The adult griffin hissed at Rogue, who flattened his ears a little and lay down at Luke’s feet.
“Actually,” Inga added, “if we go fishing later today and catch anything, I bet giving them any scraps we don’t want would be a sure-fire way to make a friend for life. If you actually want them following you around, that is.” The baby griffins had noticed her and set up a chorus of chirping, beaks wide. “That’s the mistake I made.”
“They’re cute, though.” Luke pursed his lips and made a credible imitation of the baby griffins’ chirping, which made the adult cock its head to one side, and the babies fell silent before launching into a wild flurry of chirping and squawking.
The other adult came swooping in with a fish, which distracted the whole nest once more. When they could talk over the noise, Luke said, “Do they have names?”
“I haven’t given them any.” Inga frowned at the nest. “I really wasn’t planning on this. They’re stowaways.”
“Technically, I sort of am, too.”
Inga made a be-my-guest gesture toward the griffin nest. “If you want to name them, feel free. I’m terrible at naming things. Remember, the boat that got lost was called the Dingboat.”
Luke laughed. “Maybe youshouldname them.”
“No, seriously, if you leave it to me they’re going to be Idiots One through Four.”
“Which is Idiot One?”
Just then one of the babies overbalanced in the act of fighting with its sibling, and fell off the rock on which it was currently perching onto its head. Completely unhurt, it rolled over and squawked as if it thought this was the universe’s fault.
“That one,” Inga said.
Luke laughed again, and she was beginning to realize that she loved listening to him laugh. He seemed a little lighter this morning, as if talking about his problems last night had relieved the burden somewhat.
“We need a name theme,” he said. “What’s something famous there are four of?”
“Beatles?”
“John, Paul, George and ... no, I might be able to call one of them Ringo, but I don’t think I can seriously go around referring to a ball of squawking fluff as John. Anyway, some of them might be girls.”
“Stooges?”
“Inga, there are very famously three of those.”
“No, there’s another one. Harpo, Chico, Groucho, and, uh?—”
“Those are the Marx brothers. The Stooges are Larry, Moe, and Curly.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right.”
“Anyway, there are five Marx brothers, I think, though I can’t remember the others off the top of my head. What’s something that comes in fours?”
“Seasons?” Inga suggested. “Suits of cards? Er—Four Tops?” She was rapidly running out of ideas. “See, this is why I don’t name things.”
“I guess it doesn’t have to be four, as long as it’s a general theme. What do you think of spices?” Luke pointed at a baby griffin that was rubbing its head against its parent’s fur. “That one looks sweet, so that’ll be Sugar. The rest are, um, Cinnamon,Nutmeg, and—some other spice. And the parents are Salt and Pepper.”
“I don’t think Sugar is a spice, technically, but it’s cute so I’ll accept it.” Inga giggled. “Some other spice?”
“I ran out of spices I know the names of. What are other ones?”
She thought back to holiday baking. “Allspice? Cloves?” Luke looked dubious. “Oregano? Basil? Uh—curry?”
“Basil is the only one of those that sounds like a name. Basil it is.”
The newly named Spice Griffins—asInga immediately started calling them—followed them around throughout the morning whenever they were in the vicinity. The babies were big enough to toddle around, as she’d found all too well when she was trying to transport them, and didn’t seem to mind being picked up. Inga introduced one of them cautiously to Rogue, and relaxed when the big dog merely christened it with a swipe of his tongue. One of the parents was usually around at all times, watching the babies (and the people) from the top of a nearby rock or bush, and occasionally hissing at the dog.
After a quick breakfast of oatmeal, shared with Rogue, Inga suggested spending some time doing maintenance on the cabin. Luke turned out to be a quick study and a good worker, capable and smart. He could work on his own or take directions with equal good nature. They nailed down some loose boards, insulated a few gaps, and redid the weatherstripping on the cabin’s window. Luke worked on roof repairs while Inga did some much-needed tidying of the shelves, sweeping off dust and checking for any signs of mice or other small creatures. Therewere none; even with the accumulated damage of a couple of years’ neglect, the cabin was snug and well built.
