by Alex Rey
Coming up to the front doors, Molar stood on his rear legs as he used his aching front paws to push the doors open. Once making his way through the doors, he kicked them closed with his left rear leg. He then walked into an empty room where he found an unlit fireplace. Near it was a soft, comfortable carpet—such was something Molar demanded further investigation of.
Finding a comfortable place on the carpet, Molar began to curl up into a ball as he held his front paws near his beak. Despite the pain put into his toe, he nuzzled it gently with his head. All thoughts of the fish disappeared—slowly turning into thoughts of sleep.
--
For what seemed like decades did Molar rest his weary head upon his front paws. Thoughts of listlessness swept out and about in his mind. Peace and serenity followed through, dancing without any care in the world—until they were interrupted.
After a long time of resting his weary bones, Molar was awakened by the sound of laughter. What’s going on? wondered he. Listlessness suddenly turned into nimbleness—peace into chaos—when he took hearing of these chortles. A million and one thoughts flew around in his head until he came up with a single conclusion.
Quite the contemptuous griffin, he asked, Is somebody making fun of my dad? I’ll show them! Curiosity turning to fury, he picked himself up on his paws and made his way toward the nearest window. Poking his head through this opening, Molar witnessed a sight like nothing he had ever seen before.
He witnessed two creatures—much of his likeness—as they chased a third one with a fish in his beak; each of these creatures were his age if not younger. The one with the fish in his beak seemed very enthusiastic and competitive over the other two, his energy seemingly unlimited.
Fighting against the urge to jump through his window, Molar turned around, passed Carpla’s walls, and rushed up to the three griffins in a flash. It was then when he noticed the griffins were not mocking anybody, but rather having fun with each others’ presence. Interested by the game they were playing, Molar asked them “What are you doing?” upon catching their attention.
The one with the fish in his beak spit out his prize, placed it into his paws, and answered, “We’re playing Capture the Fish!”
Confused, a pause occurred as Molar wondered, “Capture the Fish? What’s that?”
The boy standing furthest from the one with the fish replied, “We first choose somebody to be the chased. He has to hold the fish while the rest of us chase him. The one that is able to capture the fish first will then be chased by the rest of us.”
“Can I play?” Molar asked excitedly hopping up and down on his paws. And to think they were just another one of my dad’s enemies!
The one with the fish placed the fish back in his beak when he mumbled in response, “Okay, but you have to chase me if you want the fish!”
--
After the game, the four boys introduced their selves. The one who had been the first for them to chase was Caeo, the one standing next to him was named Mesd, and the one standing furthest from Caeo was named Toakld.
Through the course of that day did the four children played many different games Molar had never taken any knowing of before. Not only could they make up games with the fish, but they could also make fun with nothing more than rocks—but that was just because Toakld accidentally swallowed the fish. It was after which when one of the griffins threw a rock into the air and allowed another to try and catch it with their beak before the stone could hit the ground.
Exhaustion gradually swept its way over the griffins’ gaze as they tried time and time again to come up with something fun to do. Eventually each of them burned out, lying on their backs—all the while beneath Mocrano’s ceiling.
“You’re a laugh, Molar!” exclaimed Caeo, nudging his new friend on the shoulder.
With a glint of agreement flashing in his eyes, Toakld popped in, “Maybe if I hadn’t eaten that fish, I could’ve shared it with you all! Sorry, guys.”
At that moment a moment of laughter was shared between the Caeo, Mesd, and Molar. Mesd was the only one made no such noise—but instead wheezed in response.
“Well, I guess I better head back home,” yawned Molar while picking himself up on his feet.
“Bye!” Caeo and Toakld called out in unison.
After a long time of playing with his new friends, Molar decided to head back into the castle—whose top floor Carpla was philosophizing on. Completely unaware of what Carpla was doing or thinking, Molar rushed toward home—running until his head crashed into two wooden doors.
