The Gryphon Generation Book 2: A New Era

by Alexander Bizzell

  Thyra screeched and strained again, but no matter how hard she willed it, her wings continued their slow decent towards the ground. Jason shouted at her again, but it was no use. Thyra collapsed on the mat once more and let out a loud sigh of exhaustion. She trembled, lying splayed out on the mat with wings outstretched.

  “Very good, Thyra. That’s it for today,” Jason said. He walked over and worked off the Velcro strap holding the weights to the end of her wings.

  “Thank the skies…” Thyra muttered in between her labored breaths. Rachel looked over at the weights and grinned then back at Thyra.

  “You’re only using ten pounds? When I do that exercise, I use twenties at the least!” Rachel taunted. Thyra scoffed and slowly got back to her feet once more.

  “Yeah, it’s because your wings and half as long as mine are! It’s about leverage, not weight.” Thyra replied and winced as she tried to fold her wings back in. She tested her wings again, slowly unfolding and folding them back again.

  “Go down to recovery and make sure someone puts some ice on your wingshoulders,” Jason said as he put away the weights on a weight rack. “Rest up, drink plenty of water, and be back here ready to go again on Monday.”

  “Have a good weekend, Jason,” Thyra said and started walking towards the opposite end of the workout room. Rachel padded up alongside her, still full of energy even after working out for hours.

  “I’ll show you were medical is! So, what are you doing this weekend?” Rachel asked and followed Thyra out the door.

  “I just want to be at home and do nothing, honestly. If I can even fly home,” Thyra said. They continued down the stairs and turned left. Rachel led her down the hallway and stopped at a pair of double doors with a red cross on the front. “What about you? Going back to Chattanooga?”

  “Of course! There’s a music festival in town this weekend, and I want to go to it.” Rachel opened up one of the doors.

  There were a couple of massage tables off to the side, and giant metal bathtubs on the far wall. A human female with short red hair stood at one of the massage tables where Nathanial lay stretched out on his belly. He groaned as she opened his wing and pressed between his wingshoulders.

  The woman turned to look at the two as they walked in. “Hey Rachel. Is this the new player?” she asked curiously as she folded in Nathanial’s black wing.

  “Yeah! This is Thyra. She needs some ice for her wingshoulders and maybe a massage, but not on that table since it’s probably infested with feather mites now.” Rachel stared back at Nathanial, who ruffled his hackle feathers with agitation.

  Nathanial huffed through his nares. He stood up on the massage table and jumped off, settling his wings and staring at the two with his pure black eyes. “I don’t have feather mites! You’re the one that’s infested, fish breath,” he retorted. “Why don’t you get Carol to spray you down, while you’re here.”

  With that, he raised his head up high and walked between the two, making sure to shove past them as he walked out the door. Rachel turned around to watch Nathanial leave, eyes not leaving the gryphon until he was out of sight.

  “What, no smart comment back?” Thyra said and noticed Rachel staring. “Wait, were you just checking him out?”

  Rachel turned around quickly with a blush on her nares, staring back at Thyra. “No! As if…” Rachel huffed which made Thyra chuckle with amusement. Carol stood at the table, confused by the sudden exchange and cleared her throat politely.

  “If your wingshoulders are in pain, then hop up on here and I’ll take care of you,” Carol said and patted the soft cushions on the massage table.

  Thyra walked over and hoped up on the table before lying down on her belly. Carol carefully took a wing in her hands and stretched it out, making Thyra wince.

  “So, how long have you been playing Gryphball?” Carol asked while slowly opening and closing the wing. Thyra grit her beak and took a deep breath.

  “Just this week.” Thyra responded.

  Carol was shocked by the response and stopped for a moment, then placed a hand on her left wingshoulder. She pressed down gently, extended the wing out and gave it a sharp tug.

  Thyra cursed under her breath. “I thought this was supposed to make me feel better.”

  “It will, trust me. I’ve studied gryphon anatomy for eight years now,” Carol replied and tugged hard, making Thyra’s claws dig into the cushions. “So, you’ve never played gryphball before this week?” Carol asked again and folded in Thyra’s wing.

