(668 A.C.)

Skeea limped through the underbrush, injured front paw cradled close. Branches snagged on the fine feathers of his wings, and stones dug into the soft pads on his toes. He gave a startled cry as the next step forward landed on soft earth that gave way under his weight. He tumbled down the slope in a flailing of tail, wings, and limbs before he came to a rest in the depression at the bottom of the incline. He chirped to himself softly, forcing himself to stand even as his legs shook. His body ached all over—first from the fall where his injured mother had taken the brunt of the impact, and now from this short tumble.

He stared up at the top of the mound. The trees of this alien forest towered dark and silent above him, their leaves blocking out all but the barest hint of sunlight. His large ears caught all manner of scurrying among those canopies and in the forest’s mossy carpet. Here, it was peaceful. He could almost forget the sight of his mother’s feathers and blood decorating the smooth, stone shore of a brook, her beautiful bronze fur red from the arrow piercing straight through the tender flesh of her stomach. He had not yet learned to fly—he had been riding on her back, snug in her fur, secure as he felt her wings beat on either side of him. She had dipped down to skim low along the forest, paws nearly brushing the treetops.

Look at the beauty of the world, the cant of her head had said. I can’t wait until you can fly above it yourself, the bunch of her shoulders had mused.

Neither of them had been paying attention to the bumbling of humans down below past the whistling of the wind in their ears. Why would they when humans were always making useless noise? His mother had heard the thwump of the bow, but she hadn’t been able to turn out of the way in time. The best she had done was roll Skeea so she was shielding him with her body.

Run. Her eyes had said after they crashed, the trickling water of the brook beside them turning red with her blood. Know that mama loves you. Her curling, reaching paws had said as her labored breaths turned wet and stuttering. Skeea had stared at her, frozen, as his broken paw made itself known. That pain had nothing compared to the constricting, vile snares in his chest as he stared at his mother and told himself she would be okay. "Run!" she screeched, blood coating the inside of her beak.

So he ran.

It wasn't far enough. Even now he could hear the humans pursuing him. They were slow picking their way through the forest, obviously trying to quiet their movements, but they were humans. Asking them to be quiet was like asking the wind to stop blowing.

Skeea snapped his beak a couple times and pressed forward. His side felt wet, but it didn't hurt. He told himself it was water. It couldn't be anything else.

It wasn't exactly a clearing—not one made by nature, at least. There were several ancient stumps scattered around a small area more overtaken with foliage than the shade of the rest of the forest. Skeea wanted to drop into that bath of sunlight and sleep until everything stopped hurting. Instead, he hopped to one of the stumps in the middle. In its base was what looked like an entrance, and his exhausted body demanded he try to find respite.

The stump was hollow. It had obviously been carved out by some other creature, but the nest inside was old and brittle. Abandoned. The hole was a bit small, but Skeea pressed his wings to his back and wiggled inside. He curled up in the back of the stump, injured paw pulled against his chest. In the confined space, his breath sounded like boulders scraping against each other, his heartbeat like waves pounding at a bluff. He tucked his tail against his body, the sharp feathers at the tip glinting in a slit of sunlight, ready to lash out and cut.

Footsteps crunched at the edge of the clearing. Skeea tensed, huddling down and pressing himself further against the back of the stumps. He flexed his claws on his good paws and bristled his fur. These were the humans that had killed his mama. If they came for him too, he'd kill them.

He listened as the footsteps came closer to his hiding place. A pair of brown boots came into view and stopped. He held his breath. After a moment, the top of a female human's head peeked over the lip of the entrance, hair hanging down in a curtain of fine sand. Skeea had never seen a human up close before, and he couldn't read her like he could read the other griffins. But the furrow of her brow seemed to say, That’s not right, and her golden eyes were wide and soft, assuring him, Well, I’m not going to hurt you.

Skeea snapped his beak in warning. The human backed up, fast, her head disappearing above the entrance to the stump and her booted feet taking several steps back. “A griffin?” he heard her murmur. “Griffins are supposed to live around the peaks of mountains, not at their bases. And... this one is tiny. He has to be a baby, but... he’ll be an adult one day.”

Skeea didn’t like the tone the human’s voice had taken. He shifted to try lunging out at her, but the moment he moved, his paw screeched in agony.