Dizziness swept over the child’s gaze as he sat in the midst of the entrance to his home. With a shake of his head, pushed the doors open with a small start of hesitation. Gradually did he make his way through the doors and entered himself back into the castle.
Upon making it back inside, Molar took sight of many antiques sitting on the walls and on the floor—antiques he hadn’t remembered glancing at before. Molar took witness of a pot with the colors of fire stained on its outside; while the inside was stained with a rosy-red color. He also saw a round and black onyx; in it was carved a mysterious language of which he had never before seen.
These are beautiful! the child silently exclaimed, growing tired once again. It was then when he remembered how he’d forgotten to finish his sleep. With a small yawn escaping from his beak, he trotted back to his carpet without a care in the world.
--
Days and days had passed for the young child. During such times did he remain in his walls’ grasp—never understanding just what could happen around him. Why he didn’t simply go back to his friends during that time was beyond his knowing. All he knew was just how afraid he was.
Molar felt constrained by something—yet he hadn’t any idea what it was. Perhaps it was his own ignorance holding him back—or maybe the thought of being trampled on by another bear was what caused his fear.
Soon came the day when Molar decided to once again take a look around Mocrano. Although not entirely, he could remember quite well how the city was the last time he had exited his father’s walls. All those people I had met; why didn’t I ever see them again?
After such a long time of holding himself captive in his own home, Molar began to grow curious of the outside word. His natural curiosity caused him to believe the world surrounding him changed as rapidly as he himself did.
Nothing holding him back, Molar finally went back outside. With his bones stronger than ever before and his wounds from last time finally healed, he felt as if he could take on any challenge the foreign lands threw at him. With all these thoughts in mind, he picked himself up from his father’s carpet and walked up to his home’s exit.
Upon coming up to his father’s front doors, Molar pushed the incoming obstacles open with ease. Hey! I’m getting better at this! After which he sped past his father’s garden and out to the ever-expanding world in front of his face.
Within a matter of heartbeats would Molar see disappointment washing over his gaze. For starters, almost nothing about the outside world had changed—and to add to this, neither of the three griffins he met last time were anywhere in sight.
A small pout surpassed Molar’s shoulders as he decided to move on forward. I guess I’ll go to that pool of malid, he decided. Passing through the same scenery as he’d seen days ago, Molar ignored all the detail surrounding him.
With time did Molar find himself in front of the pond from which he had first sighted the fish he had eaten all those days ago. He looked carefully into the malid and saw his reflection. Because it had seemed an eternity since he last peered into a pool of any kind of liquid, he first found it hard to believe he was looking at himself.
No longer did his beak take up almost all his face; it seemed almost as if it had shrunk. A hint of curiosity blinding his gaze, he held up a foot in front of the reflective liquid—only to see that they, too, appeared to have shrunk. The only thing which seemed to have grown were his developing wings—which were growing folds out of w
hat had once been nothing more than two sticks. Lightly did he touch one of his shrinking toes to the malid and witnessed as a ring interfered with his reflected image.
After tinkering with the reflective green liquid, Molar decided to take a drink of it. Dipping his beak almost all the way into the malid, he let its bland taste engulf his beak just before allowing the moisture to seep through his throat.
Once past his throat, the malid would give his bones strength and texture—so now nothing would be able to break them. Instead of gathering up in Molar’s nonexistent stomach, the malid would stick to the drinkers’ bones with ease. Such a process was done not only for strength, but also to keep the bones sticky enough for the dusty food particles to attach to them.
Taking one last sip of the malid, Molar wiped some of the moisture from his beak just before walking across the pool. His paws nearly coming into the green malid, Molar took sight of a few rather large fish—noticing as their scales sharing the colors of marigolds.
Now around the pool, one more step caused Molar to trip over what seemed to be a lump in the gray, sandy Mocranian ground. “Whoa!” he simultaneously screamed as a shock spread from his toe and up to his ankle. A small bout of infuriation spread through his bones as he fell on his face.
