(668 A.C.)

He woke to a short shout followed by a thump and a low, whining “Owww.” He cracked an eye open and tilted his head to peer down where the human had fallen onto her back, hair fanned out around her head. She sat up slowly, face twisted in a wince and rubbing the back of her head. Skeea chirped at her.

She waved up at him, but the movement just made her wince again. “Mornin’. Sorry I woke you, I was just going to find some slime. Maybe some breakfast, too.” She climbed to her feet, brushing forest debris from her trousers. She rubbed at her backside and grumbled, “Thought I was done with my days of falling out of trees.”

Skeea flicked his ear and laid his head back down. The human made a nuisance of herself as she collected whatever supplies she needed for her little expedition before finally striding off with a farewell too chipper for so early in the morning. The last constellation of the night was even still visible, eight stars in two wavering lines.

He dozed for a while until her bumbling back woke him again. He felt more rested than before, at least, though he could only watch from his perch as the human prepared the ingredients for her potion. He chirped at her, tail flicking in irritation. He felt exposed in the light cover of the tree’s leaves, and without a way down or up, the branch was hardly any better than the stump.

She waved up at him, hopelessly oblivious. “The potion shouldn’t take too long!” she called, motioning to the various herbs and utensils laid out next to her. "I found some berries, too!" She pulled a large drawstring bag from her waist and dropped it to the ground. "You can have them when I get you down." She went back to starting a fire, flint in hand. Under the sharp strikes, he could hear her humming faintly.

He flattened his ears and squawked again and again. She waited until she had successfully built her fire up to acknowledge him. “Hey, those hunters might still be around. You don’t want them to hear, right? Just be patient, this won’t take long.”

Skeea huffed, breath whistling. He eyed the distance to the ground. He was a proud griffin—he wouldn’t depend on a human for his every need. He focused and tried to stir his magic. It was a matter of time and experience, his mother had told him. It was normal for griffins to go years without summoning even the slightest breeze. Flight would take longer still.

It felt like he had too much experience now. He could do this. He rose to his feet, flexing his claws for a better grip on the wood. He needed to bend the air to his will, let it guide his wings. His mother had explained lift to him countless times. He knew what he needed to do—now he just needed his magic to cooperate with him to achieve it.

He had asked his mother what magic was, once. The tips of her wings had curled in laughter. You will know. She had told him, nuzzling him with her beak. You will know in time, little one.

He spread his wings. Magic was part of him. Or was it him in his entirety? He was a magical creature after all, and an old god one at that. Without his magic, would he be able to exist at all? Did he have to use magic or was it more unconscious, like breathing? Surely, if he tried to fly, he would get his answer.

He squared his shoulders. The human wasn’t paying him any mind. Well, he would show her. He didn’t need her. He crouched down, braced himself, and jumped.

He thought he felt... something. He wasn’t quite sure what—a warmth, a shifting in the very core of his being, an impression of home and belonging. His wings stretched on either side of him in that moment, ready to fly.

The feeling disappeared. He squawked as he tumbled from the tree, the soft forest ground doing little to cushion his fall. At least he didn’t fall on one of his wings. His side ached loudly, but, shifting slightly, it didn’t feel like he had broken anything. Well, anything else. His paw had come out okay, for the most part, complaining at the jostling but otherwise no worse off than before.

He knew he needed to look, but he didn’t want to. He sat up slowly, shaking the dirt and mulch from his fur. He peeked back at the human who was very politely trying and failing to hold back laughter. Skeea got to his feet, shaking again to rid his pelt of any more debris, and held his head high.

The human cleared her throat, biting her lip. Her smile still pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I guess neither of us have figured out how to get out of trees without hurting ourselves.” She cocked her head. "I thought I saw some magic there—more than just you by yourself anyway. It was just for a split second, but..." She trailed off, staring down at the boiling potion above the fire. She stirred it as she thought. Skeea tended to the leaves still caught in his feathers, pulling at the stubborn pieces with his beak.

"So that's why you didn't just fly away," she mused. "You can't fly without magic?" Skeea paused in his cleaning to chirp in confirmation. Apparently, the human could tell the difference between his types of chirps because she nodded. "Okay, so let me get this straight. That black dog," she motioned to the cold body a dozen paces away from them, "is a new god creature. It can speak and that means it can cast spells. But it can function without its magic just fine. But you," she snapped the fingers of her free hand and pointed at him, "are an old god creature. You can't speak so you can't use new magic spells, but you need to use your magic to fly. But you can't fly. Because you don't know how to access your old magic."

