“You’ll find money inside, and there’s a bus schedule,” Lirin said. “Do you know how to use those?”
“Yes,” Cela said shortly. She had read about money in books, and she vaguely recalled what a bus might be.
Lirin looked a bit dubious, but she said, “You’re going to go down the hill, where there’s a road—you know about those?” Cela nodded. “You’ll find a plastic shelter with benches. Wait there until a bus comes along, and give the driver some money, and tell them to take you to ...” She hesitated.
Cela was hanging on her every word. “To where?”
Lirin gave her head a short shake, as if breaking throughsome barrier within herself. “My brother Tyr lives in a town called Autumn Grove, where he uses the human name Terry Raines. No griffins will help you when they see your exile-marked tattoo ... but I think Tyr might.”
“Autumn Grove,” Cela repeated, clinging to that thin thread of hope. “Terry Raines.”
There was a fluttering of wings overhead. Lirin’s male partner appeared out of the rain. He banked and wheeled impatiently above them.
“I have to go.” Lirin raised the hood of her cloak. “I’m sorry I can’t help more.”
With that, she shifted and leaped into the air.
The rain was coming down even harder now. Cela stood, looking up as the downpour sheeted off her poncho, watching the two soaring griffins until they vanished among the low clouds.
Then, jiggling the babies to soothe them, she began the slow, cold walk down the hill.
She found the shelter just as Lirin had said. It made sense; from what she understood, this was where most young griffins on walkabout started out. The bench was made of thin planks of some rugged, dark material, scratched and old, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale cigarettes and trash. The plastic shelter was open on the front, so it did a poor job of keeping the rain off entirely.
But the bench was dry enough to sit on. She sat down with a little sigh, and reached under her poncho, opening her blouse to free her breasts so that the babies could latch on.
As she’d hoped, this calmed them down. Ayra—back in owlet form—made a few attempts to nurse with a beak, and Cela firmly rebuffed her until she shifted back to a baby girl again.
Her babies were seven months old, and she hadn’t yetstopped being captivated by them, from the little curls of soft fuzz on their heads, to their tiny fingers and toes.
“You are worth everything,” she whispered as they nursed.
That was something she would also have to deal with. She could not easily provide nourishment for two babies all by herself. But this world definitely had baby formula and food for babies; she did know that much.
The babies fell asleep in their carrier. With nothing better to do except sit here feeling sad and damp and sorry for herself, Cela opened the package Lirin had pushed on her.
Beneath the plastic, she recognized the wrapping immediately. It was a blue and silver scarf, formerly her favorite, in Covert Silvershell’s colors and given to her as a gift by her mate. Now she felt nothing but disgust at the sight of it. Unwrapping it from the rest, she dropped it on the muddy floor of the bus shelter. Someone else could have it, if they wanted.
As Lirin had said, there was money in the package. Cela thumbed through it. She recognized the general look of it, but she had no idea how much it was or what she could trade it for. Well, she would need to figure that out.
There were also some papers. Glancing at them, she saw her name and Kav’s. Gradually it dawned on her that this was paperwork for the human world, labeling her as Kav’s wife.
How dare you!
She crumpled those papers, then tore them to bits, working carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping babies rather than fully venting her fury. Dropping them on the floor of the bus shelter, she trampled them firmly with one muddy shoe, grinding them into the rain-soaked ground and ruining them along with the scarf.
There was also a folded brochure which she glanced at, saw incomprehensible lists of numbers, and put in hershoulder bag with the money. That was probably the bus schedule, but it told her nothing she didn’t already know, which was that she needed to sit here until the bus came.
Finally, the package contained some sandwiches and cookies. Cela had no idea if that was part of the standard griffin walkabout supplies or not. She resisted the urge to feel grateful that they had deigned to give her food. It wouldn’t last for long.
And that was it. Everything she had to start a new life.
She leaned her head against the side of the bus shelter and rocked the babies until a distant pair of lights approached, along with a growling sound.
Cela knew about cars and buses from books, and she knew about engines from watching boats pass Griffin Island, as well as from the handful of vehicles on the island itself. She stood up, covering the babies with her poncho. She wasn’t sure if she ought to wave or something. But the bus pulled up and stopped without her having to do anything, and the doors opened for her.
At least one thing was going right on this terrible night. Cela looked the bus up and down. There was no one else on it except a female driver who looked at her with a kind expression. Taking a deep breath, she climbed up the steps and offered some of the pieces of paper from the packet Lirin had given her.
“I don’t know how much this costs. Can you tell me?”
