"I wish I could fly with you, Ri," Torio said as he reached over to touch my wing.

I chirped my agreement, though my desires were torn between spending time with him and enjoying the sky. "In a few days, I am sure we will again."

"Right," he said, chuckling, "but what I meant was, I wish I had wings. Then we could fly together."

He really was too cute.

Our conversation remained light as we climbed. The slope of the hill inflamed the aches in my paw pads and muscles, but the windward side had a wide enough clearing for takeoff, making the discomfort regrettably necessary. Everything was sore except my wings; three days of waiting and two days of walking had been more than enough recovery for those. Torio still had at least one day of travel until he reached Lighthaven with the rest of the caravan.

As for myself, I yearned to stretch my pinions, and not even he could talk me down—though he had little mind to. Neither of us were eager to return to the saddle. He enjoyed the walking, especially when the forest shaded him from the sun. Logan's Redoubt was home to many humans with the same tan skin and narrower eyes as Torio, but seeing them made me realize his skin had grown even darker; he covered most of his skin in flight, but weeks of morning and evening sun added up.

"I think you could arrive at Lighthaven by early afternoon," I said once we reached the top. "It did not seem so far when we were flying out to Daggermouth."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ri, dear, we were flying at the time. Of course it doesn't seem far."

"And it will not be far for me once I am aloft." I shrugged my wings, and chuckled at his expression. "Much as I wish you could come with me."

"You're better off flying the rest of the way." He looped his arm over my neck and held me close. "Though maybe I'm secretly a selfish man, and plan to never let you go."

"Oh?" I extended a wing around his shoulder. "And how far would you go to keep me, dear Torio?"

"To the very ends of the world, not one step less." He reached up to stroke my feathered crest, drawing a purr from my chest. "And even there, I doubt I could find anyone so beautiful."

"Mm. Do you flatter all your females like this?"

He grinned. "Only the exceptional one, my mate."

My mate. I had doubted love would find me after I'd left my clan and the Steam Mountains. I had been wrong. So much had changed in the past few weeks; we'd entered the wilds as friends and left them as lovers. What could have broken us merely left us stronger, closer. Better. It was bliss.

"Good," I replied, nuzzling his cheek. "If I can find us a private room in Lighthaven, I could do with more such flattery."

"I'm sure the capital will have something, and if it's private enough?" He walked his fingers down my neck and side, and remembering where he went the last time he touched me like that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Flattery might just be the beginning. We have unfinished business."

"Yes, and by tonight, we will have more than enough time and privacy to follow through." I churred and tried to avoid licking his neck—he made such cute sounds when worked up—or encouraging him to keep moving lower. His hand did start creeping lower, though, and I let out a slow breath. "Tor, if you go too far in that direction, I may forget the few reasons why you should stop."

He laughed and withdrew his hand to my chest, though he did lean close as an acceptable compromise. "Sorry. I know I wouldn't want to stop, either."

"Plenty of time ahead. No more delays, no more holding back. Just us."

"Then we'd better get started," he said. "I mean, on getting there. Ache's gone, right?"

I nodded. "It was nothing more than fatigue, I am sure." The slight twinge in my flight muscles had started while flying from the ship to Logan's Redoubt five days previous, so we'd waited to be sure it was no problem. Torio's parents were gone on business to the capital, and after resting turned to restlessness, he had found a caravan to travel alongside.

After two days on foot, the ache was mere memory—along with the novelty of walking.

"That's good!" He glanced around, as if searching for eavesdroppers, then kissed the tip of my beak. "Don't mind me, I just worry."

"You are very sweet," I said, and held him close as best I could. "If it helps your state of mind any further, I will travel at an easy pace over the road."

"It helps, thank you. You have everything you need? Coin, letter?"