  “Not really. I’ve been a fan as long as I can remember, but there weren’t any other gryphons in Macon to play with.” Thyra watched as Carol walked around to her other side and placed a hand on the opposite wingshoulder. “But I guess I have natural talent for it. That’s what Richard said.” Thyra winced again as Carol pulled on the other wing now, keeping firm pressure on her back.

  “It is what your kind was created for, after all,” Carol responded and tugged again. “Being a red-tailed hawk means you can adapt to many different situations. So it’s no surprise you can play well in any position, really.” Carol slowly folded and unfolded Thyra’s wing a couple of times, inspecting the primary flight feathers for any damage.

  “What about you? What did you do before this, whatever this is?” Thyra questioned. She rolled her head over and watched Carol stroke her fingers through the secondaries.

  “I was a veterinarian, specialized in avians. When I graduated school, I worked for a vet hospital for a couple years and watched as the first gryphon species were created.” Carol released Thyra’s wing and walked over to a stainless freezer to retrieve a blue bag of ice. “I was mesmerized by the first pictures I saw, and immediately I wanted to work with them. I know I couldn’t afford to go back to medical school to get another degree to work in a hospital, so I decided to be an athletic therapist for gryphons.”

  Carol placed the cold pack of ice on Thyra’s wingshoulders and pressed firmly. The sudden chilling sensation caused Thyra to rouse her feathers.

  “The Gryphball league quickly realized there was a huge lack of athletic therapists that understand animal anatomy, and there were job openings everywhere for them.” Carol pulled out a small flashlight from her white coat pocket and turned it on. She pulled up Thyra’s eartufts and peered inside. “They just saw I was experienced with avians and had a vet degree, so they pulled me in. It wouldn’t be so easy nowadays. Now, they have specific degrees and courses for this type of thing.”

  “I guess I never thought about it,” Thyra said.

  Carol walked to her front and hold out a finger in front of Thyra’s eyes. Carol shined the light towards her eyes and she followed the finger.

  “Nobody seemed to think about it. In the beginning, sick gryphons were administered to vet hospitals. People quickly found out that gryphons are extremely more complicated than your basic avian or mammal.” Carol reached forward and grabbed Thyra’s beak. She pulled out a tongue depressor from her pocked and motioned with her mouth for Thyra to open her beak. “We all just adapted as quickly as we could.” Carol pressed the tongue depressor into Thyra’s beak and glanced inside with the light. Satisfied, she clicked off the light and threw the wooden stick into the trash.

  “I thought I was in here for my aching wingshoulders,” Thyra said, feeling like a lab rat once again. The sounds of running water made Thyra’s eartufts perk up and she glanced over to the back. Rachel was running a bath in one of the metal tubs, testing the water temperature with a foreclaw.

  “You are, but since I don’t have any medical data on you yet I want to get a baseline reading on you. They really should have made you come and see me on day one of training. I’ve told them over and over,” Carol said. She looked over Thyra’s beak again and ran her finger over the curve. “You could use a beak coping. I can do that for you too, if you want.”

  “No, I like to have my husband do it. Sort of our thing, you know?” Thyra responded. Carol raised her eyebrows and smiled.


  “Oh, well isn’t that sweet. Never seen a gryphon cope another gryphons beak,” Carol responded.

  “Actually, he’s a human. His name is Johnathen,” Thyra said. Carol paused for a minute and picked up her clipboard, seeming intrigued.

  “Is he now? Well that is something. Can’t say I’ve heard of a human and gryphon couple. Congratulations.” She looked down at her clipboard and began to scribble some information down. “Do you have any allergies?”

  “Not that I know of,” Thyra responded. She relaxed on her belly and watched Rachel climb up over the tub and lower herself into it.

  “Good. Are you on any medications?”

  “No.”

  “How many alcoholic drinks do you consume in a week?” Thyra paused for a minute and Carol glanced up from her clipboard. “Three? Four?”

  “Um… Maybe four. Depends.” Thyra said.

