“If I never see those evil berries again, it will be too soon, I don’t care how good a source of nutrition and vitamins they are.”
Cree leads me away from the tent, toward the surrounding tree line, and I realize where we are. I registered the reddish-purple dirt before, but not what it meant. “Are we in the Amaranthine Mountains?” I ask, just to be sure.
“We are. It seems Lazza was camped out between the two tallest peaks. We set up the medical tents here, and then food is that way.” She points off in the distance. “And they started setting up some residential tents over there,” she says, pointing in the opposite direction.
“Are they planning on staying out here?” I ask as we weave our way through the trees in the direction of the food area she just pointed out.
“The other Ouphe-mixed gryphons and I will stay here until it can be agreed upon where a new stronghold will be, that is if both sides can learn to accept us,” she tells me, a hint of hesitancy in her tone.
“What do you mean?”
“We were exiled from both sides, which is how we ended up settling near the Ouphe camp. Two unwanted races guarding each other’s flanks, it made sense at the time, but now we’ll see where our kind fits. We didn’t want the Vow, but we were too Ouphe gifted to find a place with the Hidden. Our gifts and how we look is a threat to both sides as well as a reminder of what we’ve been through.”
I nod, understanding what she’s saying, and she continues.
“The white hair and purple eyes are a trait that only Ouphe-Gryphon mixes get. Not all who look like us have abilities, but most do, and because of that, we don’t fit in either world. We’re not Ouphe enough for them or Gryphon enough for the other side.”
“But now we get to build a new way of life and doing things; I’m sure your people will find a place,” I reassure her, but I can see in the way she studies me for a beat that she doesn’t quite believe it.
“What about you, Bond Breaker, where will your place be in this new world?” she asks, and I sense a hint of something in her tone that I can’t quite place. Resignation maybe, stoicism?
I take a deep breath and let it out. I haven’t thought much about thewhat nowor tried to picture it. I figured it will take time to sort through the aftermath of everything, to figure out how to move forward as a people and exactly what that entails. I pretty much assumed I’d be along for the ride, supporting Treno and Zeph in any way I can as they try to bring two warring sides back together.
“I’m not sure exactly. I’ll be with my mates, I know that much. I used to be a mechanic in my old world, so maybe I’ll figure out a way to put those skills to good use, you know, keep busy as we all figure things out.”
Cree nods in thought, reaching up to pull a leaf down from a low hanging branch. She threads it between her fingers absently.
“Are you at all worried about your safety?” she asks evenly, and I’m surprised by the question.
“Do I need to be?” I ask, suddenly giving Cree the side-eye.
She smiles and holds her hands up. “I’m no threat to you, but you are the last Bond Wielder in this land; you have to have thought about how that will make people feel.”
I push a branch out of my way as we traverse through a thicker tree-filled part of the forest.
Damn, how far away is the food?
My stomach growls, the impatient sound punctuating my thoughts. Cree chuckles.
“It’s not too much further. We probably should have flown, but I didn’t know if you’d be up to it, and I like to walk,” she explains.
I think back to what she asked and her comment about me being the last person to possess Bond magic. I suspect that isn’t exactly the case, but that anyone with any kind of Bond magic is really good at hiding it. Saner comes to mind. She marked my neck with a supposed dead rune, and I didn’t give much thought to it at the time, but Lazza used that rune to pull me to him, and I’d bet my left boob that she was packing more Bond magic heat than she’d ever want people to know. I wonder for a moment about how many Bond users are in hiding.
“Word that you were the one to finally break the Vow will spread, and there will be Gryphons who are grateful, but there will also be Gryphons who see you for what you are,” Cree goes on, and her words call to an uneasiness in me.
“For what I am?” I question.
“Again, please know that I am not worried other thanforyou, but I think it wise to understand that the Gryphon people may not tolerate your presence. Those of us who know you will understand that you would never use your abilities against us. But there will be others who won’t care about that. All they’ll see is someone whocoulduse their abilities against them, if they wanted to,” she explains.
I trace the silhouettes of the tree trunks for a moment as I think through what she’s saying. She’s not wrong. I do need to think about this and the fact that I’m not going to be everyone’s favorite gryphon. Then again, who is? I want to be smart about my presence during this sensitive transition, and the guys and I need to talk about the best ways we can do that.
“I worry about the same thing for my people,” Cree hurries to elaborate, probably picking up on my discomfort. “Will there ever be trust? Will the threads that unite us as Gryphons always be fragile? We’re not to blame for our heritage or the Ouphe blood running through our veins, and yet I cannot blame the Gryphons for seeing a threat in me because of it either. It’s a difficult path to walk, not unlike this one,” she jokes as we navigate around a cluster of boulders.
Something about them looks familiar, which is a weird thing to think about a grouping of rocks. I stare at them for a beat longer, wondering where the déjà vu feeling is coming from, but when no answers appear, I let it go and focus on Cree’s points.
“Honestly, I don’t have the answers. I hope that with time, we can all find a way to work together, and that includes the Ouphe who are in hiding, but it won’t be easy, and it won’t be immediate,” I confess. “I can only do what I can to make people feel safe and secure, and the rest we’ll just have to deal with if or when it happens.”
I spot a clearing through the trees about ten feet in front of us, and my stomach tucks a napkin into its shirt, ready to go to town. Thoughts of duda fruit and the yummy rolls from the Eyrie fill my mind, and my mouth starts to water in anticipation.