Skeea half-listened to the human's ramblings, moving over to munch on the berries she had collected. A dark blue, crunchy and sweet. Much better than the rabbit but not as filling. When he finally looked back to her, her entire body was coiled in intense thought. She continued to tend to the potion without fail, but her mind was obviously flying fast away from this place. "You are a magical creature. An old god creature that needs to use old magic to function fully. I always thought it was something you just were able to do, not something you had to learn." She pulled out a pair of leather gloves from a pouch at her side and slipped them on to grab the hot metal handles of the pot and remove it from the fire. She set the potion aside and put out the fire again, kicking dirt on it with the toe of her boot.

She stared at the potion, eyes intense as lightning, body as loud as thunder. She was coming to some realization, but Skeea wasn't really following her thoughts.

"Magic isn't something to be used. Well—it is, but it's also a part of you." Her eyes widened. "It exists within you and also separate." She sucked in a huge breath and whirled around. "Because humans are magical creatures." Her face split into a smile. "Humans are magical creatures! It seems so obvious but—we are beings of magic. Existing with and in it. Using it as both a tool outside and a muscle within. We need it for our existence but without it we can live—just not to the fullest." She clapped her hands together. "I understand it! I—I think—" She squealed, bouncing on her toes. "I can do it. I'm sure of it. Magic is incomprehensible by nature, but we're just trying to get enough of a grasp on it to understand how it affects us. I can do it." She dropped to a knee in front of him, face suddenly deadly serious. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Griffin." She grinned. "I spent all that time looking for a teacher to tell me what magic is—and I was looking in all the wrong places."

Skeea's blinked in the face of the human's epiphany. He didn't know exactly what to do with all this information or even how to react to the human's thanks, and he certainly hadn’t followed what she said.. He gave a little chirp, claws flexing.

She jumped back to her feet. "First things first. The potion should be cool enough to drink right now. Go ahead, you can just have it straight from the pot. If it affects you like it affects a human, your paw will heal right up but it'll itch like crazy for like ten minutes after.”

Skeea hobbled over and sipped at the potion. It had no odor but tasted foul, like how mushed algae felt and musty air smelled. He spit out the disgusting liquid, squawking in protest. The human, having sat down on one of the stumps, grinned at him.

Eyes full of laughter, she sung, "Come on, drink your potion. It's good for you."

Skeea snapped his beak and glared at the dark contents of the pot. No manner of glowering would magically make the potion taste better, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He forced his head back down slowly and took another sip. He managed to swallow this one, the cloying liquid sticking to the inside of his beak and throat and made the horrible taste suffocating. He flattened his ears, beak cracked open to lessen the choking feeling.

"Just five of those sips should do. It is only your paw that's broken." The human tried to be encouraging, but it was just an insult to his pride. No simple liquid would best him! He set his shoulders and took the next four sips in quick succession. He almost spit them back up, but sheer determination kept them down. He swallowed again and breathed out slowly to combat the sudden nausea. It was done.

He waited. He didn't really know how potions worked. Would his paw start glowing? Would he feel warm and sleepy? But no, after about thirty seconds, it seemed the human had gotten it right. There was a distinct shift and small pop in his paw, though neither hurt and then it stopped hurting altogether. Skeea hesitantly put some weight down on the paw, and when it didn’t protest at him, he fluffed his feathers in joy.

It was about then that his paw began to tingle then itch in earnest. He found himself digging his claws into the ground and breathing slowly. There was no reason to scratch. The itch wasn't real. He just had to ignore it for a few minutes, and then it would be fine. Everything was fine.

Everything was not fine. It itched so terribly. He shifted his weight from paw to paw in pure agony with the need to scratch. It wouldn't do any good—he knew that—but he wanted to so badly. He hated to admit he turned to the human, begging her to do something to ease his torture. She wasn't even looking at him, staring instead at a leaf in her palm, brows furrowed in concentration. It wasn't exactly out of character for the strange being, but it was interesting enough to distract him. He padded over and sat down, watching the leaf with the human. His focused waned after just a few moments, the itch returning, and he chirped at her. Her talking was incessant and often pointless, but it would give him something to focus on.

