by K J Taylor
Things did not improve on the next day, or the next. She made a few kills, but only sporadically, and the huge herds she had fed on before were gone. She flew far and wide over the plains and did find other herds there, but they were far away, too far for her to carry a kill back to her nest. In the end she was forced to eat what she caught on the spot and carry whatever she could back to her chicks.
It was not enough. Little by little, as the weeks went by and food remained scarce, she saw them beginning to starve. One of the brown chicks—the only female of the brood—weakened very quickly. She had already been the feeblest of the chicks, and now that there was not enough food to go around, the other two were quick to bully and steal food from her. Saekrae knew she would not survive long. But after a time, when Saekrae, too, was beginning to be in danger of starvation, the other of the brown chicks weakened as well. The black chick, still the strongest of them all, did rather better and even began to bully it as well. Saekrae had never seen a chick with so much will to live.
And then, one day, she returned to the nest to find both brown chicks dead.
2
The Emptied Nest
At first when she saw them, Saekrae thought they had died from hunger and exposure. She had been away from the nest for longer than she should have, bent on finding proper food after a week of virtually nothing, and had underestimated the amount of time it would take her to get back. On reaching the place where there had been a herd of animals once before, she found it deserted and flew on beyond it, half-mad with hunger and desperation. Still nothing, and when she had finally headed back to her chicks, a high wind had sprung up, forcing her to land and wait for it to die down. Night came and she slept, curled up in the meagre shelter she had found, and when morning came it was calm enough to fly. She turned for home with a feeling of cold apprehension, and when she finally reached the nest, at midday, she found only one chick waiting for her.
The two dead chicks were not huddled as if they had died in their sleep. One lay on its side, its head thrown back, and the other was on its front, its little limbs curled in under its belly.
The black chick appeared to be in relatively good health. It had torn open the stomach of one of its dead siblings and was eating at the flesh, chirping enthusiastically to itself.
Saekrae looked down on it, glad that at least one of her young had survived.
It was not until she nudged at the other dead chick that she saw the marks of talons on its back and the deep wound in its throat, the feathers around it stiff with dried blood.
Saekrae looked at the black chick. It ate ravenously, muttering aloud to itself. “Food, food, food, food.”
“Yes,” Saekrae said softly. “Food.”
The black chick lived off its dead siblings for several days. They were thin and did not have much meat on them, but their surviving brother ate everything—skin, organs, fur and feathers—leaving nothing but the bones. During that time Saekrae had gone on trying to hunt, even if she could only feed herself. The herds did not return, but some of her luck did: she began to find prey in the valley again. The wild goats had come back, and she could live off them—not as prosperously as she had lived off the herds on the plains, but it was enough. Still, she continued to explore the plains when she had the chance, and she made a kill there from time to time. It was a good way to supplement her diet.
And the black chick grew. The last of his babyish fluff disappeared, and the stubby wings on his back sprouted long, rigid primary feathers in a handsome mix of black, white and silver. He had more than doubled in size since his hatching and was becoming more and more energetic. Not content to stay in the nest any more, he began trying to climb out of it and explore the tree branches around it, and Saekrae couldn’t be there to stop him all the time. He was starting to test his wings, flapping them experimentally to strengthen the muscles and trying little half-flying jumps from the side of the nest. Very soon he would be ready for true flight, and after that he could begin learning how to hunt.
One day, while the black chick was sleeping, Saekrae took the opportunity to leave him and go hunting again. It was a fine, clear day, and she flew up over the valley, feeling the sun on her wings. She liked summer. Hunting was better and the weather more pleasant.
She flew in a leisurely circle, looking for prey as always. The goat herd generally came to the stream to drink at this time of day.
They weren’t there today. Instead she found them at the centre of the valley, in the marshy patch, browsing on the lichen that hung from the trees. Saekrae closed in, choosing her target. She selected a large one that was near the edge of the herd and swooped down on it at full speed before it saw her shadow. But she had acted too hastily. The animal moved as she began her dive, and then glanced up. It saw her and bolted.
Saekrae changed direction in midair, angling to head the goat off. It banked sharply to avoid her, and as she turned again, a tree suddenly reared up in front of her. She hit it hard, the branches shattering under the impact of her outstretched forelegs. Unable to recover herself, she ploughed headfirst into the ground. The collision knocked all the breath out of her. She lay in a tangled heap for a few moments and then struggled to her paws. One of her forelegs was sprained, and there was a fragment of wood stuck in her chest. She wrenched it out with her beak and limped away from the tree, shaking her head dazedly.
The goats had fled, and blood was trickling from one of her toes where a talon had been ripped clean away. She took off with a slow, clumsy beat of wings and regained the air. The tree that had robbed her of her prey seemed to mock her with its waving branches, and she screeched her rage.
And she was answered.
Saekrae’s head jerked upward as the loud and unmistakeable cry of another griffin echoed over the mountains toward her.
Her fury hardened in her throat. She thrashed her wings, straining for extra height, and opened her beak wide to scream her name. “Saekrae!”
A few moments later the reply came back. The intruder had heard her and was not backing down.
