“These books are so boring.”
Tirgum glanced up from his own book. Across the living room of their Cloudsdale house, a nine-year-old Gilda was glaring in distaste at an old book in front of her.
Tirgum adjusted himself in his armchair, concern spreading across his face. “What’s wrong with it?”
The cub gave the older gryphon a sour look, which, on her exceptionally young face, didn’t look sour so much as amusing. “S’boring! There’s no fights or nothing, s’just two idiots making goo-goo eyes at each other.”
Tirgum got up and walked over to her table, tilting his head to read the title on the spine of her book. Romeo & Jintia.
He chuckled. Oh, lord, she probably got excited over the bloody dagger on the cover. “Well, Gilda, it gets more exciting towards the end.”
“How.” It was not a question so much as a surrender. Gilda stared at the book incredulously before closing it.
Tirgum patter her on the back. “Well, it’s almost time for bed anyway, kiddo.”
Immediately, Gilda’s attitude backpedaled. “But-but-but it’s only 8:30! If I read another book, can I stay up a teeny bit longer?” She pouted, looking at Tirgum with huge eyes.
Sneaky cub. “Which book?”
“Uhh...” Gilda trailed off, her eyes wandering before they settled on Tirgum with a hopeful smile. “Pre-Banishment Naval Strategies?”
Tirgum groaned. “Again? Gilda, you’ve read that whole thing at least three times by now.”
“Coz it’s the only good book!” Gilda pointed a claw at Romeo & Jitina. “All the rest of it is sappy emotions an’ stuff, or boring history, or boring plants!”
“Well, you’ll like those books a lot more when you’re older.”
“You keep saying that!” Gilda crossed her arms. “I’m not older yet, duh.”
Tirgum smiled. “You’re right, you’re not older yet. Which is why you should go to bed...?”
Gilda’s jaw dropped when she realized the corner she was in. “B-but, uh...”
“How about this,” Tirgum said, patting her on the back. “I’ll tell you a story, and then you go to bed. Would that be alright?”
Gilda nodded enthusiastically. Tirgum smiled at her. “Okay then. Let’s take a seat, huh? I’m not as young as you.”
Tirgum slowly walked over to the armchair again, with Gilda bounding at his heels. He settled himself into the seat, and Gilda scampered onto the arm, perching there and gazing at Tirgum with wide eyes.
“So, what story do you wanna hear?”
Gilda smiled. “Something cool!”
“Ah, but of course.” Tirgum scratched his chin. “Let’s see now... How about an old story from Old Talygyryph?”
Gilda wrinkled her nose. “Talygryph?”
“It’s the old name of the Gryphon Republic, Gilda.”
She smiled at the thought. “Oh! Okay.”
Tirgum settled into his chair, and grabbed an old book, ready to spin his tale. “Alright, then. This is the story of how gryphons came to be, as well as how we came to live in the country known as Talygryph.
“A long, long time ago...”
A long, long time ago, before any Republic or King or Princess, anywhere in the world, there was a large, barren, desert.
This desert of extended out in every direction as far as any of the creatures dared to go. In the summer it was hot as an oven, but in the winter, it was cold as ice.
Those who tried to leave the desert were never heard from again, and those who managed to return were always on the brink of death, want for water. In fact, the only water to be found in the desert was situated in a muddy pond, right in between three cactus trees. All of the creatures drank from it, and all of the creatures depended on it.
It was a miserable life, to be sure.
There were two creatures who set themselves apart from the others, merely by virtue of kindness and wisdom. Two creatures who, of all the creatures in the desert, were the only ones to let the smaller creatures drink first, instead of lunging for the water themselves.
A proud lion, and a great bird.
The Lion was one of the strongest creatures in the desert, and one of the most noble. He did his best to govern the others and create cooperation, but it was a fruitless effort. Yet still, he tried.
The Bird was the fastest and most agile creature in the desert, without equal, and also one of the wisest. The Bird used her cunning and guile to aid her friends and foil her foes.
Now, the Lion and the Bird-“
“Hang on,” Gilda interrupted Tirgum from her perch on the armchair, “What type of bird was it?”
Tirgum looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know, Gilda. It’s not really important, is it?”
“Was it an eagle?”
“...Probably.”
“Then why don’t they call her the Eagle?”
Tirgum rubbed his temple. “That’s a very very good question, Gilda. Perhaps it’s a hawk, instead. Or maybe no one knows.”