“No,” he heard her say, just a bit louder, unaware of Skeea’s schemes. “The frost lions attacked because Minora threatened them. And griffins are supposed to be more intelligent than most magical creatures anyway. I’m not going to...”

She knelt down, still keeping her distance, but peeked back into the stump to meet Skeea’s gaze. “You’re being hunted, aren’t you?” The human sounded sad, and Skeea tensed. He didn’t want pity, especially from a human. “I... know that feeling. I’m going to help you, okay?”

Something dropped in front of the hole, blocking the entrance and most of the light. He strained his ears but could only hear steps retreating a short distance before there was a solid sound that made him think the human had sat on one of the other stumps. There was a strange rubbing whisper, like the beat of a ladybug's wings, and then relative silence.

He leaned forward and gave a cautious sniff. The bag had a comforting musk of old leather and herbs. The herbs didn't smell wholly different from the stubborn plants that bloomed near the mountain roosts, and a sharp pang struck through his chest. He would no longer soar the cliffs on his mother's back, would no longer huddle under her wing during the cold nights. She could no longer sing to him or smile at him with the flick of her ear or tell him she loved him with the twinkle in her eyes.

He narrowed his eyes and whipped his head back. Whether they were helping him or not, he would not let himself be at the mercy of a human! He snapped his beak and flexed his good paw again, claws digging into the soft earth.

"Shhh. Do you want them to hear you?" The human's voice was muffled in his little nest. Skeea flattened his ears and flicked his tail. Maybe he could listen to this human for now—until these others she spoke of were no longer a threat.

It was quiet for a time—nothing outside the normal sounds of the forest, at least—until more footsteps approaching the clearing made him tense again. These were heavier and clumsier than the other human’s. Before they had even gotten very close, a deep voice boomed, "'Ey, you, girl. It ain't safe in these woods. What're you doin' out 'ere all ‘lone?"

The rustle of fabric and the female's voice sounded, high and challenging. "I can take care of myself, thanks. Do you guys need something?"

Skeea could tell one of the men grunted and stepped closer to the girl. Skeea peeked out from a tiny slit in the wall of the stump. The male human, thick in body with brown hair, stood over the shorter human. The smaller human sat on one of the stumps, a book in her lap. Despite the glaring size and strength difference, she was scowling just as fiercely as the big one.

Skeea couldn't help but think of colony challenges in the mountains, the alpha and the contender staring each other down before taking flight in duel. They were picking each other apart for weaknesses, eyes as sharp and dangerous as any claws. If one wasn't intimidated into backing down, they would soon be locking talons.

"You seen a griffin 'round here? It's dangerous to let a monsta' like that roam about, yeah? So me and my buddy 'ere are gonna make sure it can't hurt no one."

How dare that human act as if it hadn't attacked them? Skeea wanted to lunge out at that very moment. When he shifted, his paw loudly reminded him why that was a bad idea.

The girl pursed her lips and tapped a blunt claw on her chin. "Mm, you know, I think I saw a griffin not that long ago. When I was checking my traps near the west end of the brook. Little guy, kind of cute, actually."

The large human glanced back where Skeea could hear his companion waiting. Annoying, the set of his shoulders said, but whether that was towards the female or the supposed fact that they had gone in the wrong direction, Skeea didn't know.

Skeea couldn't see the male's face, but his stance shifted. It didn't exactly say anything as much as it conveyed his aggression. "So, little lady, got anything valuable with ya'? That book ya got there sure looks fancy." He started to reach for it, and suddenly the little human was on her feet, the book—whatever that was—clutched to her chest and a dagger waved in front of her.

"I do got something valuable. It's this dagger. Straight from the pocket of some guy with this real nice coat and lots of rings. From the last person I used it on, I'd say it paralyzes you so bad you can't breathe and you suffocate to death." The female gave a predatory smile. "You really want to try me?"

The bob of the man's throat said something, but Skeea wasn't exactly sure what. Judging from his increasing heartbeat though, he had an idea. "You're bluffing."

She brandished the blade higher. "Am I?"

The male glanced at his companion again before stepping back, his shoulders grumbling defeat. "Fine. I hope ya get eaten by rats while yer sleepin’, ya little pixie bitch."