  Carol nodded and scratched some more on her clipboard before putting it back down on the table. “I’m going to take a blood sample from you.” Carol reached into a drawer and pulled out a package.

  “Really? Come on,” Thyra protested. “I hate needles.”

  “I’m sure you do. Seems most gryphons do. Probably because you were poked and prodded for years in the labs, but this will be quick and it will just be a little prick,” Carol said.

  She unwrapped the package and pulled out a syringe with a couple glass tubes. Thyra sighed and held out her arm. Carol ran her fingers up the gryphoness’ scaled forearms and parted the feathers around her elbow. She held the needle steady and slowly pushed it into Thyra’s skin. She bit her beak and closed her eyes.

  “See? Not so bad. I’ll give you a lollypop afterwards for being such a good girl,” Carol teased and twisted on the glass vial. It immediately began to fill with dark purple blood. “Maybe you can tell me how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop.”

  “I’m not an owl, so I don’t think I could tell you,” Thyra retorted.

  Carol laughed and pulled off the full vial before twisting on another one. Thyra lay still for a minute more and winced as Carol withdrew the needle. She put pressure on Thyra’s upper arm with a bandage and taped it down.

  “There. All done.” Carol said and labeled the blood vials before placing them in a rack. She removed the ice packs and set them on the counter before picking up her clipboard once again. Thyra slowly stood up and stretched out on the table before hopping down.

  “Try to keep your wings moving this weekend. Stretch them out periodically through the day and ice them before bed. Keep flying to a minimum and don’t overstrain yourself. You should be good as new by Monday,” Carol instructed.

  Thyra opened and closed her wings a couple of times and found that they felt better already. “Well looks like I’m not flying back to Macon today.”

  “I would advise against that, but I can’t stop you.” Carol put down the clipboard and opened up a drawer to pull out a lollypop. Thyra looked up and laughed.

  “I thought you were joking,” Thyra said and took the lollypop from her.

  “Usually I am, but I did take some blood. The sugar will help you from feeling lightheaded.”

  “Thanks.” Thyra unwrapped the lollypop and stuck it into her beak. She looked over to Rachel who was relaxing in the tub and waved to her. “See you Monday!” Thyra called out.

  Rachel lazily waved back as Thyra left through the doors. She walked down the hallway and into the locker room. There were some gryphons leftover from practice, discussing their weekend plans and gathering up their things.

  Aadhya walked out of the shower room and looked over to Thyra. “Ah. How was your weight training today?” She opened up her locker and gathered some casual clothing.

  “It was good I guess,” Thyra replied. “Jason kicked my tailfeathers. I feel like my wingshoulders have been clawed out. Carol told me not to fly home today, so I have to ask Johnathen to come drive me home.”

  She opened up her locker and withdrew her clunky cellphone before turning it on. Aadhya threw on a shirt over her head, and worked it over her wings until they were through the openings on the shirt’s back.

  “You plan on going home this weekend then,” Aadhya said with a little disappointment. She started pulling on a pair of slacks, working one foot in and then the other.

  “Yeah. I just want to be at home with Johnathen. What are you going to do this weekend?” Thyra asked curiously. Her phone booted up and began to ding with missed text messages. Thyra scrolled through the messages, there was one from Johnathen, and another from Isabell.

  “Cooking and cleaning mostly. I need to go to the grocery store, and perhaps a bit of reading. Nothing exciting.” Aadhya shut her locker and walked over to Thyra.

  “Sounds about what I’ll be doing.” Thyra responded and opened up the text from Johnathen first.

  Call me whenever you’re done with practice.

  Thyra closed the message and opened the one from Isabell.

  Hey! You better visit me this weekend. And bring me another one of those burgers Johnathen had. I can’t stand to eat another damn sloppy joe.

  Thyra chuckled and locked her phone, then looked up at the bearded vulture. “Well, if you want to come over for dinner, just call me. I’m sure Johnathen would love to talk to you. You two didn’t really get to meet last time.”