His communication was successful. She glanced at him and smiled before going back to the leaf. "From what I’ve read in the past, old magic works off the laws of the world. You are literally bending the world to your will. The best example I read was creating a fire. With old magic you rub two things together to heat them up, or pour a bunch of magic into it to make it really hot, and create fire. New magic you just create a fire. It might not even need anything to burn." She plucked the leaf up and twirled it between her fingers. "So, I'm trying to move this leaf. I learned a lot about physics not too long ago—about the study of motion, I mean. The guy that taught me wasn’t all too fond of magic, so I didn’t really want to bring up that I’d probably be using what I learned when I finally figured out how to access my magic, but.” She shrugged.

“It's all about the transfer of energy, I think,” she murmured after another moment. “Magic is so many things, and I’m pretty sure that includes energy. So I just have to access it and use it to push the leaf."

Skeea chirped to show his understanding. The human pursed her lips. "You might want to try exercises like this too. I don't know how a griffin learns to use its magic." She frowned suddenly, and Skeea dreaded what her body told him was going to be her next words before she said them. "Amera, I didn't even think about it before. Where are your parents? Are you lost or...?"

Skeea turned away sharply. The itch had lessened once more to a tingle, and he experimentally flexed his paw. There was no pain—which meant he had a mission to complete. He whirled around and marched away from the human, passing the carcass of the black dog, thinking of the female harvesting its whiskers and convincing himself nothing of the sort happened to his mother. Maybe the hunters hadn't even found her. Maybe... if they hadn't... she might even still be alive. Then the female could give her some potion and make her better and they could return to the mountains and never come near any humans again.

The human cursed, hurriedly stowing her book and pot somewhere out of sight. He heard her dash closer and trail after him, and he imagined if he looked behind him her confusion would be clear. She asked where he was going, what he was doing. But he couldn't explain it to her. It was enough that she followed. She would know soon.

Skeea's sharp eyes had little problem finding his panicked trail from yesterday. Steeling himself, he followed the path back through the dark woods.

The human must have collected her pack before scrambling after him. He could hear her goods bouncing against her back and jostling against one another. She bounded up to him after a little while so they were walking side by side. She kept an eye on their surroundings while Skeea kept an ear open. Black dogs were far from the only monster bound to roam the foliage. He would never admit it, but her vigilant presence made him feel safer.

They came to the slope he had tumbled down not twelve stellations before. The earth was soft and slippery, but he didn't weigh much and with all four paws at his disposal, it was no ordeal at all to scale it. The human wasn't so lucky. She was about a quarter of the way up when the dirt beneath her feet crumbled and sent her rolling back down.

She groaned as she picked herself up, dirt and stones clinging to her clothes and skin. She huffed, attempting to brush the debris off and just succeeding in smearing the soil into the fabric. She scowled and gave up on salvaging her clothes, instead picking up what objects had been knocked loose from her pack before trying to climb up again. She was more careful this time, testing patches of dirt before putting her full weight on it, nearly crawling as she used her hands to steady herself. She got about halfway up this time before her foot caught on a stone, and she lost her balance. She ended back up in a heap at the bottom of the slope, facedown in the dirt.

Skeea could still hear her heartbeat. He squawked at her, tail lashing with impatience. She rolled over, staring up at him with her golden eyes.

"Do I just keep going straight from here?" she called. Skeea chirped. "Alright. You go on ahead. I'll find a better way around and meet up with you later."

Skeea flattened his ears but chirped his agreement. Though he loathed to think it, he felt exposed without the human at his side. Defenseless. The trees seemed to loom over him, the peaceful forest ambiance suddenly much too quiet and foreboding. He kept close to the ground, wings pressed to his back both to make himself smaller but also as a way to reassure himself. The weight was warm and comforting. He was lucky he had only broken his paw in the fall—he couldn't imagine what it would be like to break a wing.

He didn't need the human. He could take care of himself. He told himself that at every scurry in the underbrush, every far off snap of a twig. He was perfectly capable without the human's assistance. As long as he got back to his mother, he would be fine. She would always take care of him.

He heard the bubbling of the brook long before he saw it. Still, he quickened his pace, the fur of his belly brushing against the damp soil. He just had a little more to go. Just a little farther and this nightmare would be over.

Griffins didn't have acute senses of smell—nothing compared to their hearing or vision, at least. But even Skeea caught the metallic scent of blood before he saw her. No, not her—it couldn't be his mother. That skinned body next to the red brook had to be a deer. He crept from the undergrowth, staring at the bloody carcass in front of him. Everything else faded into the background. The brook and its dark water, the fresh stench of blood, the noises of the forest all around him.

