Ok, this is my first one-shot ever, my first attempt at second person pov in a while, my first and only completed story here. Bear with me on any mistakes. Now, the griffin was an important character in Squire but after that it disappeared. At least Lalasa came back from time to time. The griffon just fell off the map. Because of that and the lack of griffon stories in this archive I wrote this. It's pretty much brain vomit but it just wouldn't stop. Hopefully, it's not too rough. Tell me what you think.
Three years. Short by human standards. Infinitesimal by immortals standards. Yet here you are. Strong, wild, and nearly grown. You still have some of your orange hatchling feathers but your wings are long and swift and your cries shout a challenge to the world. But war and death is not what you wish for today. Today you seek the one who made you into what you are. An abomination among your own kind. One who helps the humans. One who craves the sound of one mortal's voice. One that considers a human your family.
Through the bond you share with her you know she is well. A bond you made by accident. When you first saw her you were covered in small scratches and you quickly created scratches of your own on her. Some of you blood mixed with hers and you certainly tasted enough as you often tried to bite that hand. Your bond was made by blood. It is why you seek her now. You refuse to lose any more family.
Your mother and father are dead. Killed in an attack by a desperate mage. The mage tried to steal your family's new egg and your father attacked. As your mother flew in to help your father the mage completed one last spell killing your parents but also killing himself in the process. Your cries echoed through the valley as you mourned your family. They became even wilder when you realized the chick in the egg had ceased life as well. You were alone. Now you have hope. Now you will protect the last you consider as kin.
You still remember her. Her characteristics are burned into your memory. Her voice was steady and calming as the sound of the sea unlike the shrill voices of other females of her kind. Her scent was masked sometimes by steel, leather, and sweat but underneath that was the scent of the forest at night. Refreshing and soothing, her scent was a breath of fresh air among all those stuffy and potent smelling mortals.
Now you fly south to the forests you traveled in three years ago. As you fly you catch just a whiff of the scent you seek. Truly an old scent but laced with fear. You land next to the river and breathe in deeply. She was here once. You can smell her scent again as she passed through again wounded and exhausted but alive. You wonder sometimes how mortals live without being able to truly see and experience their surroundings. You feel her though your bond again. She is safe and content. But now you are curious. You know she is never to cross this river. Boundaries are human concept that you loathe to understand and yet you know the punishment of crossing is death. Why did she? She will be safe for the time it takes for you to understand and you take to the air again.
You pump your wings as you follow the old scent through the forbidden lands. Her scent changes from time to time and you know she wouldn't be foolish enough to cross alone but any scent other than hers has faded over time. It is your bond alone that enables you to still track her scent at all. You reach an open area where her scent is slightly stronger and more determined. She fought here. But she was not wounded. Her scent is spiked with fear and you can tell she traveled faster from here on. Again you come to a place where her scent grows stronger but grows desperate. You wonder why. You remember her as strong, unmovable. What could cause her such torment? You land seeking any signs that might answer your queries.
There. By the tree-line, a small doll. All but destroyed over time. A misshapen thing that more resembles an ogre than a true human but it confirms your thoughts. She was always protecting those who could not defend themselves. Someone hurt or took one of her chicks. Not even the Ganiel, the Dream King, can create nightmares that can match a mother defending her young. And all in care were her young. Her trespass explained, you take to the skies to find the end of her journey into this treacherous land. You reach the end of her trail quickly. Flying over a small village, you see people working in the shadow of a stone nest. A castle, you remember they are called. The village smells only faintly of her and impatience. It is the castle that attracts you.
Descending into the courtyard, you notice human guards reaching for weapons but you sense no threat in them. Merely humans defending their home. Stormwings and their foul odor circle the walls but her scent is what you focus on. Here is a heady mix of fear, determination, hate, and pain. You would be scared for her if you could not sense her safety and smell the small undercurrent of satisfaction. Here is where she caught the hunter foolish enough to take her young. She killed him here and returned home. You know there is indeed much more to this story but now your curiosity is sated and you prepare to leave.
As you ready to take off one stormwing comes closer. You wait for her to speak. Stormwings are not pleasant creatures but they rarely speak without something to say. She studies you looking for something you can only guess at but as she speaks you know your human will be in legends to come. The stormwing merely tells you to send her greetings to your human when you finally see her again. Such a small gesture but for it to come from a stormwing means that her story will pass from one flock to another until the whole of the divine realms echoes with her name. You nod your assent to the hovering stormwing and begin your journey south again.
You fly faster now, no longer following an old trail. The forest flashes below you. You pump harder eager to be reunited with the one who cared for you as her own chick. The one who treated you as an older sister would. The river is a glittering snake as you soar over it. Now you put your beak to the wind and seek her unique scent. There. You veer a little to the east and follow the direction of the rising sun until you come across a wooden nest. It looks like a town but the walls are thick and sharp. But as you finally catch her scent and hear her voice again for the first time you understand. No one will ever hurt her young again.
You hear the shouting of the humans and the soldiers reaching for bows but you ignore them. You know that she won't recognize you right away. You have grown from the small chick she took care of. You fly just out range of their silly bows and land in a field and wait. You know she will come. You merely need to wait. Not more than five minutes later she rides out of her gates on that infernal horse followed by those annoying soldiers she traveled with when she took care of you. As they near the soldiers horses grow skittish. Many fear a grown griffon. But her horse trots closer, unafraid. Even when the soldier's horses will come no closer, she rides on. She is carrying her sword but you know she will not use it unless she has to. You know the exact moment she recognizes you. Her scent changes from wary to surprised. She sheathes her sword and dismounts. The horse glares at you but you know he is merely keeping up old traditions. She calms the wildest of beings. You yourself are an example. She approaches cautiously. She is still not sure it's you. But she takes off her helmet and puts it down. She looks the same as she did when you left. She is taller now but her hair remains the short brown and her eyes are still the kind dreamer's hazel. Stretching out a hand, she finally speaks.
Is that you Beast?
Her voice is still calming and strong as the sea. You feel a sense of nostalgia at the old nickname. The men behind her are shocked but you feel the need to answer in kind. You playfully snap at her hand. She moves it fast enough to avoid being bitten even as a smile comes to her face. You give in and bring your head down to nuzzle her. You are taller than her now. She responds by stroking your feathers and pulling out a loose one. You squawk your indignation but you feel no ill will. You found her again. You found the Protector and now you will protect her until you die. Because you are the abomination. Because you are the griffon who chose a human as kin instead of your own kind. Because even the Protector needs a protector.