"Check and check." In lieu of my saddle—which was packed in one of the caravan's wagons with our other gear—I wore a light harness prominently displaying my new flight captain's pins, along with the letter from Flight Marshals Kaya and Aneurin in a pocket beside a small coin purse. "The Eyrie should have word on my whereabouts. I would ask if you want anything arranged, but I feel I know the answer."

"Want is putting it lightly." He traced his fingers past my primary feathers. "But, you and I have to leave, so we can see each other again all the sooner." He smiled. "Have a safe flight."

"Safe travels for you as well." I teased my tufted tail-tip along his hip. "Unless you want me to stay?"

"Ri!" His smile broke into a laugh, and he batted it away. "I do, but we can't. Pick us a comfortable room, and we'll stay there all month if we want!"

"Consider it done!" My laugh joined his as I bounded forward and beat my wings, fighting the pull of the earth. My heart leaped as I caught the breeze and began to soar. I circled to gain altitude and watch Torio make his way down the hill; every few moments he would look up and wave, or just smile. I followed above him until he'd almost reached the caravan, then continued forward.

Just as I came into view of the camp's clearing, I let out a keening cry; most of the caravan members hadn't seen a gryphon up close, and had been curious about my flying. Some were startled at my call, but others waved and cheered as I flew past. The faint plume of smoke stung my eyes, but a few blinks of my inner eyelid washed away the irritants by the time I reached the road.

The Empire's roads were an impressive reminder of human ingenuity; I'd learned many of them were built and perfected by the old Kingdom of Ethana, and even centuries after their cruel reign was overthrown, the smooth, paved surfaces needed little repair. This road was not as large as the grand highway from Lighthaven to Goldcrest, but it was still a straight line to the capital. Now that I wasn't land-bound, I could reach the city in a matter of hours.

It was the first time in over three months I had flown without saddle, supplies, or rider, and I felt like gravity had no hold on me. This was freedom, and my only wish was that Torio could have wings to experience it himself.

The ache returned not long after Lighthaven came into view.

At first, I thought it was just my muscles settling back into the rhythm of a long flight. By the time I passed over the thick concrete outer walls, each wing beat sent a tight feeling down their length, almost like a cramp or strain, but deeper. The source of the discomfort was unfamiliar, but it was growing worse with each passing flap; fear of my wings giving out in midair crept into my mind.

Land, Ri, I imagined Torio would say. Don't try to push past it. I could see the Eyrie ahead, perhaps a minute away, but the ache wasn't simple fatigue or hunger that I could ignore. My next downbeat sent a spike of pain through my left flight muscle and a sliver of dread into my heart. I angled myself to coast down to the ground, trying to bleed off speed without stalling.

I ground my beak as I tried to think ahead. The ache should have been gone. It wasn't. I pushed those thoughts aside. One way or another I would have to come down, preferably without hitting the people on the street or crashing into something. I would have to use my wings, and one way or another, even a safe landing would hurt.

My resolve hardened. I was Riane, gryphon of the Steam Mountains, daughter of the Riverfall clan, and flight captain in the Allied Flight Corps. I was not going to fold my wings and give up.

Instead, I held my pinions in the most painless glide I could manage and planned my next moves.

Eight seconds left. My beak parted in a keening cry, warning the people below—they turned, slowly, and looked up even slower. The ones below me moved first, which were not the ones I worried for.

Five seconds. I trimmed my primary feathers, losing as much forward momentum as possible. I would have to flare my wings to land, if not flap. I wasn't sure whether the impact or the downbeat would do more damage.

Three seconds. The tops of the buildings passed to either side of my wingtips, and I cried out again. The last humans in my path all but threw themselves aside, shouting, but leaving my path clear.

One second. My tail skimmed above the ground as I pitched my wings to stall, pushing them forward as much as I dared. I willed myself not to flinch as the pain shot through my chest. I exhaled, and braced myself.

My hindpaws touched stone.