It had paws instead of hooves. Very well then, it was an unlucky wolf, its pelt collected by some hunter. Only the fur between its toes was intact, tiny patches of bronze gleaming among the crimson. Skeea drew in on himself and crept around the body.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

They had taken everything. Her beak was gone, leaving only a gaping hole, not even the tongue left. Her eyes had been stolen, now just empty, accusing sockets. Her thin tail had been snipped off, the barest hint of a black stub hanging limply. There was a long, wide gash along her stomach, and though the last thing he wanted to do was look, he found himself peering into a dark, gaping hole. And her barren back—

Skeea searched about the clearing, a tight snake coiling in his stomach and sending burning poison up his throat. He found them on the other side of the brook, two pieces of mangled bones and flesh already swarming with flies. Had there been flies around her body too? He didn't know—hadn't been looking, hadn't been able to process. He sat heavily on his haunches and stared down at her wings. They had been stained a dark red, but he could see the ends of the bones that connected them to her body poking out of the plucked flesh. Every trace of her beautiful ivory feathers was gone.

They had taken everything.

He should have been here. Should have protected her, done something—

A sharp keening pierced the silence, and it took a long moment for Skeea to realize he was making that noise. That horrible, pathetic wail. His grief wouldn't bring her back. His regret wouldn't change the reality. She was dead. Her body was desecrated. He hadn't been here. It was his fault.

He dug his claws into earth black with her blood. It wasn't his fault. It was the humans’. They had done this. Had done this to more than just his mother—it was why every monster was warned to stay away from them. They destroyed everything, ravaged the world around them, scorned the creatures that also called it home.

He would kill them. Make the ground black with their blood so they couldn't hurt anyone else. So that the blood of his mother, crying out to him, would be avenged.

"Oh..." Skeea tensed and whirled around, wings flaring. It was the female, still covered in dirt and leaves, stumbling out of the foliage. Her wide eyes swept around the clearing, a hand raised to her open mouth, before her gaze landed on Skeea. He expected pity he could scorn or disgust he could despise, but instead they were filled with rage.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice soft compared to her dark expression. "If I had known what they'd do, I would have stabbed those hunters." She took a deep, shuddering breath, hands balling into fists. "I'm so sorry."

Skeea didn't care for her apologies. They sounded too much like his own regret. He screeched at her and beat his wings, tail whipping from side to side. He didn't want to look at a human right now. He didn't want to be reminded of this one's kindness—because then he couldn't hate them all, couldn't hold on tight to his anger. He screeched at her again, rearing up on his back legs and flexing his claws. She just watched him with sad eyes.

"I don't remember my parents," she whispered. Skeea dropped back to the ground and narrowed his eyes. "The first thing I can remember with any clarity is stumbling through the gates of some big, dark city where the people were quicker to spit on you and kick you out of their way than offer a hand to help you up." She sighed and looked away. "I don't know what it's like to have a parent, and I don't know what it's like to lose one. But I know what it's like to live without one—and I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened to your parent, and I'm sorry you'll have to go on without them. It's hard to feel like you have no one else to rely on. But—"

"Well, would ya like at tha' Theo, tha' sure looks like a griffin to me. And a little pixie bitch, too! Well, aren't we just lucky as a gambler with weighted dice." Skeea froze at that scathing voice. The female stiffened. Her hand shot towards the bag slung to rest against her hip, but an arrow pierced through the pack, tearing her to the ground with a strangled cry.

"I'm losin' my touch, Gat. Was aimin' for 'er 'and." One of the hunters stepped out from the woods to the edge of the clearing, bow in hand with another arrow already notched. The female glared at them, shrugging off her bags and slipping a hand inside to pull out her dagger. The hunter—Theo?—instantly had an arrow trained at her chest. "I wouldn't do tha' if I were you, little lady."

The female sneered at them, grip on the dagger tightening. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough?"

The other male, Gat, chuckled, the sound grating and distorted compared to the happy laughter of the girl. "Now ya see, little missy, we got a quota to meet. And sure, one griffin is enough to meet it," the man smiled, sharp and greedy, "but I'm not gonna let a bonus slip through my fingers when it drops right in my lap. And just think of it! If we caught a little fella like this, we could 'ave a lifetime supply of griffin feathers. We'd live like kings!"

