by Ivy Asher
I have to squint to focus on what he’s showing me, and just when I make one out, the flying thing darts so fast I can’t keep track of it. The Cynas bellows a sound that’s somewhere between a moo and a bleat, and I cover my ears from the overwhelming volume of it. Several little creatures dive bomb the animal’s head, and I realize that the Mogus Treno is talking about don’t just hand an eviction notice to the Cynas whose homes they steal, they attack the Cynas and chase them off.
Well, that’s just fucking rude.
“I’m going to clear the Mogus from the Cynas Prime; you clear the Mogus from his mate, which is that one…” I scan to the left until I find another Cynas trampling the forest in an effort to escape the pestering Mogus.
“And exactly how do I do that?” I query, taking another step back just to find that I’ve now pressed myself against Treno’s warm body.
Yep, he’s definitely naked.
“Well, you did say you wanted to punch things…” he answers, trailing off.
Shit. I did say that. Stupid mouth saying stupid things!
“True, but I meant a certain Archivist...not overgrown Tinkerbelle-mosquito hybrids!” I defend.
“Mogus are annoying to Cynas, but they’re no threat to us, flower. If you don’t want to kill them, then just do to them what they’re doing to the Cynas, annoy them enough that they move on and leave our herd alone. Let your gryphon take the reins. I think you’ll be surprised by how much fun you both will have.”
Treno steps away from me, and the next thing I know, his gryphon is leaping into the air and flying right for the Cynas in front of me. Treno’s gryphon is all white except his forelegs and beak, which are a tan-yellow. I’m mesmerized as he moves through the sky like some predatory cloud. The sun blinds me for a moment as it reflects off his feathers like it does the snow, and I swear the heavens sing down their approval as he moves through the sky. Or maybe that’s just Pigeon.
As if my thought conjured the Tasmanian devil with wings, Pigeon slams mercilessly against the wall that separates us. I grab at my head as a throbbing starts just behind my eyes.
“Doesn’t that hurt you?” I ask, my tone dripping judgment. “What the fuck was that, Pidge?”
She slams against me again, and I can feel her desperation and excitement to take control bleed into our limbs.
“You’re into this?” I ask, shocked.
She flashes an image of gryphons flying together and playing, and I give an incredulous snort.
“You just want to play paws and wings with Treno,” I tease, like it’s the gryphon equivalent of footsie.
She slams against me again, and I growl. Hold your fucking tail feathers. Let me get undressed first so you don’t shred the only pants the tailor would make for us. Trust me, we need them. Did you see the dresses?” I ask her as I begin to unlace my top and pants. “More like strategically placed scraps of fabric, if you ask me,” I add, trying to hurry.
Pigeon’s need courses through me, making me antsy. She’s stopped trying to force control now that she knows I’m going to hand it over soon, but restlessness and adrenaline flood me all the same. I pull my shirt over my head and push my pants down before folding my clothes and setting them neatly at the base of a tree across from Treno’s messy pile of fabric.
“Okay, Pidge, I’m trusting you. Please don’t get us killed or make us Mogus food.”
I drop the wall between us and pull back in on myself as much as I can as Pigeon shoves her way in, and our body cracks and morphs until we rip apart what is me and explode into what is her. We stretch our massive wings and screech-roar our excitement over how good it feels. Being cooped up all the time sucks, and I make a mental note to incorporate more gryphon time into each day. Pigeon shoots us up into the sky, our strong wings doing exactly what they were made for.
The wind brushes through my feathers and fur as if it’s saying hello and inviting us to play. Pigeon puts us into a spin, and we twist through the sky, closing the distance between clear sky and the Cynas. A terrifying moo-roar fills the air all around us, and we look over to find the other Cynas trying to impale the Mogus with its antlers.
Damn, those Mogus are really pissing it off.
Treno is so fast I can only make out a streak of white through the pine needles and leaves of the trees as he hunts down his targets. Instead of being scared off by the Cynas’s war cry, it sings in Pigeon’s blood. It pushes her on and makes her want to destroy the annoying little shits pestering the poor female we’ve been tasked with helping. I spot a dragonfly-winged fucker diving for the long-haired, boar-headed female, and Pigeon takes off like a bullet in pursuit.
