A group of four clay brick houses surrounded a fifth building that served as store room and kitchen. Drasik's bordered one of the main city streets, which was perfect for business and tolerable for living. It was home, or close enough to it. A familiar scent touched his nose as he entered through the front door.

"Drasik?" Sianna had been reclining on a row of narrow cushions next to his assistant, but rose with a fluid motion once he was in sight. "Kosk said you might stop back here for lunch, but I didn't want to impose." She inclined her head, tan-feathered crest lifting a fingers-length and tufted ears swiveling his way. Gryphons had odd faces, with a too-inflexible beak and feathers rising and falling in odd patterns, but he'd learned to read her usual range of emotions. Relaxed, yet attentive, if not a little eager to see him.

"Good afternoon," he said, matching her bow with a smile. Kosk stood, but otherwise awaited his call. "You're never an imposition, my friend. All is well, I hope? Can you stay for lunch?"

"It is, and I can." A shaded feather was loose on her chest, drawing his eye, but the rest of her plumage and gray coat of fur were well-groomed. "Though I do have letters for you first."

"Just one moment." He gestured to Kosk and gave a quick series of instructions when he approached. The moss-green male nodded, then set out to find both food and courier. Drasik thought the youth's intellect wasted in years of menial service to elevate his status and assist with negotiations instead of errands, but that was the way of things.

With that done, he pushed into the sitting room and held the door for Sianna. "Come in." His smile returned as she padded past him with the balanced poise of a natural huntress. It was worth admiring for a moment, but rude to stare. He closed the door behind them. "Special deliveries?"

"Just letters," she said after taking a seat on a floor cushion. A moment of searching followed until she brought three sealed envelopes from her leather satchel and held them out, with a practiced grip masking her talons' mediocre dexterity. "None urgent."

He nodded and reached out to take them, fingers brushing talons. Unlike the earlier missive, all three were routine communications. He set them aside, tail swaying as he thought. The Matriarch had entered the city three days ago. Even when she took time to settle in, he'd always received a prompt invitation to attend her and report his work—usually on short notice.

This time, he'd gotten nothing more than word of her arrival.

Sianna, waiting patiently across from him, tilted her head. "Not what you expected?"

He stilled his tail, and briefly explained his thoughts. "I could understand if she had meetings of her own with the merchants," he continued, "but my role is to represent her authority. A direct meeting without my involvement wouldn't be proper. I can't imagine why she would delay, unless she was displeased."

"You still have your own authority, Drasik. The merchants and dock masters trust you, and while she may deliver the goods, you are the one who sits at their tables. Why worry about the Matriarch's displeasure?"

He smiled at her optimism, but she didn't know about the letter. He pulled it from his pocket. "Because a fifth of our business is indefinitely suspended as of this afternoon."

Her ears flattened as she drew back. "What?" She focused on the page and read, pupils narrowed amid green-gold irises. "So that's why you're tense. You got that letter before you arrived?" At his nod, she huffed. "You've told me about that merchant. If he doesn't come around, you might be better off."

"His businesses handle one of every twelve coins flowing through Silvermere's docks. Even if we could sell the goods he'd have bought, we'd do so at a loss."

She smoothed her feathers, shrugged her wings, and her beak parted in her own smile. "I understand. But, what would you tell me to do, if I were worrying three problems ahead of the present?"

"To focus on what you can fix in the here and now," he said, and chuckled. "Or that I should scratch your ears until the stress is gone."

"Good advice. Proper care of gryphons is very important." Her expression wasn't the easiest to read, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. "After the meal, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." He shook his head, rueful. "For now, please, tell me about your work so far."

Her work was, blessedly, routine and uneventful. By the time an apprentice of the house block's chef brought in a large plate of grilled lake fish, fresh fruit, and warm bread, they had moved on to stories of home. Sianna was the lucky one, with an easy day's flight between Silvermere and her clan's home in the Shattered Hills.