Saekrae forgot about the aborted hunting trip and forgot about her chick. She flew straight upward, making for the peak of the tall mountain that backed her nest. From there she would be able to see a long way and the other griffin would not be able to hide from her. She beat her wings with all her strength, flying as fast as she could, bent on reaching her goal before the enemy arrived.
But as she neared the peak looming overhead there was another screech, and the other griffin soared up over it and into the valley. Even as Saekrae pulled up short, wheeling around to pursue him, something happened that struck fear and confusion into her.
Two more griffins appeared, following on the tail of the first. Both of them were large adults.
Saekrae knew what this meant.
Perhaps she should have fled, but she did not. She would not abandon her young. She rushed at the first of the intruders, foretalons pointed straight at him.
The other griffin—a female a little smaller than her, with pale grey feathers and fur—turned to face her, but instead of flying at her she simply lowered her head and shot past. But then, as the two of them passed close to each other, pain spiked into Saekrae’s body. She screeched and bucked wildly in the air, and then the two other griffins were on her. Talons struck her hard in the back, tearing great wounds down over her flanks, and a beak hit her in the neck, at the base of her skull. She turned in the air and latched her claws into the belly of one of her attackers, her beak aimed for her throat. The other griffin tore at her, trying to shake her off, but she would not let go, and the two of them fell from the sky, locked together and ripping at each other.
Mere inches from the treetops Saekrae suddenly let go and twisted free, opening her wings to catch an updraft. It carried her to where the two other griffins circled, and she screamed her defiance and came on toward them, blood streaming down her sides.
It was a futile gesture. Even as she swooped upward, she saw the two of them
fold their wings and drop toward her, heads down. Perched on their shoulders, just in front of their wings, the humans that rode them held on tightly.
In midair, one of them unshipped the bow that hung from his shoulder and held on expertly with his knees as he nocked an arrow onto the string. He paused to sight down the shaft at the wild griffin rushing toward him, and then loosed the arrow.
His aim was true. The arrow hit Saekrae in the face, the barb going straight through her eye and vanishing, shaft and all.
Saekrae’s neck jerked violently, and an instant later her wings buckled. She fell backward out of the sky and plunged earthward, headfirst, wings and legs flailing aimlessly. She was dead well before she hit the ground.
The three griffins came down to land at the edge of the trees where she had fallen, and the riders dismounted. The one whose griffin had grappled with Saekrae in the air quickly began to examine his partner’s injuries. They were deep but not life threatening, and he took a jar of brown salve from inside his tunic and started to dress them. “We can treat you properly when we get home,” he said, speaking the harsh language of griffins. “There, is that better?”
The griffin fluttered her wings. “I will be well,” she said. “Are you hurt?”
The man patted her neck. “Fine. You fought magnificently. That one was strong.”
“Only a common brown,” the griffin said dismissively. “But her talons were sharp.”
The man’s two companions ambled over. “How is she?” one asked.
The man straightened up. “She’ll be fine. Just a few flesh wounds. That was a brave thing you did there, Rannagon. I thought you were going to get yourself killed.”
Rannagon couldn’t help but look proud. “Thanks, Elrick. It took years to learn that, you know.”
The third member of the party rolled her eyes. “I told you you couldn’t teach him anything about archery. Shall we go and have a look at the beast now?”
“I’m ready when you are,” said Elrick. He turned to his griffin. “Will you come with us, Keth?”
Keth clicked her beak. “I will come.”
The little group entered the trees, with the humans going ahead, finding it easier to move in the confined space. The ground was boggy here, and they had to pick their way from rock to rock, sometimes using fallen logs or tussocks of grass to avoid sinking into the mud. The griffins followed with less care, keeping their wings tight to their sides to avoid snagging them on the undergrowth.
“Gods, what a dump,” Rannagon muttered, extracting his leg from a muddy hole that had claimed it up to the knee.
They found Saekrae lying on her back with one shattered wing crumpled beneath her. Her beak was open toward the sky, and her remaining eye was glazed.
Rannagon walked around her, taking in her size. He whistled. “She’s a fine specimen. Twenty-five years old at least, I’d guess. What a waste.”
Elrick followed him, noting the arrows poking out of her. “You’ve ruined the hide.”
“That wasn’t me,” said Rannagon. “Kaelyn did that. I was aiming for the wings.”
“I wasn’t going to take any risks,” said Kaelyn, joining them. “The thing was huge, and I didn’t know you were going to use one of your magic shots. Anyway, I’m damned if I’m going to do any skinning out here; it’d take forever. And you can forget carrying a stinking hide through that swamp.”
Elrick shrugged. “I’m not blaming you. I prefer the safer approach with these things. Let’s just take a few feathers and be gone.”
Rannagon had found his arrow embedded in Saekrae. It had gone in so deeply that only the tip of the fletching was visible among the blood and the vile muck of the ruined eye. He touched it with a fingertip. “By gods, I must have been in perfect form when I loosed that one. Are we just taking the feathers?”
Elrick was already wrenching out the long flight feathers from Saekrae’s wing. “If you want the tail or the talons, be my guest. Kaelyn, could you give me a hand here?”