The impact was harsh, and I pushed myself into a run, wheeling all four paws and keeping my wings flared. It was almost enough—almost, but just as I slowed to walking speed, my forepaw didn't move fast enough. The whole world lurched as I fought for my balance, and failed. My chest hit the ground, and only quick placement of my other forepaw kept me from tumbling.

Still, it hurt.

I lay there a moment, my wings still half-spread, and tried to catch my breath. My ears perked as voices reached them—notes of shock, of frustration, but mostly of concern. It wasn't often a gryphon landed in the streets, much less crash-landed, and I resisted the urge to cover my face in shame. I didn't look at the humans around me.

If my ears hadn't already pinned back from the embarrassment, the shrill whistle of a city guard drove them flat along my head. "Clear the way, people!" He pushed through an apparently gathering crowd and stopped a pace from my head, kneeling down to meet my gaze. Another guard tailed behind him. "You badly hurt?"

I carefully folded my wings, pulled my paws under me, and looked back over myself. Some of my feathers had been pulled out of place. Stings and aches cried out through my whole body, but I shook my head. "No longer in danger." I took a breath, and the varied smells of the city struck me. "My wings were giving out, and I had to land." I looked past him, and saw some less than sympathetic expressions. "Apologies for the disturbance."

The guard looked over the crowd—as planned, I was the only injury. "Everyone, please resume your business. This was merely an accident." Some of the people dispersed. His companion kept the lingering onlookers at a distance as I stood on unsteady legs. "Easy, now. The Imperial Eyrie isn't far, I can send for transport and a medic or doctor if you need them."

The lingering pangs in my chest and limbs seemed to be fading. "The offer is appreciated, but I think I can walk," I said, taking a few deep breaths to relax my knotted muscles and clear my head. Pinpricks of pain wove through my paws as I took experimental steps forward—the pads were bruised at the very least. "As you said, it is not far."

He nodded, and after a few muttered orders the other guard ran ahead. "If it's all the same, I can accompany you there, just to be safe."

Part of me wanted to argue the point, but pride had played no small part in my current predicament. I swallowed it and bowed my head. "An escort would be welcome. Thank you."

He nodded, and kept a respectable distance at my side as I slowly made my way down the block. The sharp pains dulled into a more persistent ache, and I had to fight the urge to stop and preen my feathers back into place. "I did not catch your name, good sir," I said to the guard, choosing conversation with a witness to my damaged dignity as an alternative to dwelling on it.

"Sergeant Aegen." He gestured to my vest. "You're a captain, am I right?"

"Flight Captain Riane, yes. Well met, though I would have preferred better circumstances."

He politely chuckled. "Well met, regardless, ma'am. I remember a liaison from the Eyrie said something like, 'any good landing is one you walk away from.' Nothing's broken or bleeding?"

I could feel the sting of scrapes, but my body had stopped short and relatively soft rather than skidding or slamming into the ground. "No, thankfully, but it could have gone better."

"Could've gone worse." He pointed to the colored fabric awnings rolled up on the brick and stone buildings lining the street. "If this was a market fair day, you'd have faced crowded streets and little room to spread your wings."

My ears flattened. "It was a lucky landing, indeed."

He eyed me sidelong. "I saw the landing. Luck played only part, flight captain. The rest was skill and care."

I dipped my head in acknowledgment, no longer trusting my voice. The high towers of the Imperial Eyrie were in view, at least—and the familiar whoosh of wing beats had my ears perked. A pair of gryphons took off from the flight pad atop one of the towers, and quickly gained speed before banking to the south.

The Eyrie itself was a magnificent piece of human engineering. It was built of cloud-gray stone on the base of an old Kingdom structure. The greatest marvel was the two flight towers, with their pads easily thirty times the height of a human. A stylized gryphon's head reigned over the entrance, with carved feathered pinions outspread to either side of the building. The flight motifs continued along both sides of the building, with a sculpture garden between the two wings of the building.

It was testament to the Empire's investment in an alliance between our species.

