It had only been a few short hours of sleep since their bond began, but the gray griffin was already visibly larger and stronger the morning after the assigning. The fuzzy little keet responded immediately when Erin spoke aloud to herself about it being time to go to their first class, getting up onto significantly less-wobbly feet than it had just yesterday. Its orange eyes were bright and expectant, but slightly urgent—a clear sign that it was looking forward to gulping down its next meal.

The sleeping arrangements in the form of barracks for the new caretakers would only be temporary for a few weeks until the keets were a little bigger and their rider-bonds were cemented, but staying in the Aerie was a breath of fresh air after the stuffiness of Tannoran’s manor, and made it easy for Erin and her gray baby to be one of the first to show up for their first lesson. Erin entered the room and was issued a pair of heavy leather gloves by an Aerie staff member.

The only ones to beat them there were Arlis and his red keet, seated in the first row of straw bales at the front of the room. The boy paid them no mind, but his keet puffed up and chirped a loud welcome to the gray, who gave its sibling a similar greeting. In some instinctive griffin custom, they shook in unison and smoothed their fuzz back down again, as if approving each other. The gray then looked around and sniffed the air before looking up at Erin with questioning eyes.

"Not yet," she said with another soft laugh, bending to to scratch the griffin under its chin. "Soon."

Other men and women began to file in to receive their new gloves, similar keet greetings happening every thirty seconds or so as the rider pairs milled, almost as if the former nestmates were making sure everyone was accounted for. Every person was with their griffin except for Leslyn, whose pace was a dejected trudge. His keet was notably absent.

Kaleit came in just after Leslyn and made a point of glowering at Erin from across the room before roughly shouldering past her uncle, his black keet tottering gracelessly between Leslyn's legs and nearly tripping him.

Erin forgot for the moment that she was mad at Leslyn and was out of her seat and stomping their way, jaw and both fists clenched. Kaleit heard her from a mile away and turned to loom over her just as she was gearing up to confront him. Their eyes locked, close enough for her to notice a tiny scar that crossed over his sharp jawline. Her lip pouted—not in the winsome way she might have if she’d still thought him worthwhile—but as a warning to him to be very, very careful not to poke at the prickly little porcupine named Erin.

In her zeal, she failed to hold herself to the same caution towards him. Entirely forgetting the whole concept of citizenship and what trouble she might be getting herself into, she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind. Luckily for her, before a single syllable could escape, Leslyn had taken her arm and was bodily hauling her back to her place beside her patient gray keet.

“Don’t,” Leslyn said in a low tone as she grudgingly plopped onto her straw bale seat with a pout. “I’m worried it’ll make things worse.”

“Of course it will. He’s such a jerk.” She shot another glare in Kaleit’s direction, and got the same in return. “What is his problem today, anyway? He’s got what he wanted.”

“I don’t know. I figured he’d be over Crylis now that he’s landed his griffin."

“What about him?” Erin nodded toward Arlis. “There’s a rumor going around that he’s actually too young to have one. What’s with that?”

“He is. A year and some months too young.” He frowned. “Wrath broke a lot of rules yesterday. She’s smarter than other griffins, and does whatever she wants. I know why she hates me, but for some reason she seems to have it out for Kaleit, too. She teased him with the red he wanted and then gave it to Arlis, who wasn’t even qualified to have one in the first place. She made us both wait until dead last and gave us the most troublesome of her keets."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Must have made him really mad, a kid stealing his prize,” she snorted.

“Sure, but he won’t dare do a thing about that. Arlis is royalty. Koben’s cousin.”

“Must be nice to be immune.” Erin’s smirk dulled as something occurred to her. “Koben's your boss. Doesn’t that give you some kind of protection? And where is your griffin, anyway? It’s okay, isn’t it?”

His eyes suddenly sad, Leslyn was about to answer, but the Aeriemaster’s voice rang out, calling everyone to attention. Erin took some comfort from patting the gray keet on the floor at her side, but kept sending troubled glances toward her uncle.

“You’re here this morning to learn ground rules,” Gunu informed the group. “Number one: Don't pick up your keet. It’s generally safe when they’re this young, but they will grow strong very quickly and it’s best not to get in the habit. If you absolutely must pick it up in an emergency and no wrapping materials are available, always carry it with wings firmly pinned and talons out. Never hug them to your chest like a baby, no matter how cute you think they are. They have defensive instincts that cannot be controlled if startled, and I'm sure you're all aware that it is much more comfortable with your guts inside of you than out.”

With wide eyes, Erin dropped her gaze to her gray’s tiny clawed feet, palms feeling suddenly sweaty. Okay, noooo more cuddling. Got it.

“On that note, number two: Until they learn manners, always wear your gloves at feeding time.” He held up his left hand and pulled off the single glove he always wore. He was missing the first joint of his first, third and pinkie fingers.

Judging by the startled gasps and murmuring among the students, no more needed to be said.

“Three,” he barked, cutting through the chatter, “feed your keet only once a day, either morning or night, until it refuses another bite. Don't give it ‘treats’ or try to feed it smaller meals as you take your own. Feeding too often disrupts its natural digestion cycle and teaches it to expect food when it should be expecting to work, and can lead to acting out or developing a biting habit.”

“Hence the missing fingers?” a man with a black keet piped up. There were approximately two hesitant chuckles in response, but the otherwise increasingly tense tone of the room was enough to make the jester shrink in shame without a word from the Aeriemaster.

Expression as ironically dull as it usually was in these situations, Gunu went on. “Four: Griffins are not pets, toys, or flying carts. They are sentient, emotional beings, and this will become more and more obvious as they mature. Don't speak to them as if they are half-wits. Don't treat them like furniture to be used on your whim and then ignored at all other times. They need acknowledgment, encouragement, and regular social interaction just as much as we do.”

All of that was obvious to Erin even if she hadn’t dreamed up any griffin lore, having already seen Wrath do plenty of impossibly smart things.

“A correctional swat,” he continued, “may be needed rarely for some and often for others, but don't ever strike hard enough to harm except in extreme emergency where it's life or death. The same goes for verbal punishment. An abused griffin eventually becomes sick and dies, abandons its master and goes feral, or loses its mind and becomes a mankiller. There is one end for such unfortunate beasts as the last, and it is not pleasant.”

The room had stilled to complete silence. Erin was purely shocked that such a thing could happen, and looked around to see what the others thought. Some seemed just as surprised as she was, but some, including Kaleit, were absolutely seething. “Arrex,” he said, obvious restraint shaking his voice.

“Yes. The former Captain Arrex, one of very few who managed not to become his deranged griffin's first victim.” The Aeriemaster's gaze was cold. “His reward for surviving? Disgrace. Utter and complete disgrace. All titles and property removed. Citizenship revoked. Banned from sponsorship—not that anyone would have offered to host him. Best such a soulless man like that can do for a living then is beg in the streets, but he was too proud for that. He took to the sea to face his fate at the slime-coated hands of the merfolk.”

“Serves him right,” the waifish female soldier muttered, leaning down to cup her big red keet’s cheek possessively. Murmurs of staunch agreement rose up around her.

“Koben wasn’t kidding.”

Erin looked over at Leslyn’s quiet comment. “About what?”

“Griffins are a really, really, really big deal.”

He was right. It was becoming clearer and clearer the longer the lesson went on.

Suddenly, Erin had an unpleasant epiphany. “We’re his problem.”

“Yeah.” The boy glanced at Kaleit. “Yeah, we are.”