“What are people, stupid? That seems like important stuff to know.”
Tirgum frowned. “Gilda, don’t say that about others.” She shrank apologetically. Smiling again, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, let’s see. The Lion and the Bird...”
The Lion and the Bird were very close friends. They would often speak to one another over important matters, sharing thoughts and opinions.
Now, one day, the Lion and the Bird needed to make a very important decision.
It had been one of the coldest winters the desert had ever seen. The sky was white and cold, with a bleak, distant sun, that barely permeated the haze. Animals huddled together for warmth, and no one ventured far from the pond.
But, as the horrified creatures watched, the pond began to freeze overnight. Ice formed on the upper layer in a thin sheet, trapping the much-needed water below. There as a panic, and the animals almost went on a rampage.
The Bird, seeing this, sought out the help of the Lion.”Lion! Jump on the ice!”
Lion, knowing the wisdom of his friend, did so without hesitation. His weight broke the surface of the water, and he fell into the cold.
As soon as the icy water was exposed, the creatures leapt at it, drinking as fast as they could. They crowded all sides of the pond, preventing the Lion from climbing out. By the time he could force his way through, his coat was drenched, and he was shivering.
“This is g-g-going to be an is-s-s-sue,” he stammered.
Bird nodded. “We’re not even at the coldest month of the year, yet. If we don’t figure out something soon, the water will be freezing all the way to the bottom. No one will survive.”
The pair continued to discuss the issue, well into the rest of the frigid day. The sun was having trouble breaking through the cold white sky, but it fell into position directly above Bird and Lion.
They suddenly felt themselves become warm again. The Lion’s coat became dry, and the winter chill left them completely. After a moment’s confusion, they both looked up at the distant sun.
The sun began to speak.
- Travel west from the tallest cacti - Recall the flower with deep roots - Continue faithfully past the deep - Brave the wind and embrace the high -
The words resounded in their heads, ringing with an unearthly quality of music and command. The voice had come from nowhere, but they both knew of it’s origin.
Bird opened her beak. “How-?”
- You will lose all but what you love -
The final prophecy delivered, the unusual warmth left them, to be once again replaced by the biting cold.
Lion looked to Bird. “What was that?”
She shrugged her wings. “I don’t know. But I think... the sun just talked to us?”
“Can that even happen?”
“I don’t know.”
The stood in silence for a moment. Eventually, Lion spoke. “Bird, I do believe we should do what the sun says.”
Bird’s eye widened. “Why?! What would that do? It certainly seemed like instructions, true, but the first one alone was asking us to do the impossible. Risk our lives out west, without any water? And none of the other statements made any sense.”
Lion nodded. “You’re right. But, here, we receive miracle advice, from... who? A sun? We have little other choice.”
Bird flared out her wings for emphasis. “We will die!”
“Will we?” The Lion sighed. “We have nothing else to do, bird. I am not sure how, but we have to believe that we will find something.”
Bird sighed. “You’re right, we have to do something. But not this. We cannot go on a fruitless venture for a goal we do not even realize.”
Lion nodded, a sad look about his eyes. “Very well. I will go alone. You may continue to look for a solution without me. I-“ The Lion paused for a moment. “I will do my best to return.”
It was settled. Lion would depart the next day.
“So that was the princess?”
Tirgum looked up from the yellowed pages. “Hmm?”
Gilda pointed at the book. “The sun. That’s Princess Celestia, right? I mean, who else could do that stuff?”
Chuckling, Tirgum explained. “Well, I don’t know. But for years, our linguists have been trying to get proof that it isn’t Celestia on there.”
“Why? It totally is.”
“Historians try not to grant her any divine power, you see. They don’t want to admit she is as important as she would be, if that was her. But control of the sun and moon is kind of a hard thing to obfuscate.”
Gilda frowned. “So, is it her or isn’t it?”
Tirgum sighed. “Maybe.”
“See, you coulda just said that.”
Shaking his head, he returned to the story.
The next morning came, after a night colder than the last. The animals once again had to break the water of the pond, and it was decidedly more difficult than last time, the ice having formed into a thick sheet.
Of the three cacti surrounding the pond, the western one was the tallest. Lion stood there, and after taking a long drink, prepared himself for the journey.
Atop the cactus was a delicate purple flower. The Lion marveled at it, especially in the freezing cold. What wondrous things a little life can create, he thought.