A whistle brought my attention back to the road. The guardsman from before trotted towards us with a gryphon following. I noted a healer's insignia on the latter's vest as he approached me.

"How bad are your injuries?" The healer spoke in my native tongue as he looked over my wings, then my chest and forelegs. "Any harsh pains, bleeding?"

"Aches and scrapes, mainly. I feel nothing life-threatening. Walking is uncomfortable, but I can make it to the infirmary." As he continued to examine me, I turned my head to the sergeant and guard and switched back to Imperial. "Thank you, both of you, for your assistance."

Sergeant Aegen brought his left fist to his chest in salute. "Our duty to serve, ma'am. Best wishes for your recovery."

Both departed, and I waited for the healer's order.

"Yes, if you've walked this way without concern, a few more steps should not hurt." He flanked me, poised to catch me if I stumbled. "The infirmary is quiet, and Cairene herself can see to you. At your own pace, flight captain...?"

"Riane." Under his escort, I continued until the halls of the Eyrie surrounded us.

I wanted nothing more than to detach myself and observe Cairene's work from afar, but the brown-feathered matriarch kept my attention grounded with questions and adjustments to my wings. She held title of chief healer above the few medical gryphons the Eyrie employed, and while I'd only visited her twice before, I trusted her judgment—whatever it would be.

"Extend, please. Any pain or stiffness?"

I complied, holding my wing outstretched—given the size of the tiled stone room, I could have nearly held out both were it not for the pillars. "Mild stiffness, yes."

She clicked her tongue and ran the back of a talon along the joint. "Where was the pain during the stages of your wing beat, and how severe?"

The question gave me pause. "Shooting pain through the muscle at the midway mark and lower, like claws tugging at it," I finally answered. "Less so at the apex."

"Noted." She had me angle my wing in different ways, twist it, push down on a tabletop, then had me repeat with the other wing. She urged me to stop the moment I reported any of the discomfort that had grounded me.

Finally, she leaned back and tilted her head. "The report given was incomplete, so I have some gaps in knowledge. Your assignment was six weeks of daily long-distance flight with a rider, correct?"

"Yes, but it was extended." I told her of the delay, and outlined the schedule and flying conditions.

Her ears twitched, barely. "Twelve weeks of long-distance flight under load, few breaks, and the majority of your meals were camp rations." She sighed. "You should not have flown today, but that is past. You were smart to land when you did."

I tried to keep my feathers unruffled and my voice calm. "How severe is the damage?"

"Not minor, but not severe." She motioned for me to lie down. "I will need the rest of your physical before deciding how best you should heal."

I complied. Not severe seemed hopeful, and I occupied the rest of my thoughts following the rest of her instructions and questions.

"Good. Please, sit," Cairene said at last, gesturing to nearby cushions. When we were settled, she regarded me with a solid amber eye. "Did you choose to extend your contract, or was it ordered?"

"There weren't any replacements available, so they extended it." It wasn't the best answer to her question, so I added, "I—we—could have ended it early through several clauses, but we felt more than strong enough to continue, and assumed they thought the same."

She ground her beak a moment, considering. "It should not have been extended past six weeks. Let alone to double that time. I hardly mean to scare you, but your wings should have given out long before now. Your flight muscles, and several tendons, have been damaged from overexertion."

My ears twitched at this news, but I still frowned. "But I did nothing strenuous—."

She raised a paw to stop me. "Which is why the damage is progressive, not catastrophic. Just as overstretched leather forms many small tears, your muscles have suffered the same."

"But the difference is, I will heal?"

"In time," she said. "If you aren't careful, the damage can become permanent. I say this because you will dislike the treatment: to let the tears mend, you must not use your wings for at least four weeks."

She was wrong. I hated it with every part of my being. "I am grounded for four weeks?" It took every effort to keep my feathers from puffing out and spreading the wings I'd just been told to keep still. Neither fight nor flight—especially that, now—would do me any good.