The female was trembling, but her stance screamed in anger, not fear. "You're despicable," she spat, eyes flashing. "You can’t be out here hunting griffins. That’s illegal. I'll report you, and you'll be arrested."

Theo smirked. "Ya seem to be confused, pixie missy. You're not leavin' 'ere in anything less than a crow’s belly." His fingers flexed on the bow. "Besides, ain't no one care anymore if we out 'ere takin' down griffins. Don't ya know? Magic makes the world go round," he sang, teeth bared. The female narrowed her eyes, the scrunch of her nose suggesting faint recognition. Skeea had no idea what the hunter was talking about, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that these were the humans that killed his mama. These were the humans that peeled and cut her to pieces and left the scraps to the flies.

He screeched, the humans flinching back at the sound. He shot forward just as Theo turned, bow taunt. He lunged, claws extended, wings flared. The archer sucked in a sharp breath and released the bowstring. The arrow shot forward, aimed straight for Skeea's chest.

The female cried, "No!"

The arrow’s trajectory snapped toward the ground, its shaft buried deep in the soft soil. One moment it had been flying right for Skeea's heart, the next it had turned sharply in the air, pulled to the earth like it was drawn there. Skeea landed on top of the archer, claws sinking into his soft flesh. The man screamed, dropping his bow and scrabbling at Skeea's hide, desperate to get him off. Skeea screeched again, tail lashing against the man's chest, sharp tail feathers gouging deep lacerations in the flesh. He heard the other man shout and jerk forward to help his companion, but the female appeared in front of him, dagger glinting in her hand as it cut through the air. The other man grunted, stumbling back. Skeea didn't divert his attention long enough to see if the human's attack had hit.

Skeea finished the archer off quickly, burying his beak in the man's eye and jumping off as the body collapsed to the ground. He whirled around as the female cried out, stumbling back and cradling her arm. The hunter gave her no reprieve, leaning all his weight into a punch to the side of her face. Her head snapped to the side as she spun to the ground.

Something dark seized Skeea. He jumped over the female as she struggled to push herself up, wings beating at the air. In that moment, he felt it again—that warmth, that feeling of completion. But this time it stuck.

The magic inside him sang. He poured it into the air, running it beneath his wings to keep him up and pressing it against the male. The human grunted as he stumbled back under the force, and while his balance was off, Skeea rammed into him, claws raking against his ribs and throwing him to the ground. He scratched the men's flesh over and over, drops of blood flying with every lift of his paws. Every angry stroke was a mark of bloody retribution.

When Skeea finally stopped, lungs heaving, fur crimson from the chest down, the male was nothing but torn flesh and scratched bone. Staring at it, Skeea's throat tightened. His stomach flipped, and he scrambled off the man's body, ragged breaths tearing at his insides. He had killed in revenge—a duly served death—yet he still felt sick. There was so much blood, the dirt surrounding the man's body was black. Skeea felt like he was drowning in it.

He was distantly aware the female had picked herself up. Her steps were heavy, breaths coming in short, measured puffs. She maneuvered over to her bags, grumbling at the arrow through the small one, and slung both over her shoulders.

Skeea expected her to leave. Why would she stay? She had helped him, healed him, then almost died because of him. Were it the other way around, Skeea would be using his newly accessed magic to fly far, far away. He still should, but it didn't feel like he could do anything in that moment. Another hunter could come along seeking his parts, and he didn't think he would be able to react to it.

The human trudged back over to him. "Hey," she called, voice soft. Skeea tore his gaze to her, eyes wide. Her face was tight in pain, one arm held at an odd angle, the other holding onto her pack. "You good to walk or am I carrying you?"

Skeea didn't respond. He didn't know what his body language was saying—maybe it wasn't saying anything at all. Was that even possible? He didn't know. It wouldn't matter anyway. Humans couldn't speak it.

The female sighed. "Alright then." She adjusted her pack so it wouldn't slip off her shoulder and knelt down. "Please don't scratch me," she breathed right before she hoisted him up, hand pressed against his stomach, arm encircling him reassuringly. She inhaled sharply as she stood, a low groan snagging in her throat. She stood there for a moment, probably adjusting to his weight and swallowing back her pain, before she stumbled forward, leaving the clearing behind.