Kaelyn fingered a clump of feathers. “They’re pretty rough. I’d say she hadn’t been eating so well lately. See how bony the haunches are?”
“Well, those farmers weren’t about to let her keep taking their stock,” said Rannagon. “They must’ve moved them far enough to get them out of her range. I wonder why she didn’t just move further into the mountains. Griffins aren’t usually stupid enough to risk stealing.”
Elrick ran a hand through his greying hair. “Unless she had something here to make her want to stay.”
Kaelyn glanced at him. “You mean she was nesting?”
“Maybe. We should have a scout around, anyway, just to be on the safe side. Can’t let her chicks starve to death.”
He finished stripping the feathers from Saekrae’s wings, with Kaelyn’s help, while Rannagon took out a knife and cut the end off her tail for a trophy. Once they were done and the feathers had been rolled up in cloth the three of them returned to the open, remounted and flew back up to circling height.
Rannagon leant forward to talk to his griffin. “What d’you see, Shoa?”
Shoa scanned the ground for a time. “Nest,” she said at length, and circled down toward it. The others had also spotted it and Elrick climbed down off Keth’s back and into the nest. He poked through the nesting material while Rannagon and Kaelyn, lacking the room to dismount, looked on.
“Anything?” said Kaelyn.
Elrick straightened up. “Nothing. Just a few bones and some shell fragments.”
“Stillborn?” said Rannagon.
“No, they’re too well developed for that,” said Elrick. “Have a look.”
He tossed a small bleached skull to Rannagon, who caught it and turned it over in his fingers. The delicate bone at the base of the skull had been broken, and the dark coating was peeling away from the beak; the whole thing was about the size of his fist. “Hmm. I see what you mean. I’d say it lived for a few weeks at the very least.” He dropped it back into the nest.
“There’s another one here,” said Elrick. “It’s in better condition.” He pocketed the other skull and a few pieces of shell before climbing into the saddle. “I’ll take it back for Roland. He was nagging me to bring him something. All right, let’s get going.”
Kaelyn sighed. “Poor little things. They must have starved to death.”
“Yes, it just isn’t good territory here,” said Rannagon. “Not with humans so close. Maybe one griffin could’ve survived, but not with a nest full of chicks. It’s almost sad how animals try to breed even when it’s just not practical, isn’t it?”
“Life holds on where it can,” Shoa interrupted. “Humans are the same.”
“You’re right, as always,” said Rannagon, scratching her neck.
She closed her eyes and crooned, but then abruptly turned away and took to the air again, forcing Rannagon to grab hold of the harness on her neck to avoid falling to his death.
Elrick chuckled as Keth followed more sedately, and the two griffins flew up and out of the valley. Kaelyn’s griffin paused to poke his beak into the nest. He nosed at the cold litter and the pathetically small bones of the dead chicks.
“What is it?” Kaelyn asked.
He raised his head again and snorted. “A smell. It does not matter.” He flew off before she could ask any more questions, and as the two of them soared upward and away from the nest, neither one saw the pair of silver eyes that watched them balefully from a branch.
The black hatchling did not move for a long time after the strangers had gone. Instinct had made him leave the nest and hide on a branch beneath it, but once the danger had passed he didn’t know what to do next. After sitting on the branch for some time, motionless but for the twitching of his tail, he crawled out along it and climbed back into the nest. His foreclaws were strong and knew instinctively where to grip, and he heaved himself up over the side and tumbled into the bottom of the nest. It was cold and he could smell the sharp, alien scent of the intruders. But he curled up am
id the soft tufts of fur and feather that Saekrae had used to line it, and waited.
Night came. After a while the moon rose. The black chick slept, almost completely invisible in the gloom, his head tucked under his wing.
He woke up shivering the next morning. Without his siblings to snuggle up against, the nest seemed a lot bigger and colder.
The black chick roused himself by flapping his wings, and looked around for Saekrae. She wasn’t there. He stumbled around the nest looking for her, but he could not see her anywhere. She was neither in the sky overhead, nor on the branch by the nest where she liked to perch.
“Food?” he called hopefully.
Only silence came back. He continued to call loudly, expecting Saekrae to appear and bring him food, but she did not come, and he called and called until hunger and exhaustion forced him to stop. He slept for a while and woke when the sun was well up.
“Food?”
Nothing. No Saekrae. No food. The chick found the bones from the last meal she had brought and pecked listlessly at them. There were a few bits of dried meat still clinging to them, and he occupied himself for a while with trying to tear them free. These tiny morsels only increased his hunger, and he called for Saekrae again. This time he gave up more quickly and curled up beside the skull of his dead sister, whimpering softly.
The day wore on and his hunger kept him awake. At last, both bored and distressed, he got up and began to explore.
There was no food inside the nest, so perhaps there was some outside it. He had done this plenty of times when Saekrae was away. A griffin chick is built to climb. He dug his claws into the side of the nest and began to haul himself up and over. His hind legs knew what to do; the claws shot out and his toes spread wide to give him purchase as he thrust upward, foretalons gouging the shattered wood, his tail thrashing determinedly.