She held the dagger out until the men had left. Eventually, she put the blade away, a smug grin on her face. "Fall for it every time," she chirped, sitting back down on her stump. She kicked her feet idly as she returned her attention to the book-thing. Skeea had no idea why she was staring at it so intensely, but after a bit, she closed it and stood back up. "Alright, I think we're in the clear."

She disappeared from view, the sound of her footsteps growing closer until she plucked the bag away from the entrance to reveal her boots. "Come on out little guy, I'm not gonna hurt you. You don't have to worry about those hunters either. They should be running from a pod of venom mantis right about now. Saw a nest of them when I was laying snares earlier, and oh boy, if you've never been stung by one you are lucky. Anyway, you’re a griffin. A baby one, right? That’s cool. According to the Wandering People, griffins are one of the creatures made by the old gods. Does that mean you can do old magic? I want to learn old magic. It’s supposed to be much more powerful than new magic. But anyway, I’ve never met a baby monster before. Er, not that you’re a monster, per se, it’s just what people call any type of magical creature.”

The human stopped for breath and to shake her head. “By Amera, my manners are just terrible today. Ms. Maria must have just gotten a cold shiver."

As she rambled, Skeea stubbornly remained right where he was. Once she finally fell silent, the human waited for a moment before she sighed. Her boots retreated back to her stump where she opened her book again—and Skeea knew what that whispering sound was now. "Alright, suit yourself. There's a bit of dried fruit in the side of my bag. I don't know what griffins eat but you can have some of that if you want."

The looseness of her body suggested that she wasn't lying, that she wouldn't hurt him, that he could come out. But he didn't want to be in the company of a human. Not when he was weak and vulnerable. So he stayed in his hiding place—and if he waited until the human was engrossed in her book again to peek his beak out and dig out the promised fruit, she wasn't going to know.

He tore the soft flesh apart with his beak and stared at the human as he ate. She just continued reading her book. After a while, his exhaustion started to weigh heavier than his caution. He rested his head down on his good paw, closed his eyes, and pretended the hard wood at his back was the soft fur and feathers of his mother.

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Skeea started awake to a popping sound. His ears perked up and swiveled on their own accord, the rest of his head following. The day had turned to night while he slept, and the human had started a little fire. She had reclaimed her bag at some point, and Skeea could just see the cover of the book peeking out from the flap, far from the flame. The human hummed and adjusted the stakes and skewered meat cooking over the fire.

Skeea's stomach gave a rueful growl. Fruit was fine, but it was hardly filling enough for a growing griffin. Skeea crept forward, cautiously poking its beak out of its stump, but the human didn't immediately notice him. He flicked his tail impatiently and gave a little chirp.

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Her attention snapped to him. She grinned, the dancing flame casting twisting shadows on her face. It might have been intimidating to a lesser creature, but Skeea saw the expression for what it was. Hello, it said. Everything is alright.

"Hey, you're awake! Are you hungry? I bet you're hungry." She began to reach for one of the skewers but hesitated. "Wait, do you like your meat cooked or raw? I mean, it's already a little cooked, but y'know—do you want it more cooked, I guess is what I'm asking."

Skeea glared at her. She met the look without seeming to understand what he was saying. Mama had been right—humans were slow and unobservant. He gave a sharp squawk, ears flattening. That seemed to get the message across, the human chuckling. She took a couple of the skewers and held them out to him. He let out another squawk and motioned with his head for her to throw them. The human just smirked, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Skeea huffed, the air whistling through his beak. He wouldn't be so debased as to accept scraps straight from a human's hand. That was, until his stomach twisted in hunger and he found himself working his way out from the stump.

He limped closer, and the human helpfully stretched out until her limbs as far as they would go. He plucked the skewers from her hands, beak snapping close to her long, blunt claws, but she didn’t seem deterred at the action. She just watched him, eyes on his paw. He shifted until his back was to her, injury hidden from view as he dug into the meat. It was too lean and gamy—forest rabbits, if he had to guess. What he wouldn’t give to be devouring a mountain goat with his mother right now.

“You’re hurt,” the human said. Skeea flicked his tail in response. “Do you want to show me? I mean, if it’s just a thorn or something, I can pull that out no problem.”