"At least four weeks," she repeated, her voice firm and gaze unwavering. "During which, you will need regular therapy to ensure proper healing, and after which you must gradually rebuild your strength and endurance before you can resume flying with a rider."

I looked off to the side, as if studying one of the instruments or books on the nearby table. I didn't want to let the weight on my heart overwhelm me. "And my other injuries?"

She churred, a soft and warm sound that brought my attention back to her. "Your other aches will feel worse tomorrow, but should be gone after several days of rest. I will give you a salve for the worst scrapes and for your bruised paw pads. The feathers on your chest will grow back like normal." She motioned to my back. "Your back feathers are rather saddle-worn and need to moult. There is no reason to wear a saddle now, so consider storing it for the duration of your recovery."

Many of my thoughts were still reeling from the shock, but I nodded in assent. "And when we return to duty after our leave?"

"Light administrative duty at most. I may order an extension even if you heal as planned." Her eye darkened, though her ire wasn't directed towards me. "It is the least I can do to rectify irresponsibility in extending contracts."

My ears dipped, and I lowered my head. "I do not want to cause trouble."

She clicked her tongue again, but smiled at me. "You have nothing to fear, Flight Captain Riane, save for lack of rest. Causing trouble is one of my duties as chief healer."

I bowed my head even further; between previous meetings and her reputation, it was best to not cross her lest one get verbally pinioned. "I am glad to hear that."

She nodded and stood. "Then it is settled. Come," she said, pointing towards the next room. "We must fit you for a sling and braces. You will not enjoy them, I'm afraid, but they will help accelerate your healing."

An hour later I was finally released. Cairene implied a stern warning against biting the fabric harness and wooden splints off my wings and back, no matter how much I wanted to be rid of the contraption. Her human assistants had been skilled and avoided causing me pain, but their blunt efficiency had offered the bare minimum of comfort.

I regretted leaving Torio, but unlike before, I saw no better path. Carrying him would have ended in disaster. Continuing to walk would have postponed the discovery of my injury, perhaps to catastrophic effect. Even waiting another week in Logan's Redoubt wouldn't have given my wings time to heal. The weight in my chest continued to grow.

I turned towards the main hall, though I had to wait as a trio of gryphons came from one of the side rooms. They wore no insignia or other Corps attire. A larger male and a female conversed in low tones, and the third, a male with earthy plumage, stared at the splints over my wings.

"Good day," I said in Imperial, more conscious of his gaze than my language.

"Correct yourself." His reply was in a clipped Northern gryphon tongue.

My crest twitched, and I switched to the same tongue. "I misunderstand."

"You would greet a fellow gryphon like a human?"

"My thoughts were elsewhere," I replied. His tone grated, but I kept my feathers smooth. "Does human speech offend you?"

He snorted. "It is beneath us. Our beaks were built for better than their lip-flapping." He glanced at my wings again. "Such a shame that too many gryphons are too land-bound to care."

Land-bound. The reality of it stung more than the idiom, but I fought the urge to flatten my ears and back down. My wings would spread in spirit if not in body. "If you have quarrel with me, then say so."

He opened his beak to respond, but a sharp whistle from the side cut him off. The source was the other male, who was closer to my height. I admired his plumage as he stepped closer. His head, neck, and chest feathers were pure white save for the jet black shaft in the center of each, while his wings and torso were a rich chestnut color that melded into the tawny fur on his rearward body. The contrast was striking, and easily drew attention to his sharp features.

The brown-feather bowed his head in deference. "My apologies for disturbing, but—."

"But nothing." The leader motioned towards the female. "Wait with Liyana. We will discuss this later." The brown-feather went stiff, then slunk off to the side, and the leader's intense amber gaze returned to me. "He spoke out of turn. It will not happen again."

I chirped an acknowledgment. "His words will pass. Why such animosity?"