Pigeon takes to the chase, fitting us through the Cynas’s extensive array of antlers like we’re threading a needle. She gets close enough and manages to swipe at the thing with her taloned foreleg. The Mogus goes careening out of the sky and then smashes into a tree, where it splatters like a bug on a windshield. Pigeon and I both scream in triumph like we’ve just achieved something epic. I laugh and encourage her as we hunt down another, and Pidge preens from my praise. She’s completely in her element as we chase, kill, and dive bomb more unsuspecting Mogus.
I start humming songs from the Top Gun soundtrack, and Pigeon flits, flips, plummets, pitches, shoots, and swoops until we’ve cleared almost all the pests from around our Cynas. The last few fuckers left aren’t making things easy though. These little bitches have more brains than the others did. They force us into not only chasing them but dodging the Cynas as it loses its patience and tries to take matters into its own horns.
Pigeon and I are almost nailed by its antlers and tusks a couple of times. The long brown hair covering the female Cynas’s head is an obstacle too as it periodically shakes like a dog trying to get dry, and we almost get tangled up in the mangy tresses that fall down almost to her knees. Its giraffe like tail swats around as a Mogus tries to hide behind it. I look down and feel sorry for the flattened forest at the animal’s feet as it steps on full round trunks and snaps them like they’re toothpicks in an effort to get away from the last of her tormentors.
My full volume singing of “Danger Zone” morphs into a cheer when Pigeon rips an especially sneaky Mogus in half that we’ve been chasing for ten minutes.
“Only three left!” I urge.
I still haven’t spotted Treno’s gryphon aside from a wing or tail here and there, but his charge looks infinitely more relaxed than it did forty minutes ago, and I’m taking that as a good sign. Pigeon releases a frustrated growl as we just miss ripping apart another target. That growl morphs into a shriek when an antler comes out of nowhere, and we almost become gryphon jelly against a tree. She back rolls us in a way I didn’t even know was possible, and the Cynas takes out a tree instead of us. The tree splinters with a loud crack, and I can’t help thinking that could have been our bones.
The Mogus that just had us almost creamed goes right for the Cynas’s face. Pigeon roars and dives for it, but out of nowhere the Cynas charges forward, and neither Pigeon or I are ready for just how fast the big fucker can move when it wants to. One minute we’re diving, focused and ready to kick Mogus ass, and then in the next minute, we’re being knocked out of the air as if we’re the annoying pest worthy of being swatted.
It all happens so fast, I have no idea what even takes us down, but Pigeon tucks and rolls us into a relatively safe crash landing, well, that is until the Cynas goes in for a good trampling. The fucker is all over us before we can so much as blink. We keep our wings tucked as close to our body as we can for fear that they’ll be crushed otherwise. Hooves the size of cars slam down all around us, and I feel like the Little Mermaid when Ursula is trying to fry her at the bottom of a whirlpool. We’re just flapping around and screaming, trying not to become a gryphon pancake.
I spot what looks like a pocket sized little Cynas hiding under the long pelt of the massive one currently trying to kill Pigeon and me, and it all clicks. Well, shit. We have a pissed off mama on our hands. She p
robably doesn’t care that we were trying to help; she’s been fucked with by the Mogus for who knows how long, and now she’s out for blood. I don’t really blame her, but I also don’t want to fucking die.
The Cynas above us bellows out a roar that feels like it’s going to shatter our eardrums. It’s so loud and angry it vibrates through my bones. I swear to fuck I can hear the that’s it in it, and I know Pigeon and I have to figure out how to get the fuck away from her and kill the last few annoying pests so she can take a well-deserved nap or something.
There’s a clear path to the baby, and Pigeon and I debate for a moment about taking it. If we hang out on the little Cynas’s back, we might just make it out of this. Unfortunately, it’s a bitch move neither Pigeon or I can get on board with. Another hoof slams down next to us, and I scream.