  Aadhya smiled warmly and bowed her head. “That would be delightful.” She stood to leave. “I will be available. Please do give me a call.”

  “I will. Bye, Addy.” Thyra watched her exit through the door and picked her phone back up. She dialed Johnathen and put the phone to her ear.

  “Hey hun… Yeah it was good! But I’m so sore. The therapist here told me not to fly much this weekend… I don’t want to make you drive all this way but I do want to come home. Ok! Well I’ll see you in a couple hours…. John, you sound upset, is everything ok?... Why can’t you tell me right now?... Ok, we can talk when you get here then…. Love you too.” Thyra hung up and looked at her phone, confused. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  Chapter 11 Lashing Out

  “Johnny! What’s up… what? That asshole, again?...Yeah, we’ll take care of him… Jack’s his name? Got it…Alright, we are on the way.” Saul hung up the phone and flicked his cigarette butt into a butt bucket.

  A cool autumn breeze blew through his long, graying beard and made it whisk about as he stood up from a bench and looked up into the clear afternoon sky. He rubbed his tired eyes and turned to walk back toward the hospital’s entrance.

  Saul and Carl had spent the past couple of nights at the hospital with Isabell, making sure she had company and was kept safe. Saul was fairly certain that no one would try to harm Isabell in the hospital, but it was precautionary. He walked through the entrance room and into the elevator. A couple standing inside looked at him strangely as the big biker joined them and Saul gave them a polite nod. He left the elevator after reaching the second floor and proceeded down the hallway to enter Isabell’s room.

  “You smell like cigarettes,” Isabell commented. The small black gryphoness flipped through the television stations. “I would kill to get out of this bed and have one.”

  “Maybe this hospital stay will help you quit. Lord knows I need to,” Saul replied and looked over to Carl. “That dude in the van is back at Johnathen’s house. We need to go pay this man a visit.”

  Carl looked up from his phone and stood up, giving him a nod in reply.

  Isabell’s eartufts pinned back against her head and she glanced over at Saul. “Well, teach him a lesson and hurry back. You know I don’t like to be alone.”

  “I’ll have one of the other boys come keep you company,” Saul said, and opened the door for Carl as he smiled warmly to Isabell. “We’ll be back tonight. If you want us to pick up anything, just give us a holler.”

  “Alright. You all be careful.” Isabell said, beak grinning back as the two left the room. The loud stomps of their boots echoed in the hallway.


  “We ain’t going to rough him up. We’re just going to have a polite and civil conversation,” Saul said to Carl. The big man nodded his head again and went into the elevator. “But, if he doesn’t seem too keen on having a conversation, we’ll have to find another way to get our point across . . . without violence.”

  Once the elevator reached the ground floor they both exited . The bikers walked outside and adjusted their leather jackets embroidered with their crew’s name. “Just follow my lead.”

  Saul and Carl put on their half helmets and mounted their Harleys. Both bikes fired to life, causing an eruption across the once quiet hospital parking lot. They took off down the street, engines roaring and echoing between the buildings. They turned onto the highway and rode side-by-side, heading towards Johnathen’s house.

  A short time later, the bikers pulled into the neighborhood and spotted the white Sprinter van parked outside. They pulled up in front of it before shutting their bikes off. Johnathen and Keith came out of the front door when they heard the sounds of their motorcycles.

  Saul did not look over at them, but instead focused on the man sitting inside the van. Confrontation came easy for Saul. He could be intimidating and still keep his composure under control, for the most part. The burly bikers dismounted their Harleys and walked over to the van window.

  Jack rolled down the window and glanced over at the approaching men before letting out a deep sigh. “Afternoon, fellas.”

  “Afternoon, Jack,” Saul remarked. Carl stood next to him, and folded his arms together, making him seem even bigger. Saul took of his half helmet and tucked it under his arm. “It seems you are bothering my friend over there,” he stated clearly in a deep tone.

  He looked over the man, seeing how small he was in comparison. Surely, just the presence of two bikers that were twice his size would be enough to scare the man, but Jack just stared back with emotionless eyes.