"Words may be wind, but wrongs against our people don't pass so easily." He barely inclined his head towards me. The long black tufts atop his ears twitched with the motion. "I am Kerak of the Worldspine, appointed emissary of the northern clans."

"Flight Captain Riane of the Steam Mountains. Well met, and welcome." I bowed. "I've heard little news these past months. Have there been border disputes to cause these wrongs?"

Kerak shook his head. "Not as such. This is a wound in our history, a pain felt through generations." His eyes drifted to my wings. "But, I would not trouble you with it. Are you badly hurt?"

"No, my flight muscles were merely overextended," I said, wondering how many more people would ask. Torio would ask. I didn't know what to tell him. "It was… merely an accident. Forgive me, I didn't mean to interrupt your work."

He chuckled. "You are very polite, Flight Captain Riane. No, my work here is done. I came to see if this vaunted alliance held benefit for the many clans, or if, as I suspect, our fellow gryphons would suffer clipped wings from dealings with the humans."

"Clipped wings?" I was taken aback. "I have great hope for this alliance. The humans treat us with nothing but respect, and have abundantly repaid our service to them."

"To them," he echoed, tapping a talon on the polished stone floor. "Tell me, why is this alliance based in the human city—the capital of those who once invaded our lands? How many contracts and assignments are done for humans, balanced against the number done for gryphons?"

I wasn't sure which question to answer first. "Invaded? With respect, that is mistaken. The Kingdom of Ethana fell many generations ago. The Empire would never invade gryphon lands. They respect us, and we've already gained much influence in this alliance."

He tilted his head. "Do they pay you in anything but human coin?"

I frowned, unsure what he meant by that. "They compensate me well."

"I'm sure you believe so, but their metal pieces are of little value where it matters." He tapped his talon again, and his gaze narrowed. "How much do they care for our needs? What use do we have to them, other than our wings? These troubles drive me to question the humans at every turn." His tone remained steady, if firm, and he did not flare his crest, stamp his paws, or otherwise show off. He was stone serious. "If they could learn to fly, I have little doubt they would cast us all aside."

Had the brown-feather still been speaking, I would have dismissed the claims as paranoia or worse. Kerak was not him—still wrong, certainly, but no fool. I wondered what the old and greedy Kingdom had done to his clan so many lifetimes ago, that he would speak with such spirit.

At the very least, it was worth debating the point. I gestured towards my back. "My wings will be useless for another month, if not more. The Corps is paying for my rest and recovery. Even..." I took a breath, not wanting to think of the worst, but resolved to make my point. "Even if they fail to heal, I'm certain they would find a place for me. We have so much more to offer each other than wings, or coin. This is only the first step. Humanity deserves a second chance."

The barest hint of a smile crossed Kerak's features. "So it would seem. Much as I would like to continue this discussion, Flight Captain Riane, I doubt we'll convince each other. I take my leave." He inclined his head again. "May earth and sky meet to speed your recovery."

I bowed in turn, still not doubting his sincerity. "My thanks, and sky's blessing on your negotiations."

"I am certain of that, at least." With that, he turned and strolled down the hallway, and the other two gryphons followed.

"Clipped wings," I grumbled after he was beyond earshot, and continued on my way. Not even an hour had passed since my wings were bound and twice I had endured reference to my injury. The brown-feather had certainly been deliberate, but Kerak was harder to read. Perhaps his was an innocent figure of speech given at the wrong time—it sounded practiced, like part of a speech. And besides, his views had enough problems without assigning needless antagonism, even if he was handsome and well-spoken.

I needed to move on, to think of better things; and besides, I had yet to rent lodging for the night. My relative lack of mobility meant asking at the main reception area instead of finding a guide.

Fortunately, after suggestions of sleeping arrangements that were either separate or entirely too public, a young flight lieutenant with brown hair waved me aside. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. The Halls of the Empress opened a few months ago. They have rooms built for gryphons, but they work for flight partners as well."

