The Griffin's Flight by K.J. Taylor Page B

mornings, when thick mist obscured the view, he would venture out onto the balcony and enjoy the feeling of the wind on his face, hearing nothing but the soft clinking of the bone wind chimes he had bought in the market district. Eluna would be there with him, too, saying nothing, maybe running the tip of her beak through the feathery rudder on the end of her tail to straighten the plumes.
    Arren closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of Eluna for a long time, but she was in his head now. He remembered her so clearly, too clearly, but somehow when he thought of her, he couldn’t make the image of her in his mind stay still. It was always moving, wavering, as if it were about to fade, and every time he concentrated on it an image of Skandar would flash across his consciousness, as if to remind him of the white griffin’s fate.
    He forced his eyes open again, and shivered. He missed Eluna, and yet he missed Skandar, too. Just as he missed everyone he had known in his old life. Bran, his best friend, and Gern, who had died, and Flell, Flell whom he had loved, Flell who had abandoned him, Flell …
    He thought of her, feeling a sickness inside him. Flell, I’m sorry. I’m sorry . He had tried so hard to forget her face as he had last seen it, full of terrible shock. It was futile.
    Misery was starting to overcome his senses. He struggled to get a grip on himself. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about her. Make yourself forget it .
    He thought of Skade instead. She was beautiful. The idea crossed his mind before he could squash it, and he instantly felt disgusted with himself. Flell is pretty, he told himself sternly. She’s human. With her fine brown hair and blue eyes, and the way she—no, don’t think about her. Think of Skade .
    Skade was beautiful. He sighed and let himself admit it. She looked odd, but there was something about her that he found attractive regardless. Perhaps it was her ferocity. She was courageous. Yes, that was a safer thought. She had recognised him as the murderer he was, but where another person might have fled or pretended to be oblivious, she had dared to confront him, when she was weak and starved, holding a sword she could barely lift, let alone use. True, she had waited until Skandar was gone, but for all she knew, Arren was a dangerous lunatic who might try to kill her, too. And yet she had faced him anyway. She had challenged him. She had not shied away; she had not betrayed fear. And her golden eyes, the way they seemed to burn from within, the way the light caught her hair …
    Arren tangled his fingers in his own hair and wrenched at it until it hurt, gritting his teeth savagely. “Stop it, stop it, stop it !”
    Well, it doesn’t matter, he thought, trying to calm himself down. Skade was his friend now, and he would help her and protect her as far as he could. If need be, he would starve himself rather than let her die. She deserved more than he did to live, and for her sake he would just have to do his best to act normally. If she knew what he was feeling—
    No. I’m not feeling anything. It’s just a few ridiculous thoughts. She’s a bloody griffin, you sick bastard! What’s wrong with you?
    Actually, she’s not a griffin, a treacherous inner voice whispered. Not any more .
    Arren shut it out and shambled off to find some more wood. Luckily there were plenty of fallen branches in the area, and it hadn’t rained again since he had pulled Skade out of the pond, so they were dry enough. He gathered an armload and carried it back to the camp, where he carefully restocked the guttering fire. Once it was burning strongly again, he went to gather some more wood to pile beside it. It would be sunset fairly soon, and they couldn’t afford to run out of fuel while it was dark.
    Once he had done that, he relented and took a chunk of smoked meat from the bark-wrapped bundle that hung from a nearby tree. He’d eat this much for now and hope it would be enough.
    As he was impaling it