The set of his shoulders should have told the human, No, leave me alone, but instead she got up and tried to step around to get a look at him. He squawked at her, tail whipping and wings bunching up. She understood that at least, taking a couple steps back and holding her hands up in what he thought was supposed to be placating but only made him more nervous. He flexed the claws on his good paws, digging them into the soft earth, and snapped his beak at her. She took another step back, eyes gentle, stance loose. That, at least, made him feel a bit better, and he let his wings relax against his back again.

“I can make potions,” the human said, voice soft. Skeea eyed her warily as she stepped back toward her bag. “I’ll need to find a slime, but that shouldn’t be too hard. I think I saw some slime trails not too far from here.” She dug through her bag until she produced a small jar. “Yeah, I can use this to get the slime. And…” She rifled through the front pocket until she pulled out a little metal box. “I still have most of what I need. Looks like I’ll need more honey, but that shouldn’t be too hard to find.” She giggled, glancing back at him. “Get it? Be?”

Skeea flicked his ear and turned back to finishing his meal.

The human laughed again, snorting like a piglet. “Here, I caught enough for you to have more.” She got up, leaving her containers next to her bag, and fetched him a couple more skewers. She dropped them close enough for him to reach, but far enough away that she wasn’t crowding him. “I’ll go in the morning to find a slime. Those hunters were right about one thing—the woods are pretty dangerous, especially at night.” She pointed to one of the nearby trees. “I’m gonna be up there sleeping tonight, so if you need anything just, uh, yell at me, I guess.”

Skeea narrowed his eyes. As if he’d be reduced to asking a human for help. Hiding him and giving him food had been the human’s decision, her compassion, but his pride prevented him from begging for more of it. To make a point, he scooped up the last skewer and shimmied back into his stump. The human chuckled as she watched him retreat. Skeea was quickly becoming tired of the sound.

“Alright. Goodnight,” the human called. Skeea listened. She didn’t move for a moment before grabbing her bag. Before she placed it in front of the entrance to his hiding spot, she peeked in at him and smiled. “Just in case.”

She moved back. There was a tiny shuffling sound as she put out the fire—probably just dumping some dirt on it—before she headed toward the tree she had pointed out earlier. Skeea listened in the darkness as she climbed the tree until she was a decent distance from the ground, then it was quiet.

He laid his head back down and tried shifting into a more comfortable position, but he had slept too long earlier to do so now. The best he got was a light doze. It was probably only an hour later when soft footsteps alerted him again. He perked his head up, peering through the tiny cracks in the stump even though his ears were much more useful than his eyes in the darkness.

It wasn’t a human—judging from its gait, the creature had four legs, not two. Skeea strained his ears as it got closer, desperate to find specifics as his eyes failed to catch sight of the beast. It was big and slow, lumbering through the clearing and sniffing in long, deep breaths. Skeea flexed his claws as it drew closer and closer to his hiding spot, recognizing the stump as the corner it was. He should have gone into the tree with the human. At least there it might have been easier to defend himself.

The sniffing was right behind him now, moving slowly to the front of his stump where only the human’s bag blocked the entrance. Skeea finally got a glimpse of the creature as the movement of its body blocked what little moonlight breached the holes in the wood. It resembled a wolf, only bigger and hairless. It had no ears or eyes that he could see. Just a large nose pausing beside every crack and sniffing, long and slow. Skeea watched as it reached the bag and began nudging it with its nose, a grunt escaping its slobbering mouth. Skeea tensed and prepared himself to lunge.

There was a thud. Something hit the beast. It yelped in pain, jumping back from the bag and whirling towards—

Towards the tree.

It darted to the base of the tree and jumped at the bark, claws scrabbling at the wood. Skeea waited for the moment he heard the beast find purchase, but it never came. Instead, the human’s laugh bounded through the clearing, and Skeea found himself relieved to hear it again.

“Not so easy, is it?” she taunted. There was another thud, and the beast whined again. Skeea wondered what, exactly, she was throwing at him. Branches, maybe? She must have a strength her scrawny limbs didn’t suggest. “Get out of here. You’re not gonna be able to climb up. Go find food somewhere else.”

The beast continued trying to claw at the tree. Skeea knew that griffins were generally smarter than most monsters, but still—did the beast not understand anything the human was saying? Human speech was incredibly simplistic in many regards. They still relied mostly on verbal communication, after all.