That was too fucking close.
Suddenly another option pops into my head. I flash Pigeon an image of a bull rider and then another image of a giraffe’s leg. All we have to do is hold on to the leg until she stops the stompathon, and then we can try to make a break for it. We could even climb the leg and pelt until we get high enough and then push off into the air and finish off the sneaky Mogus fuckers that got us into this mess.
Pigeon sends out a wave of surprise and approval, clearly liking the plan and also revealing just how much she underestimates me. We’ll be talking about that later, but for now, we scramble out of the way of angry you fucked with the wrong bitch hooves and time our leap. We wait for the perfect moment as if we’re about to jump into a serious round of double Dutch and we need the rhythm of the two jump ropes to come around just right.
“Now!” I scream in our head, and we dive for the Cynas’s ankle and hold on for dear fucking life. We dig our talons and claws in deep to secure ourselves as much as possible. I feel bad because I don’t want to hurt her, but that concern disappears when it’s clear she doesn’t have the same reservations. She slams her foot down over and over again, and I can feel the bones in my body compress with each brutal impact with the ground.
It’s the worst fucking roller coaster ride ever, and I hate rollercoasters. Panic floods me when one stomp almost dislodges us. Pigeon’s fast reflexes turn our slipping into a leap higher up on the Cynas’s leg. We dig into a meatier part of her appendage and ride it out.
A large brown gryphon goes streaking past us, and I feel like someone at an air show, trying to track jets as they fly by. An image of other gryphons coming to our rescue flashes in our mind, and I get the distinct impression they just announced that the cavalry’s here. I woo hoo out my appreciation, but it sounds more like a creepy caw-moan coming out of Pigeon’s mouth.
Note to self, never make that noise again.
Pigeon and I carefully climb higher on the Cynas’s leg. She doesn’t so much as flinch, too distracted by all the new activity around her head as the other gryphons work to finish off the last of the evil Mogus. Pidge and I get high enough off the ground that it’s safe to make a leap for it, and we shove off of the angry mama Cynas just as she starts booking it in the direction of her mate.
The other gryphons back off too, and Pigeon and I waste no time getting as high up in the air as possible. Fear and adrenaline slam through our veins like a tsunami, and I watch the Cynas run way faster than an animal that size should be capable of. She meets up with her mate, and they get all nuzzly, and neither Pigeon or I can help the awww that bursts open inside our chest.
Pigeon and I quickly check in with each other to make sure we’re okay. I praise her quick thinking and skill, and she sends me wing fives and images of us leaping to safety and not giving up. I laugh as we recount our near misses with death and compliment each other and the roles we each played ridding this Cynas of Mogus.
Warmth moves through us as a bond that’s been missing, but desperately needed, starts to solidify. We’re not at odds with each other in this moment, and that’s rare for us. I send out a tendril of apology, and Pigeon sends me an image of her head butting against mine. I laugh and Pigeon does that funny chuffing purr sound.
“We’re a pretty good team when we want to be,” I point out, and the chuffing grows even louder.
We start to make our way back down to the destroyed forest floor, the rescue team now far off in the distance chasing down some stray Mogus.
I want to try and get Pigeon and me on the same page, but I’m not sure how to extend the hand of friendship. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and I don’t think that’s going to change just because we survived this clusterfuck together. I do want us to trust each other more, because like it or not, we’re stuck with each other, and we need to find a way that makes life work for both of us. Our talons and paws touch down in the dirt, and I open my mind to say exactly that to her.
A huge white gryphon slams down to the ground in front of us. Pigeon and I shield our face from the debris and dirt that flies up from the other animal’s impact. Concern and worry slam into us, and images of us almost being trampled and worry and loss flood my mind. I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, but when Pigeon and I look up and our eyes lock on the blue and purple stare of the gryphon in front of us, it’s like someone sparked a match and then lit our insides on fire.