He turned to the small crowd of fellow creatures, who had gathered to see him off. “I am departing, my friends,” he said. “To find a way to save us all. In the time I am gone, things will get worse. But, I must see them get better. This is why I have to leave.”
One of the creatures, a dog, called out. “Is Bird going with you?”
Sadly, the Lion shook his head. “No. Bird will remain behind, in an attempt to-“
“Wait!”
Lion, as well as the gathered creatures, looked up. Bird quickly descended from the sky, a determined look hardening her features. “I will be damned if I let you go alone,” she said, “and I will be damned to think you won’t come back.”
The Lion smiled. “Thank you, Bird.” Silently, he plucked the purple flower from the cactus, placing it in the crown feathers beside Bird’s eyes. “I knew I could count on you.”
Bird smiled back. “You can always count on me.”
They turned to face the crowd. “We’re off!” The shouted. “We will return with our salvation!” The statements were greeted with much fanfare.
Quickly, the pair determined due west, and set off across the dry earth.
Tirgum stopped reading for a moment, as the smaller gryphon (now having nestled herself in the crook of his arm, reading alongside him) fought back a yawn. “Getting tired, are we?”
Gilda shook her head furiously. “Nuh-uh! It was just getting good!”
He scratched her ears. “There’s still quite a bit left, Gilda. Are you sure?”
“I don’t have school tomorrow! And I can stay up late, really.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes.
“Alright then, just checking.”
Gilda hummed with delight, adjusting herself deeper into his arm. Chuckling, Tirgum continued.
As I have said, other animals had tried to brave the desert’s expanse before. None of them had returned, to be spied as dead heaps by Bird.
The pair walked for three long hours, with the biting wind at their faces. By this time, they were both panting.
“I told you,” Bird panted, as she trudged along the ground, “this is the first problem anyone ever encounters, leaving the desert. There’s no water anywhere!”
“I know about that problem.” Lion was quite larger than Bird, and as such could brave the cold much longer. “How far have we gone?”
Bird thought for a moment, thinking on their time and walking speed. “I would guess? Fifteen or so miles.”
Lion gave a weak smile. “That’s wonderful! Pretty far, considering we don’t have any water.”
Bird rolled her eyes.
“Are we still going west?”
That question, she was quick to answer. “Yes. This breeze always comes from directly west, for some reason. I can assure you, we’re on the right track, whatever that is.”
“Well, no time to lose.” Lion struggled another paw forward, and continued his lumbering gait. Bird shook herself awake, then continued after him.
They walked for hours and hours, with no end to the flat landscape in sight. The pair felt the cold in their bones, as they continually gasped for water. Bird, more so than Lion, whose warmth shielded him a slight bit more.
Neither spoke, as they continued through the desert. They had long ago passed the furthest distance ever passed by any creature.
Finally, in the distance, Bird spied something. “Lion, what is that?”
Lion looked. “I don’t see anything, Bird. What is it?”
Bird cocked her head in confusion. “A... cactus?”
As they continued, the exhausted pair found themselves beside a cactus, jut like the ones at their home. It stood as tall as Lion, and another purple flower sprouted from it, akin to the one in Bird’s feathers.
Bird looked at it curiously, as she barely managed to stay on her feet. “What is this doing all the way out here...?”
Lion, however, was not so patient. “A cactus?! A single damned cactus?! A cactus will not save our lives!” He roared, indignant. “Blasted sun! You mock me with your trivialities!”
Bird didn’t say anything. Now that they had stopped walking, her immense exhaustion had caught up with her. “F-f-flower...”
She collapsed, her wings sticking out, breathing heavily.
Lion turned to look at her. “Bird!” He leapt around the cactus, worried for his friend.
Bird was breathing heavily, the cold taking it’s toll on her body. Lion used his paws and held her close to his chest, trying to keep her warm. “Oh, Bird, Bird, I’m so so sorry. Bird, please, stay awake.”
“R-r-recall...”
Lion looked her in the eye. “Bird...?”
She coughed, then answered. “R-recall the f-f-flower w-...” She trailed off, passing out.
“...with deep roots,” Lion finished. “The sun’s prophecy? How does that mean anything?”
Bird did not answer. Lion panicked. “Bird!”
She did not respond.
Lion glared at the flower on the cactus, bouncing his gaze between it and the flat desert landscape. “Recall... the flower...?” he muttered, thinking.
His eyes rested on the flower atop the lone cactus. It’s purple petals swirled to it’s base, identical to the one he gave Bird.
