness he could make dizzying figures in the air without hurting the edges of his wings. We had some wild dances in the air. At that speed I would often make mistakes, but he could always adjust himself to me. When we rested together exhausted on the ground, in each others hands... But enough about that.
Since long before the great earthsquake he's been a scout for the herds going toward the Valley, flying far ahead of them. He offered himself because of his strength and reliability (he had a high self-esteem, but it was not unfounded). One day he simply didn't return.
Now, Grandma Longneck, which is your favourite old longneck story?