His mind wandered further ashore, to home beyond the towering peaks the humans called the Worldspine. Traveling to or from Silvermere took up to two weeks over water. He'd used to travel home more often, before he'd grown accustomed to the human city and at least some of its inhabitants.

Sianna tipped her head back, swallowing a last piece of meat, then dragged her cushion next to his seat. By the time she'd settled, he'd cleaned his fingers and leaned a little to the side—all the better to run his short, trimmed claws through her crest. It didn't take long before she started purring. She didn't have the soft thrum of the small felines that owned humans more than the other way around, but a deep, throaty rumble that might well set the dishes to rattling if encouraged. He laid on plenty of encouragement. She was perhaps the oddest friend he'd made, but she was witty and beautiful and comfortable.

Besides, she wasn't part of the complicated dance of status that often consumed his people. There was a range of statuses for outsiders, if he bothered with propriety, but not having to weigh the sum of her station and standing was a strange relief. Perhaps it was selfish of him to consider that part of their friendship. Then again, she had implied he was something similar to her: not part of her normal world, but welcome in her company in spite and because of it.

Sianna pressed her larger head into his palm and glanced up at his face. "Is the stress gone yet?"

He redoubled the scratching and shrugged, not fighting the slight tug of a smile. "I think we're doing this backwards if I'm the one who needs relief."

"I'm sure it works both ways. But, to be serious, would you like the same?"

"It is nice to think about," he admitted, "but I don't have ears or feathers. Preening me is rather impossible."

She considered that, then her warm beak nudged his arm. "Sit beside me. I will make my best effort."

Drasik didn't frown or hesitate, but his mind still worked on her intent as he pulled the chair's cushion onto the floor next to hers. Controlled reactions and social calculations were hazards of his job. She half-crawled closer until her shoulder touched his back. It took some adjustment before his tail and her paws weren't in danger of entanglement, but she coaxed him to recline against her plumage. It really was nice, he reflected. The thick feathers seemed to trap her body heat, and her breath tickled over his hide. The smooth beak trailed from shoulder to neck, then up the back of his head.

"Just relax," she murmured, navigating the crest of short horns along the back of his skull. "The stress does you no good."

He'd have nodded if she wasn't so close. "This is quite nice, thank you." His idle hands felt awkward, and he wanted to turn, to reciprocate the affections. He thought of something to distract them. "If I may ask, this sort of preening is a bonding activity between gryphons, correct?"

The beak hesitated in its explorations before poking him. "Drasik, you know you may always ask! And yes, it is a common thing for close friends. Or mates." She paused a moment. "We are, perhaps, not quite close enough for that."

He chuckled, and reached up to rub her neck. "Probably not. But, we are friends, and at least fairly close?"

"Without doubt." She did shift to let him better reach, and he moved closer—the better for their mutual grooming, surely. Her scent wasn't quite earth, wood, or musk but something reminiscent of all three. Proximity only made it stronger. "And for your culture? Do tell me if this is rude or intrusive."

"It isn't," he said, thinking. "But, there's not an easy parallel. Bathing, maybe? It depends on one's status relative to—well, you know." Their people's hierarchies weren't a thing one easily explained to outsiders, but he'd taught her the basics. It was almost odd how much they'd shared, but even though his day-to-day dealings were with humans, he felt richer for their own experiences.

They were still too apologetic, of course, but he took that as a good sign. Neither wanted to hurt the other by ignorance or carelessness.

"It can be anywhere from a professional service to an intimate encounter," he continued, "so I'd say this, here, is something done for a close friendship."

She hummed, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad. It'd be quite awkward if I found I was crossing boundaries."

"Momentarily awkward, at worst. I mean, touching one's horns could be considered intimate." He could sense her ears flattening, and he patted her neck before she could think to withdraw. "It's fine, Sianna. I don't really mind." It felt nice, and that was the most justification he dared put to it. If she were his own kind, he might have thought they were knowing advances and responded in kind.