Recall the flower-
He looked at Bird’s flower, resting in her crown feathers. Realization dawned on him as his mouth fell open.
-with deep roots.
“Water!” He jumped at the cactus, leaving Bird gently on the ground. With a mighty heave, he pushed over the desert plant, pulling it out of the ground and leaving it on it’s side.
He looked down at the exposed roots of the plant. Furiously, he began to dig.
As Tirgum read, Gilda was smiling like an idiot. Finally, she let out a high-pitched noise of excitement. “Eeeeee-!”
Tirgum glanced down at her. “You alright?”
She immediately resumed her countenance. “Y-yeah, I’m just happy he finally figured it out, is all.”
“Oh? And did you figure it out earlier?”
“It wasn’t that hard! I mean, the thing said you had to dig, and what else could be under a plant but water.”
Tirgum nodded. “Alright then. What’s the rest of it about?”
“I dunno.”
The elder gryphon rolled his eyes, and continued reading.
After digging a massive trench in the earth, as fast as he could, the Lion came upon dirt that was damp, and finally, dirt that was wet. Exhausted, he scooped out one last massive pawful of dirt, straight down.
His effort was rewarded with a small pool of water, forming in the gash. It was muddy, but it was water. Lion plunged his face into it, drinking as much as he could.
Refreshed, he dug another hole, this time larger. Once he was satisfied, he clambered out of the trench, then carried Bird down into it.
Still unable to wake her, Lion dipped the side of Bird’s head into the pool, praying for a miracle.
The cool water splashed on Bird’s face, and she groaned. Abruptly, she jumped to her feet and plunged her head into the pool, drinking greedily. Lion sighed, and sat down, thankful that such a crisis had been averted.
After she had finished drinking, Bird straightened herself, glancing around. “Nice hole.”
Lion chuckled. “Thanks. I dug it myself.”
“Liar.” bird grinned. “So you figured it out?”
“Thanks to you, yes.”
Bird nodded. “Well, now we know that the sun’s prophecy wasn’t just hot air. What was next?”
Lion thought for a moment. “Continue faithfully past the deep - Brave the wind and embrace the high.”
Bird digested this for a moment. “Well, I can’t think of what that means, yet. But we should look out for “the deep”.
“Well, the deep isn’t going to come to us.” Lion got to his paws. “Let’s get going.”
They each drank as much water as they could hold, then continued onwards through the cold desert. The day was almost over, and the sun was dipping under the horizon, far to their left.
They walked for several hours more, until something appeared before them. From a distance, it looked like a line, drawn across the ground.
It took almost another two hours to walk towards the line. As the pair came to it, they realized the line was nothing but a great canyon.
They walked straight up to the lip of the canyon, cautiously peering down. The sheer walls descended into darkness.
“Well,” said Lion, “At least now we know what ‘the deep’ is.” He turned to Bird. “How are we going to cross this?”
Bird peered to the other side, dozens of feet in front of them. “Well, I could fly across, easily enough. But I don’t know about you.”
Lion eyes the canyon. “If it were not but ten feet shorter, I could make the jump. But alas, it is not.”
Bird rubbed her chin. “Hmm... It would be possible, I supposed, to pour all of my strength into flying, for a short time, and carry you across.” she sighed. “But I would not risk your life as such.”
Lion smiled. “Ah, butI would. You do not have to worry about me.”
She panicked. “But what if I drop you?!”
“You will not.”
Bird hesitated. “I am not so sure.”
Lion nuzzled Bird, who returned the gesture gratefully. “Continue faithfully past the deep, remember? I think you can hold me.”
Trembling, Bird nodded. “O-okay, Lion. If you say so.”
Bird clambered onto Lion’s back, holding fast with her claws onto the scruff of Lion’s neck. He turned his head and smiled back at her, confident. “You can do this. Get ready!”
With a mighty roar, Lion backed up, and ran full-speed towards the canyon’s edge. He leapt off as hard as he could, launching himself out over the yawning chasm.
Bird extended her wings, feeling the air underneath them as they rose. The pair sailed forward, hurtling towards the other side. They were almost there.
But not quite. Before Lion’s paws could touch the far end of the canyon, they began to descend, flying towards the inner face of the far wall.
Seeing her moment, Bird pushed her wings down once, pouring all of her strength into this one, mighty beat. She could feel in them the weight of herself and her friend, the weight of their lives.