With a grunt did he pick himself up, looking back at the lump just before scratching at the earth surrounding it with his oversized paws. Using his eagle-like beak, Molar picked up what he first believed to be a rock. With a few more tugs, however, did he find himself almost having to stand on his rear paws just to take this stone out of the ground. Wondering what it was that he was holding in his beak, Molar tossed it onto the ground.
Molar paced over to the object he had just thrown, noticing that it was actually a long, dusty bone. He noticed how the bone was much drier than any he had ever seen; fragility and thinness covered it on every grid that was once white. Even with all this in mind, he wasn’t sure what kind of bone this was—or even what animal it belonged to—at all.
It hadn’t taken long for him to grow bored of nature’s artifact. It’s just an old bone. Leaving it behind, Molar decided to go and run some energy out of his body—moving faster and faster with every passing heartbeat.
Soon Molar found himself speeding up to the point where his legs started having trouble keeping up with his carried momentum. Even with this fact in mind, he continued to push himself forward, rejecting rejection itself.
Zipping past many Mocranians and working slaves, Molar came to a stop when he took sight of a cliff. Such a beauty sparked wonder and millions of new thoughts into his mind. Of these thoughts was an interesting, but ridiculous idea—yet brilliant to the untrained mind.
Molar took a look at his wings, and then up at the cliff again. My wings are starting to get a bit big; maybe it’s time I put them to the test!
In a heartbeat, found himself Molar an eighth of the way up the cliff as he continued to chase the sky via this landslide’s bridge. Allowing his paws to curl around the edge of the cliff, he thought triumphantly, This is it! At the spark of his thoughts, he ran down the hill, careful not to fall off.
While the urge to fly slowly consumed his mind, he knew he couldn’t have done this on his own. I need to find my friends; they have to see this! This thought in mind, he let his paws carry him through Mocrano, feeling the breeze blow through his bones. The first of his friends he would summon would be Mesd.
Once again did Molar skip through Mocrano as the sound of multiple voices buzzed in and out of his earshot. Taking no heed toward a single one of these voices, he realized he hadn’t any idea where either of his friends lived. I’ll just have to get lucky!
Now with this knowledge in mind, Molar slowed his pace down slightly and listened for any sign of his friends’ presence. While Molar found his chances of actually finding them very slim, his desire to have his friends watch him pushed him forward.
With time did Molar find himself rushing through a valley of castles—and soon to a valley of Mocranian huts. Molar hadn’t any idea of his friends’ backgrounds; whether they were rich or poor was beyond his knowledge. Whether or not luck decided to be on his side seemed a troublesome thought.
Cough cough, called a familiar voice. Mesd? Such a thought brought his feet to an immediate halt. Upon stopping did he turn his head up and down and all around until he took sight of his muted friend.
“Mesd!” he called out, coming break-to-break with his friend.
With a weak cough did Mesd wave to Molar.
“Come quick!” Molar hastily demanded. “I’m going to start flying today!”
Without any words did Mesd express a shiver running down his spine. Whether or not such an action was performed for the sake of fear was beyond Molar’s knowledge. Rest assured, however, Mesd pointed one of his lion-like paws toward a direction unbeknown to Molar.
“Are you pointing toward Caeo and Toakld so I can meet them? Because—that’s just what I was going to do. Let’s go!”
With Mesd in the lead, the two griffins’ paws dragged through the ground. “Let’s see if we can find Toakld,” Molar commanded.
Still in the lead, Mesd gave a quick nod in response. Both of the two boys ran almost twice as fast as frightened cats. Had they actually known how to fly, it would have taken them half the time to reach Toakld’s home than on foot. Such was the burden of Molar’s thoughts.
--
It had taken awhile, but Molar and Mesd soon came to a point where their paws were far too weak to carry on without a break. Soon did the two griffins find their running pace come to a dramatic slowdown. How long have we been running? wondered Molar. And just how far is Toakld’s home from here?