A garbled noise cut through the scrabbling, a voice like a dead winter night. "The food sits and taunts from the tree, but it won't be so smug when I'm jumping."

Skeea's blood curdled. He had never heard a new god's spell before, but he didn't need to—the horrible twisting sensation in his chest was enough for him to feel it in his bones. Magic like that was an abomination, weak and warped.

Then Skeea realized exactly what it was. A jumping spell. There was a pause where the beast backed up, a breath, and then a thud as its body hit the tree’s lowest bough. It still struggled to pull itself up and stand, the branch giving a low groan in protest, but it did manage to stand and begin the process again with the next branch up.

The human cursed, sounding more surprised than anything. Skeea crawled forward, pushing the bag out of the way with his beak and poking his head out. The monster was up three branches, the human only two above it. The monster at least had an excuse. It was hampered by its girth, massive paws as wide as its footholds and muscular body heavy. The human was just pathetic. She was obviously panicking, trying to pick her way up the crooked trunk of the tree but her feet were constantly slipping as she searched for the next handhold. If she was able to get to the branches higher up, the monster would weigh too much to follow, but at the pace she was going, she wasn’t going to get that far.

Skeea didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was one of the rules set into his mind by the old gods—the need to pay back what has been given. Maybe it was something else, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Whatever it was, he found himself wealsing out of the hiding spot and scrambling onto the top of the stump. He screeched at the monster, beating his wings and bristling his fur. His tail flicked back and forth behind him like a whip.

The monster froze and turned, nose twitching as it assessed this new presence. It let out a low growl and dropped back to the ground, human forgotten. Skeea stood tall as the beast slinked closer, hairless tail swishing behind its powerful legs. It snarled at him. Skeea screeched back, harsh and piercing like the peaks of the mountains, incapable of being intimidated. When it began to circle him, he kept his eyes on the monster, ready to lunge at the slightest provocation.

At some point the human had climbed down to the bottom limb of the tree. “Get it away from my bag!” she called as she dropped to the ground and crouched low, waiting for the moment to pounce.

Skeea squawked in acknowledgement and jumped toward the next closest stump. With only three paws he couldn’t move very well, but though he couldn’t use his wings to fly yet, spreading them helped with the jump. The beast snarled and lunged in pursuit, but Skeea dropped behind the stump. The monster soared over him, its momentum carrying it forward until it rammed into another. It huffed and shook its head before turning back to him.

Skeea would not show fear. He snapped his beak, wings beating viciously at the air. Even if he didn’t know how to use his magic yet, he would fight to the bitter end. He would take his opponent down with him. Anything less would be an insult to his pride and life.

But he couldn’t die here. Because his mother had not gotten the chance to kill her attackers. He needed to avenge her. It was a law in his mind, a need as pressing as breathing. What was given must be returned.

The beast’s muscles rippled under its thick hide as it prepared to lunge again. Skeea stood his ground. He would win this fight. For his mother that needed retribution, and for the human that deserved his aid.

Something flashed in the moonlight. Skeea snapped backward as a dark liquid drenched the monster. The beast shrieked as the liquid began smoking, burning into its flesh in ragged patches of blood. While it was exposed, Skeea darted forward and snapped at the monster’s throat, ending its pitiful, anguished cries.

The monster fell, dead, onto the carpet of moss and ferns. The human inched closer, empty bottle still in hand, smoke curling from its lip. She peered at its body for a moment before reaching a foot forward and nudging one of its still twitching paws. She backpedaled, fast, watching with bated breath. When it didn’t get up and attack her, she breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s dead.” She let out another long breath, dropping to the ground, elbows on her knees and bottle glinting in the moonlight. “It’s dead.”

Skeea limped over to the female, assessing her for any injuries. A few scrapes and bruises it seemed. Nothing serious. He chirped at her. She tore her gaze from the hulking mass to him. After just a moment of hesitation, he nodded.

She stared at him with eyes as wide as a newborn owlet's. After a moment, she returned the gesture, albeit more than a bit confused. She didn’t fully understand the display of respect he was showing her, but that was alright.

She stood up slowly, breaths still a bit labored, but whatever nerves she'd had in the aftermath seemed to have waned. She took a deep breath and grimaced before marching toward the body.