The wingbeat did the trick, and Lion sailed straight forward for an instant more. His front paws grabbed hold of edge, and clambered onto the solid surface, rising shakily to his feet.
“Hang on, hang on.”
Tirgum looked down to the young Gilda, as she once again interrupted the story. “You know, if you keep interrupting me, we’ll never be able to finish this.”
She waved a hand. “Yeah, whatever. There’s no way that could work. Flying doesn’t work like that! You can’t just ‘put all your energy into one move’. It’s about wingspan or something.”
Tirgum lay a hand on her shoulder. “Well, the whole thing is largely allegorical. It’s more meant to convey a message then tell the facts.”
She shot him a childishly angry look. “Wait, so this whole thing is made up?”
“Well, not the whole thing. Just pay attention you’ll understand what I mean.”
Bird was still clinging to his back. “W-we made it! Lion, we made it!”
“I knew you could do it, Bird.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Lion. Thanks for believing in me.”
Lion nodded. “But we still have a ways to go yet, my friend. Thank me then.”
Bird smiled. “It’s going to be dark soon. We should-“ Suddenly she stumbled, slurring her words and moaning.
“Bird!” Lion steadied her with one paw, looking at her, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I-I-I’m...” she shuddered. “It’s very cold.”
Lion turned, shielding her from the biting wind. “I think it’s more than that, Bird. You strained yourself too much, passing that canyon.”
She chuckled. “Nonsense. I had t-to get you across...”
“We could have found another way. I never should have let you harm yourself in such a way.” Lion clenched his teeth. “We only have two more pieces of the sun’s prophecy left.”
Bird attempted to struggle to her feet. “Let’s g-g-go, then.”
“Hang on.” Lion deftly lifted her onto his back. “I will of course carry you.”
Dumbfounded and grateful, Bird silently grabbed his mane, burying her face away from the biting cold air.
Lion began the steady journey forward, maintaining a steady trot as the day winded down. Bird clung to his back, fighting off the cold, winter air.
The wind from the West was harder, now. The walk against it was a constant struggle, and it decreased the temperature significantly.
The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds thick, when Lion could finally make something out through the haze. He peered his eyes, but nothing came forth.
Shrugging, Lion walked a bit further. Then, very abruptly, he found himself at the foot of a sheer stone mound, and barraged with an endless gust of wind.
He glanced up. Before him was a massive mountain, rising up into the air. The sun’s light was, by now, barely lighting the sky, but it was enough to illuminate the immense mountain range that stood before him.
He nudged Bird with a paw. “Bird, wake up.”
Gently, harshly, Bird stirred from Lion’s back. “What’s happening.”
“Bird, this is important.” Lion turned himself to face her towards the mountains. “We’ve got something in our way, and this we can’t jump over.”
Bird looked at the mountain face, feeling the intense wind and despairing. “Oh, Lion...” The mountain is steep, she thought, but not too steep to climb.
She turned a worried head towards her friend. But it would surely kill him. He is as thirsty as I by now, this wind cannot aide him, and the cold will only get worse. “You are right, Lion. It’s nearly impossible to climb this. But we can’t go around them, either! This mountain range must go for hundreds of miles in either direction.”
Lion rubbed his temples, thinking. “What were the final parts of the prophecy? We have to be missing something.”
Dutifully, Bird recited. “Brave the wind and embrace the high-“
“Of course.” Lion interrupted, bitterly. “It can mean nothing else.”
Bird looked at him with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Lion. I-I can’t make it up on my own.” She sighed. “You should just leave me.”
“What?!” Lion roared. “No! Why would I ever do that?”
Bird glanced downwards. “You could. I would only be waiting here, until you came back for the others, with whatever it is that the sun thinks is going to save us.”
“That is a lie and you know it.” Lion secured her tightly onto his back. “If I leave you here, you will die, Bird. I care about you too much to let anything happen to you, do you hear?”
Bird smiled, weakly yet genuinely, clutching to his mane. “I l-love you, Lion.”
“And I you, Bird.” Lion’s thoughts drifted to the last part of the prophecy, and his heart was filled with dread. “Come on, now, let’s go.”
Steadily, slowly, surely, he began his long ascent up the windy mountains, with Bird clinging to his back.
“Nooo!!!” Gilda cried.
Tirgum, who had not been expecting any reaction of the sort, jumped a little in his chair. “Ah! What?!”