Without any warning did a pool of malid catch Molar’s eye. Without hesitation did Molar tiredly asked his friend, “Do you want to take a break? Because I could sure use it!”
Looking over at Molar, Mesd allowed a pause of silence to slip between him and his friends just before nodding his approval. After which did he lose whatever strength he had left in his legs—crashing to the ground as a result.
At the sight of such a pleasant and necessary reaction, Molar allowed his feet’s acceleration to slow down until he was left with nothing but absolute stillness.
During this time of rest did the two young griffins heal, taking a few sips from the malid. Such was the time in which their bones quickly healed from the much-needed zest the malid gave them. Once ready to restart their paws in yet another race to Toakld’s home, Molar and Mesd lurched toward their destination with as much precision and speed as possible.
Had Molar picked somebody—anybody—over Mesd, he could have had a nice conversation during this run. But because of his foolish decision to choose Mesd in the midst of millions of other Mocranians, the only person he could have had a conversation with was with himself.
Whoa! Without any warning did Mesd stop dead in his tracks—all the while in the midst of an army of Mocranian huts. Fighting against every urge to trample over his silent friend, Molar just barely stopped on a dime right behind his friend—nearly tipping Mesd off his feet at the same time.
A smile on his face and a pointing gesture in his paw, Mesd located Toakld’s home.
“You found it!” exclaimed Molar. Without another single word did the young griffin march up to the small home. After this it’ll just be Caeo we have to look for; then it’s back to the cliff!
Raising himself on his hind legs, Molar popped his head through one of the hut’s windows and called out into the small home, “Toakld! Toakld—are you there? Toakld?” Much to the young griffin’s dismay, the house was emptied of all life.
Denying denial itself, Molar pulled his head from the window—turning his gaze on Mesd all the while—and asked, “Are you sure this is where Toakld lives?”
Slightly afraid, Mesd gave yet another nod. Had he done something wrong; was Molar to do something to him? He would never know for sure.
Disappointment showered over them once they had dis
covered their friend was not home. Slightly irritated, they trotted away from the castle, now making their way toward Caeo’s home. What would make this task even longer the necessary was the fact that Molar and Mesd would have to pass Carpla’s castle in order to meet up with Caeo.
Passing alleys of slaves and Mocranians selling goods, Molar and Mesd found themselves in a nobles’ neighborhood. In a dark-red castle they had found Caeo and convinced him to follow them to watch Molar fly for the first time. It was before such an even could occur, however, when the two boys who had worked off their paws just to reach Caeo took a long break before a single footstep toward the cliff could be made.
Taking what seemed like an eternity, the three griffins were finally able to find their way to the cliff Molar had told them about. Once there, Molar took a glance at his two friends, telling them excitedly, “I can’t wait to start flying!”
A spark of sympathy lit up in Caeo’s mind when he murmured, “Good luck, Molar! I can’t wait to see this!” A pause came to his words before Caeo continued, “You know what? I’ll join you! I wanna see this from up close—and then start flying with you! What about you, Mesd?”
A brief shake of his head told the other two griffins his thoughts.
“Well, okay Mesd. You just stay down here and watch us!” Not another word sprouted from Caeo’s beak when his weary paws sprinted over the cliff’s spiral-like path. Even with such immense power and anxiety within his feet, Caeo was passed by Molar—who was travelling with even more speed than what Caeo could handle.
Running up the hill, Molar’s friend gave a slight struggle to follow up with him. “Hey! Wait up!” called Caeo—but to no avail. All Molar could focus on was the pictures in his head—pictures of himself flying off the cliff, kissing the altitudinous air above.
At last Molar made it to the top of the cliff—exclaiming to his friends all the while, “Here I go!” As Molar’s paws began to curl around the edges of the cliff, Caeo hopped up and down anxiously. Envy swept over him and urged him to push Molar off the cliff.