Skeea stared at the forest floor passing below him slowly. Occasionally, a drop of blood from his fur or tail would drip onto the ferns and soil below him, leaving a trail of red. He didn't know where the human was going. It didn't matter. He should fight against her hold, but he didn't. He just let his paws hang limp, almost brushing the leaves of the ferns, tail trailing listlessly behind him.

Why did it bother him so much? It shouldn't—this was what was bred into him, seared into his mind. Repaying what has been given. Those men had deserved to die. Perhaps it had to do with the knowledge of what they had done to his mother, the sight of her body even now forefront in his mind with such clarity. He doubted it would ever fade.

Maybe it was because of the contradiction. The need for revenge, the desire to kill all humans—and the need to protect one of them that had shown him kindness. The desire to help all of them that were good. Two repayments that clashed with each other in his mind.

Maybe he just didn't like killing.

The human stopped. He blinked at the ground, still far from himself, unable to care why or where she had stopped. Until he was thrown forward, careening through the air then crashing into water and sinking like a stone. It took him a moment to orient himself and swim back up to the surface. By the time he had, the human had walked down from the ledge she had dropped him from, down toward the shore of the lake. She still held her arm awkwardly, cheek sunken as she bit the inside of her mouth. She motioned him over with a jerk of her head as she waded deeper, water rising up to her knee before she stopped and gingerly sat, moving her injured arm against her chest with a distressed noise, eyes squeezed shut.

Skeea swam to her. The water was shallow enough where she sat that he could sit in front of her and his head still cleared the lake's surface. After several deep breaths, the female opened her eyes again and gave him a tight smile. She motioned him closer. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

He gave a soft chirp, positioning himself closer to her good arm. She ran her fingers through his fur, teasing the drying blood from the bronze. Skeea let her touch soothe him as she began to speak. “You know, I was pretty afraid of magical creatures for a long time,” she said softly. “I ran into some frost lions a couple years back and they almost killed me. They did kill some of the people I was with. I don’t really blame them for it though—they were only protecting themselves. For the most part anyway. But I still avoided magical creatures during my travels, especially old god creatures. You guys are supposedly more violent than the rest, and I just... I was scared. And I don't’ know how much of this you really understand, but I’m glad I didn’t let that fear prevent me from helping you.”

Tension he wasn't even fully aware of bled from his body as she talked and bathed him, He cooed at her when she fell silent, feeling oddly touched, examined their surroundings in the ensuing silence.

On either side of them and the shore of smooth rocks, the earth rose higher, walling them in on all sides. The trees threw shade as far as they could along the fringes of the smooth water, but the middle glistened in the sunlight, warm and serene. The crystalline water actually rose up from a gaping cave set at the base of the far ledge, and as Skeea watched, he could see the occasional fish dart in and out of the darkness, iridescent against the black.

The human splashed water into his face, interrupting his nature watching. He scrambled back, squawking and spitting out water. She gave him an innocent look. "Sorry, had to get your face, too."

Skeea narrowed his eyes and flapped his wings. The human shrieked, drawing back and squeezing her eyes shut, as a wave of water drenched her from head to toe. Skeea gave a short series of chirps in an approximation of a laugh, kneading at the smooth stones beneath his paws. The human huffed, wiping her bangs out of her eyes and glaring at him playfully.

"No fair," she claimed, pointing at his dripping wings. "You can cheat." She stopped and the smile slowly returned to her face. "But maybe..." She raised a hand and gently pushed a ripple in the lake. Skeea watched, eyes widening, as the ripple quickly built up, a giant mound like the waves of the ocean, and crashed over him, dragging him back out into the depths of the lake. He kicked his way back to the girl before popping his head out of the water and shooting a stream of water at her.

She grinned at him, hand up to block the assault. "I figured it out," she said softly, eyes shining. "At least, kind of. I think I was trying something out of my league with the leaf. It wasn't moving at all, but if I work at redirecting energy or building momentum that is already in motion..." She flicked water at him. Skeea shook his head, chirping at her. "Well, I think I'll be able to dunk you in a bunch more waves." She gazed out over the lake, expression losing its mirth, and it felt like the sun setting. Skeea padded over next to her and sat, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I could sense it," she said, good hand fisting in the cloth of her trousers still dark with dirt and blood. "When you used your magic. It's different than the magic I just sense coming from you normally. You can fly." She turned to him, smiling sadly, and Skeea hated it. This human was too bright and energetic to be smiling in such a desolate mimicry of the easy expression she usually wore. "Guess that means you'll be on your way, huh? I figured you'd feel better without all that blood on you, so you—" She swallowed hard, golden gaze slipping to the rippling water between them. "So you have no reason to stick around."