Gilda snatched the book from his hands, and closed it firmly. “Oh I just know Bird’s gonna die an I don’t think she should an they just finally said they loved each other an the sun said so an the sun’s never wrong about nothing ever an-“
“Hey hey hey,” Tirgum calmed the poor girl, who was close to tears. “Relax, kiddo. It’s only a story.”
Gilda sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “But they’re gonna die an-“
Tirgum swept her into a large hug. “They’re not going to die, little cub.”
She looked up at him. “B-but the sun said-“
“You will lose all but what you love.” Tirgum repeated. “Does that sound like Bird is going to die?”
Gilda shrugged, still teary. “I guess not.”
Tirgum sighed. “You’re going to bed as soon as we finish this story. You should have been there half an hour ago.”
As Bird clutched to his back, Lion slowly braved his way up the fearsome peak. The ceaseless wind fought his every step, bringing in a chilling cold that seeped in to his very bones.
He passed many rocks and spires, on his way to the top, but he could never see the peak. No matter how far ahead he looked, the cold blowing wind and snow wouldn’t let him see further ahead than ten yards.
To help his will, he spoke to Bird. “Don’t worry, Bird,” he said. “We’ll make it. Just a bit longer. You’ll see.” He repeated it like a mantra.
As he walked, thoughts of doubt began to seep into his mind. Why am I doing this. He cringed, realizing the futility of his actions. To reach the top of a peak? To bring Bird to her death?
He thought of the sun’s prophecy. You will lose all but what you love. Furrowing his brow, he thought logically.
Well, what is it I love? Immediately, his thoughts turned to his friend, upon his back. Bird. Easy. Okay, what is everything else?
Lion didn’t own anything, none of the creatures of the desert did. Perhaps the others? It would be sad to lose them, but he had a feeling the words were more... meaningful than that.
He trudged through endless wastes of rock and snow, always climbing, always ascending. Up and up and up. the whole way through, speaking to Bird, voicing his mind. Her presence gave him comfort, and the will to move on.
Eventually, at long last, Lion could perceive the top of the peak. Excited, he began to move faster, lifting his paws and quickening his step, to reach the rocky top.
But, as he approached, he slowed down. The top was before him, but as he slowly approached it, his heart filled with dread.
He set his foot on the miniature plateau, atop the peak of the mountain. He looked around him. Throughout the fog, there was nothing to be seen.
He gazed with dread at the path down the other side. Only, there was no path. No open space, to walk through. Sharp rocks littered the area, rendering it impassable.
“No.... No no no no no...” He turned around, trying to look in all directions at once. “No no no no no no!”
Hearing his voice, Bird stirred from her position on his back. “L-Lion? Did we m-make it?”
Lion let out a cry of anguish. “Yes! But, Bird... there’s nothing here!”
Bird wearily lifted her head, looking around her. She was greeted with the sight of nothing, and endless waster of snow and haze, extending into the air. “O-oh, d-dear...”
“We came all this way for.... nothing! For snow! Rocks!” Tears were seeping from Lion’s eyes, freezing onto his face. “I’ve killed us, Bird! I’ve killed you. I’ve failed our friends and I’ve failed you.”
On his back, she said nothing. She gripped him tightly, consoling, and closed her eyes again. “I love you,” she whispered.
But Lion would not be consoled. “I’ve lost us everything!”
At that moment, a light shined on them from the West. Their bodies, once cold and numb from the air, became warm again, and the frost left their skin. Just as it had before, in the desert by the pond, the sun shone through the haze in the sky.
And it spoke to them.
- You have braved the trials of faith - Your love for each other you sing - Lead your fellows to salvation - You shall rule this land as it’s king -
As the sun spoke, the clouds parted, and Bird and Lion could see the land below, illuminated with a golden light.
Fields of green. Endless, rolling, beautiful. Rivers ran down from the surrounding mountains, and within the vast, lush expanse, straggling peaks shot out of the ground, capped with snow. Lakes.
And in the distance, they could make out a shimmering horizon. The Sea.
Once again awake and moving, Bird hopped off of Lion’s back, and hugged him tight. “We made it, Lion! We’ve saved our people!”
Lion was gazing out at the beautiful expanse, star-struck. “We... we have. We can bring the other creatures here, a-and make a new lives for ourselves!” He hugged her tightly, jumping for joy. “Look at all those plants! We’ll never go hungry!”