"I've never seen a black dog before. They usually roam the plains and deserts. Not too good at climbing—though I guess that's pretty obvious." She squatted down and examined the monster. "But it matches the pictures Andurak showed me and it obviously just casted a new magic spell with those words it spoke..."

She sighed and moved back to her bag. She continued, "Guess that's the difference between new and old magic creatures, huh? You can't talk, right?" Skeea chirped. "Right. So that means you can't cast new god spells. You—I don't know, use magic more innately?" She gave a frustrated huff though the furrow of her brow just whined confused. "I just don't get it. I’ve read about what old magic is, and I understand it at least a little, I think, but I don't understand how to access old magic, and I'm trying to find a teacher to help me but it's literally been years at this point, and it's starting to get a little discouraging." She pulled out her knife and a sturdy wooden box from her pack. "But whatever. At least black dogs have some pretty powerful properties, you know? Sad we had to kill it though."

Skeea looked between the approaching human and the monster's body twice before the realization hit. He squawked at her, alarmed.

She stopped. "What? It's not like he's gonna be using his whiskers anymore. I've read a couple recipes that called for tongue too, but no way am I touching that thing's mouth. Bleh." She scrunched her nose and shook her head. Skeea gave a grumbling chirp and shuffled out of the human's way, staying close enough to watch as she grabbed each of the monster's whiskers one by one and sliced through them with the same knife that could supposedly paralyze people.

She got nine in total, tucking them away into her wooden box to be used later for her brewing. Skeea knew very little about making potions other than it was something humans did, and that's why they were so dangerous. Hunters killed monsters for their bodies and parts. It's why they had shot down his mama. He flexed his claws just thinking about it.

Was this human just like the others? Skeea didn't think so—humans were very inept at lying with their body language, after all. So far, this one had been about as threatening as a mouse. At least, towards him. And she had expressed her regret at the monster’s death even if it had attacked them.

She tucked her items back into her bag, hands still trembling slightly. She glanced at him, giving a shaky smile when she noticed his attention. She waved the empty bottle at him. Smoke still curled from its lip in little wisps of pale gray like a despondent aura. “Pretty powerful potion, huh? I got really lucky about a month back now, found some abyss fronds. Stuff’s really rare, but there was enough for one batch. It can be used for loads of stuff from what I’ve seen, but I decided to use it for its more defensive properties. Made the potion and saved it for a rainy day.” She shrugged. “Guess that was a good idea.”

Skeea chirped in agreement. The human stood and put her hands on her hips, gaze critical. “If I pick you up,” she began slowly, and Skeea tensed, “promise not to kill me?”

Skeea glared at her, but his paw hurt and his position on the ground left him much too vulnerable. He flattened his ears but chirped in assent, widening his stance. The human grinned. She scooped him up and set him on her hip, one hand on his belly with her arm curling around his side to stabilize him. She shifted his weight a bit until they both found a comfortable position and headed back towards her tree.

“Wow, you’re soft. For some reason I was thinking more coarse, like dog fur. But yours is silky as a cat’s.” Skeea held his head up. He did not preen—there was no reason to feel pride at the praise of a human of all things—but the acknowledgement was still nice. “You’re kind of heavier than I was expecting though.” She readjusted her grip, bumping Skeea up much to his indignation. He squawked at her, tail lashing. She chuckled, a sound Skeea could feel rumbling through her side. “Sorry. I’m just trying not to drop you.” She dropped her bag at the base of the tree and began carefully picking her way up. Skeea pressed his injured paw to his chest so it wouldn’t brush against the bark of the tree. It still hurt something fierce.

When they were on the second limb up, the human braced Skeea’s back paws, giving him something to jump off of and onto the branch. His landing was much less graceful than it could have been, but with only three paws, it was about the best that could be expected. He laid down near the end of the branch, leaving enough room for the human to wiggle her way up beside him. She sat heavily on the limb, back against the tree trunk.

She smiled at him. “Okay, goodnight for real this time. I don’t think anything is gonna want to mess with us when they see we took down a black dog.”

Skeea chirped and rested his head down. There was a soft rustling of fabric as the human sought a more comfortable position, then silence. Despite the human sitting right behind him, Skeea closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful slumber.