It had been a while since he'd been home, and opportunities were scarce so far beyond home shores; while he didn't consider humans objectionable, they weren't exactly an appealing option for courtship. The soft skin and lack of tail were just too strange. Gryphons should have seemed odder still, but Sianna was excellent company and had swayed his opinion like the tide.

"Your company is lovely," she murmured, and glanced at the slotted window. "But. Much as I'd like to stay, I still have other letters to deliver."

"Of course. Our work is never done, it seems," Drasik said, turning but not quite pulling away. The lingering promise of comfort and companionship kept him by her side. "We should meet again. Dinner here, tomorrow, sixth bell after noon?"

Her purr made a brief return, vibrating against his back and shoulder. "Dinner sounds marvelous, and my work will be finished by then. Hopefully your Matriarch will call on you earlier in the day?"

He paused and considered. Dinner seemed the safest option. Matriarch Oniss would expect attendance at her leisure alone—unless, of course, he had an unavoidable engagement that couldn't be canceled on short notice. Saving a shred of favor wasn't worth clearing an entire day of obligations. "I'll manage. Sixth bell, barring catastrophe upon the city itself."

"I look forward to it," she said, and hummed in appreciation of his touches. "For now, my friend, remember to breathe. The winds will carry you as they will, but you aren't powerless in their grasp."

"'Waves and currents may push and pull, but you still have the strength to swim.' A universal metaphor, I suppose."

"Just so." She glanced down at his tail, which had taken to erratic twitches to match his thoughts. "I can tell it weighs on you."

He did take a breath, at that. Usually he stilled anxious impulses, but he'd let his control slip. "It does, but you are right. I will find a way." It felt wrong, dishonest, to keep wearing the masks his position demanded while around her. He smiled instead. "Part of me wishes I could have you deliver these."

She shifted, and an edge of regret cut through the tranquility. It had been the wrong thing to say, even if true. She worked for convenience rather than necessity. Employment would place her in far more concrete station relative to him—one too far below his position to allow them such things as sitting on the floor and pretending to groom each other.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I just mean—I don't want to imply you ought to work for me." It was heartening to see her ears perked instead of flattened, and crest still relaxed instead of flaring with offense. Cautious curiosity, if he had to name her expression, and he continued, "I mean to say, I trust you, and trust in our friendship." It seemed an incomplete sentiment, and he reconsidered speaking before thinking. Too many missteps could lead to a storm of trouble.

Despite the awkwardness, or perhaps because his tail was plainly twitching again, she nuzzled his shoulder. "I think I understand. It wouldn't work for continuing like this in practice, but if nothing else, at least we'd see each other more?"

That thought settled into place and stuck, apparently the missing piece to his incomplete musings. "Exactly." He almost slumped in relief, but he'd kept just enough poise to avoid dramatic displays. His tail was treacherous enough. "I do want to see you more, Sianna. I value your company."

Her smile banished the rest of his worries. "And I, yours. Even if words fail us at times."

"A heart without words is better than words without heart," he said, smiling back, though the source of the sentiment escaped him. A human proverb, certainly. Their worlds mixed and mingled in the strangest ways.

Sianna made to stand, and Drasik found himself moving with her, as if they'd been on the verge of moving for minutes. Perhaps they had. He pretended not to watch as she snatched a last quick bite of meat, then walked her to the hall and out the main doorway. A large cloud shielded them from the sun, but the air didn't smell like approaching rain; just the city, its people, and Sianna.

"Until tomorrow, my friend," he said, and reached out to brush her neck.

"Until then." She leaned into his palm with a contented hum. With one last smile, she turned and walked down the street. The sway of her haunches and tail caught his eye. The casual motions were less pronounced than his own people's, likely from four legs providing better balance than two. Still, she had quite a nice tail, feathered and furred as it was. He wished he could court a lady with even half that much lithe grace—.

He shook his head and wrenched his gaze away, retreating back through the open door.

It had been far too long since he'd been home.

Continued on Patreon, SubscribeStar, and/or the Feral! anthology.