A rushing burn flashes through me and Pigeon, and through the pain and shock of it, I recognize that this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Images of writhing on the ground after freeing Zeph in the woods streak through my mind. He said it was because of the rope I shredded, but I didn’t touch some magical rope this time. The brutal and familiar feeling sends me reeling, but I can’t make sense of anything when I hurt this bad.
Pigeon and I hold on to each other as we ride out the pain. We wrap our psyches in walls and defenses and hope we can come out of this like we did with Zeph and Ryn. Something niggles at the back of my mind as I think about Zeph and Ryn, but I can’t grasp it through the pain. Black spots impede our vision, and my initial reaction is to fight it. I don’t want to be knocked unconscious just to wake up in some new kind of nightmare. We have to stay aware, to stay alert. We have to protect ourselves.
Everything starts to get blurry and shaky. I whimper and try to fight against it. I want to stay awake. I plead with Pigeon to help me. I’m so fucking tired of being vulnerable and suffering because of it. She sends images of me wrapped up in her wings as she watches over me. Love and safety ripple through me, and it’s the last thing I feel before the darkness takes me against my will, and I have no choice but to succumb to it.
8
“We found evidence of a large camp in the mountains, but all that was left was the upturned ground in the now abandoned clearing. We were unable to find a gate, and there was no sign of a lone female or a black and white gryphon,” a lean male informs Zeph, who stares out past the opening in the room blankly.
“What are the Avowed doing in the Amaranthine Mountains? They’ve never hunted or shown much interest in the area before,” Zeph observes.
The lean male doesn’t answer, and it seems Zeph’s question is in fact rhetorical, because he doesn’t seem bothered by the silence.
“We did come across tracks for several net guns and discovered a deployed net that had washed ashore from the lake. It was impossible to tell what the tracks around the lake were from as they were old and disturbed, but we couldn’t identify any sign of big game having been caught. Maybe the Avowed were training, or maybe they were looking for something. It’s impossible to say at this time. Have you heard from Altern?” he asks cautiously.
“I have, just recently. He said that he’s found what we need but that he has to work out a new exit plan. It seems he’s bringing back some of the others embedded with the Avowed,” Zeph informs him.
“If the timetable we’ve set sticks, then that’s probably for the best,” the male responds.
Zeph gives him a nod and then a dismissive wave. The scout bows and then turns to exit the room. I lean against the wall, wondering what my subconscious is trying to tell
me with this dream. Is it trying to convince me that Zeph misses me or that he’s a threat?
“So you appear in the waking hours now too,” Zeph rumbles, turning to lock eyes with me. “Figures you would haunt me now like the others used to,” he comments, his golden stare running over me.
“Others?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.
Zeph sighs and leans his head back against the throne he’s seated in. “Yes, my mother used to come to me when I was younger. After my brother, Issak, died, I saw him for a while, and now there’s you.” Zeph’s breath catches, and worried honey-hued eyes land on mine again. “Does this mean you’re gone, little sparrow?” he asks, his voice choking on the fear that’s bleeding out of it.
I step away from the wall, lured closer by his panic and my need to chase it away. “I’m alive,” I reassure him, confused by what any of this is supposed to mean.
My mind is clearly fucking with me. Zeph is all hard edges and distrust. He’s none of the softness and melancholy I see in front of me right now. My subconscious has painted him with all the wrong emotions.
Relief fills his exhale, and he looks away, his gaze focused on something outside that only he can see. “Will you haunt me forever?” he questions quietly.
“I hope not,” I tell him. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to make of all of this, but I’m sure these dreams will stop when I put it all together,” I add as I trace the angle of his jaw and the curl in his hair with my eyes.
I jump when out of nowhere alarms start blaring. I slam my hands over my ears and watch as Zeph shoots out of his throne, the sad and lonely male replaced by a leader ready for whatever is coming. The tall black doors to the room are shoved open, and Loa comes charging in.
“Syta, the Avowed are advancing—”
A snarl fills the room, cutting her off, and I move closer to her before I even know what I’m doing. The threatening sound is pouring out of me unchecked, and I see Loa’s eyes widen with shock and fear as she turns to find me moving toward her.