Skeea tucked his wings close and stared at his paws. He didn't have a reason to stay. He had avenged his mother's killers. He had helped the human that helped him. It was done. His debts were paid. He could leave this place behind and never think about it or this female again.

But he didn't want to. He liked this human. Besides, she was so obviously clumsy If he didn't stick around she'd probably trip and fall into a slime and die. But if Skeea were around he could stop something like that. Besides, they could probably help each other with their magic—he would be great at helping whenever the human felt she couldn't access her magic or couldn't get enough or even needed someone to practice her magic against.

She was alone, like he was now. He could fly off and return to his flock where he'd be taken in by one of the other families and raised in the protection of the mountains—or he could stay with this one. This budding flock. He could help her, and she could help him, and they could both have someone to rely on.

He sat up straight, rolling his shoulders, and chirped at her. The human glanced at him, waiting for him to leave, the draw of her brow whispering hope she was fighting against. He crept forward, nudging the underside of her arm with his beak until she lifted it, creating a space where he could lay beside her. She stiffened. Skeea could hear her heart hammering.

"Does this mean you're staying?" she whispered. Skeea chirped, flicking a wet ear and pressing himself closer to her. She slowly let her arm fall between his wings, tangling her fingers in his fur. "You—" He could hear the grin in her voice. "I have my own pet griffin."

Skeea gave her a sidelong look, snacking her on the back of her head with his tail. The human giggled, stroking the thicker fur of his neck. "Okay, I won't call you a pet. At least when you're around." She stopped and climbed to her feet. She swayed for a moment, Skeea scrambling up and pressing himself against her leg to help stabilize her. She smiled down at him, tired and pained but also so happy. "You know, we were never properly introduced. I'm Wanily."

He held his head high and squawked his name at her. "Skeea!"

She blinked at him. "Riiiight." She pressed her lips together, and Skeea didn't like the spark in her eye. "Well, I don't speak griffin. So I'll call you..." She pursed her lips as she thought. Suddenly, she grinned. "Fluffy."

Skeea squawked in indignation, bumping her leg with his shoulder. He forgot why that was a bad idea until she leaned precariously to the side, very nearly losing her footing on the stone beneath their feet. She laughed even as she stumbled back to the shore, water splashing with every step, together the sounds forming a happy melody. "Okay, okay, you don't like Fluffy. The pet of the great Archmage will need a way cooler name anyhow. How about Bion? You know, like lion and bird slammed together. I guess, Lird could work too, but that one just sounds weird. Or how about—" She stopped suddenly and turned her head ever so slightly to look back at him. For once, Skeea couldn't quite decipher the look in her eye. "How do you feel about Ekostapholles? Eko the Griffin. Oh, oh, Eko the Effervescent? Eko the Efficacious." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Skeea snorted, a sharp whistling sound through the holes of his beak. The name... wasn't atrocious. He chirped at her.

"Eko it is, then." She took another step only for her knee to buckle under her weight. Eko instantly called on his magic, flapping his wings and using the air to steady him as shoved his head under the human's arm. She fumbled to get her legs to cooperate with her, putting her weight against him with her arm slung around his neck. Eko struggled to remain aloft, but he wouldn't let his human down now.

She tried another step, leaning against him heavily, and didn't fall this time, at least. Her breaths shuddered, and Eko could feel every one against his side.

"You know," Wanily began, voice tight, words slurring slightly. "I'm pretty glad you stayed. I'm not really sure I would have been able to make it back to our camp on my own. No, not that way, you weren't paying attention—this way. Anyway, there's still some of that potion left to get my arm patched up, but I didn't exactly have time to bring it. Don't know about that punch though. Amera, that hurt. I think he gave me a concussion, if this nausea and lack of balance is anything to go by. I'll let you know if I think I'm gonna throw up. Wouldn’t want to undo all my hard work."

Eko chirped in alarm, wrapping his tail around her back. It was more difficult when they began walking back through the woods proper. He was already going slowly for her, now he had to curl the tips of his wings up so they wouldn't hit the trunks of the trees. His magic felt strained trying to keep him up, like an overworked muscle. But he could do this, and he would do this. She was his flock now, and the flock always supported the weak until they could fly.