Amber could remember her father's board, with elegant patterns and state-of-the-art technology.

It had been confiscated by the government after he died.

But she had also remembered, very clearly, where he kept his spare.

The first time, she rode alone.

She fell.

She had always considered herself lucky that she only fell about five metres.

The second time, she met - and almost rode into - Ermelinda.

Ermelinda was older than her, and had been better at riding windboards when they met. Five years had changed things. Amber was more confident on the board, but Ermelinda was still the one who knew where to go, what to look for.

She knew where the mines were - the mines only accessible by air. The gold mines. The diamond mines. They went there sometimes. The riches were valueless to them - their aim was to stay fed.

But there were people out there who would pay a fortune for diamonds, and Ermelinda knew exactly how much to charge.

Amber knew about plants. About animals. About what they needed to stay alive. She knew about boards.

If the government could see the two out at night, they would have realised that Amber was a better rider that any of theirs. That the two could be arrested on a daily basis.