Their wings beat in the air as if it were water.

I wondered if the wings beat in time to his heart.

Two large black wings, beating in back of the old man, had caught his eye.

His wings beat briefly, and he rose into the air.

The great wings beat, once and then again, like the heavy breathing of a god.

The wings of the white horse beat like a heart, steady and true.

Suddenly he rose from above the weeds, his short wings beating the air.

She could almost see him flying, his wings beating like an engine.

The great wings beat on, marking out slices of time and space.

Suddenly, with a great splash, their wings beat the water, and they took flight.