As they rejoiced, the sun, as it sank in the distance, glowed more brightly than it ever had before. Swept up in the intensity of the light, the pair let go of each other to shield their eyes, as a more intense warmth overtook them. The sun bestowed its final gift.
As the light parted, Lion and Bird returned to their vision as new beings. The same creature, a creature of the Wisdom of Bird, and the Strength of Lion.
The-
“Gryphons!” Gilda squealed, bouncing in her bed, giddy. “They both became gryphons and now they can kiss and fly together and stuff!”
Tirgum nodded. “I didn’t know you liked that mushy, goo-goo eyes stuff, Gilda.”
Immediately on the defensive, Gilda crossed her arms. “Well, not now. Adults seem to like it alot.”
Tirgum just chuckled. “As I was saying...”
The Gryphon was born.
From across the Sea, setting in the West, the sun warmed them, then dipped below the horizon. As the light faded, the skies remained clear, and thousands of stars swarmed through the sky, more bright and beautiful than any summer night in the desert.
As the last vestiges of Twilight lowered from the sky, the newmade gryphons inspected themselves. Lion brought his hand to his face, bewildered. “I-I’ve got a beak!” He noticed the hands, touching the beak. “And talons!” Rapidly, he craned his head around to his back. “And wings!”
Bird was having a similar experience. “I’ve got four legs!” she cried. “And this... tail! It’s so long...”
They spied each other, agape at the transformation. They were together in an instant, comparing and hugging.
Bird giggled. “You’ve got wings, Lion.”
Lion smirked. “Your wings got bigger, Bird.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, yes! Look at that, they’re huge!” She fanned them out, appreciatively. “We could make the flight back to the pond in less than an hour, with these things!”
And so they did. They returned to the pond, in the same night, carrying news of their salvation. The creatures of the desert recognized their friends, however altered, and followed them to the mountains, and the verdant land behind it.
And so it was that the King Futhark the First the First of Talygryph, and his queen the Bird, came to rule the new nation in peace. Each of the creatures lived long and happy lives in the new kingdom, and the children of the new gryphons came to be it’s people.
The End.
Tirgum gently closed the book, then looked at Gilda.
Contrary to popular belief, stories do not always put children to bed. In fact, stories tend to keep them up longer. Such as it was with Gilda.
“So that’s it?”
Tirgum shrugged. “That’s it. You didn’t like it?”
Gilda fiddled with her covers. “No, no, I liked it. It was a lot better than I expected it to be.”
The elder gryphon pursed his beak a bit at the comment, but chose to ignore it. “But...?”
“But it seems too... easy. Like, sure, they had to walk through a desert in the cold. But for one day. And also, in that day, he climbed a whole mountain?”
Tirgum patted her shoulder. “Well, I did say it was more of an allegory than an actual account, though there’s bits of each.” He smiled at her. “What did you learn, from each bit of the sun’s prophecy?”
Gilda scratched her beak for a moment, thinking. “Well, the part with the cactus was, like, about keeping your eyes open. Kinda obvious.”
Tirgum nodded. “And the gorge?”
“I dunno. Either think practically, cause Bird shouldn’ta pushed herself that much, or be prepared to sacrifice yourself for others.” Gilda stared forward, thinking about the hefty lesson.
Nodding, Tirgum continued. “Alright, and the-“
“Hope, I think.” Gilda interrupted, knowing what her guardian was about to say. “On the mountain, I mean. Like, cause, he knew he wasn’t gonna make it up there? It was kinda stupid to think he could. But, he knew there was nothing else to do, and it was his only choice. So, he chose to hope, and things worked out.”
Tirgum looked at her for a moment, then let out a long, heavy sigh. “You’re a very smart little cub, you know that?”
“If I’m already so smart, do I hafta go to school?”
Tirgum chuckled, then tucked her in, (without an answer to her question) and got up to leave the room. Before he could turn off the light, however, Gilda spoke again. “If that book was alle-mori-gul, then what really happened?”
Tirgum didn’t speak, for a moment. His thoughts wandered to another book, within his study. A much older, much more accurate book. At least, moreso than the children’s tale he had recited.
But he knew the lessons that book would teach. Perhaps when she’s older.
“I don’t know, little cub.” He flicked his talon, and the light was off. “Sweet dreams.”
He left, and gently closed the door. A few minutes later, little Gilda was asleep.
Tirgum didn’t sleep. The old gryphon stayed up all the night, waiting to watch the sun rise in the morning.