My ears perked. "They are private? My partner and I are returning from the wilds, and the solitude will help us adjust."

Her flight partner, a gryphoness slightly smaller than myself with gray and black feathers, chirped in agreement. "They are. If you also wish to be... very cared for?"

"Pampered," the woman murmured, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"Pam-pered, yes. A bathing house is across the path."

"Expensive, though." Her partner shifted on her feet, and chuckled in a soft way. "Eight contracts and six months of stipend, and we're still not sure we can afford it."

I nodded, and tried not to idly ruffle wings that were still bound at my sides. At least the two weren't staring. "Thank you, I will look into the Halls, and mention the latter to my partner." Before I turned to leave, I regarded both of them. "You have been together for six months?"

They gave each other a quick glance, and smiled. "We were... acquainted, yes? Before we enlisted," the gryphoness said. "After training, there was no other choice." Her Imperial was accented, but smooth enough

The woman reached over to ruffle the other female's feathers. "And here we are, six months later, still making it work."

Part of me wondered how they had met. It sounded like a good story.

I chuckled and bowed my head just far enough for respect, and they returned the gesture with deference. "Indeed. My partner and I have been together two years now. With honesty, loyalty, and friendship, it will only get better." I smiled. "Thank you for your recommendations, and pleasant skies for both of you."

"You as well," they said, and the shine in their eyes gave me hope—almost enough hope to dispel my worries as I left a message for Torio at the reception area.

Almost.

Hours passed. The Halls of the Empress was all that the flight lieutenants had said—I regretted not getting their names—and a little more. There were cushions for comfortable seating, storage for belongings, and a bath large enough to wash in, though not to fully immerse myself. The bed was more of a nest of thin cushions, with coverings that seemed thick enough that my claws couldn't accidentally pierce them, in contrast to the nearby sheets and blanket for my partner.

I chose not to try it without Torio's assistance, even though it would feel like pure luxury compared to sleeping on hard stone in the wilds. Besides, I could hardly rest.

However, I had little to occupy my time and thoughts until Torio's arrival—if he arrived at all. The sun was within reach of the horizon. If the caravan didn't travel after dark, I would be left alone for the night. I was not ready to endure even more curious stares, or the pity, of those who looked on my crippled wings. I could not fly. Kerak hadn't been wrong about the value of the wingless: clans often made efforts to provide for those without flight, but a grounded gryphon could not hunt, could not scout, and certainly could not complete contracts with her flight partner.

I pushed him out of my mind. The idea that gryphons suffered from the alliance was laughable; I had enough concerns without a separatist—or whatever he was—bending my feathers.

And yet, the doubts lingered.

The warmly-colored rug in the center of the room made a comfortable enough spot to lie in wait. I settled my head on my forelimbs. Overconfidence. It had been overconfidence that pushed us—pushed me—to keep flying the Frontier courier route despite extension after extension of the contract, and my wings had paid the price. It had been overconfidence that drove me to encourage our leap into physical intimacy, and we had nearly lost everything we had built together.

Perhaps it was that same overconfidence that kept me from questioning my dedication to the Allied Flight Corps. Perhaps the Aurel Empire was mere steps away from following in the old Kingdom's despotic wake. Perhaps I should never have left the clans. Perhaps I should not have fallen in love with a human, perhaps we would be discovered, perhaps it would not last, perhaps...

I gritted my beak, forced myself to breathe out, and relaxed my talons' grip on the rug beneath me. A few rubs with my knuckles hid the holes I'd made in the fabric. I was a gryphon of the Riverfall clan. I was a flight captain in the Allied Flight Corps. The twisted knot in my stomach, the tremors in my bound wings, the mocking words of others—none of these things could affect me if I chose otherwise.

I was strong. I was brave. Yet none of these things could help me now, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I had lost the sky, and all my triumphs felt like clouds: too far away to grasp.

Just like Torio.

So I waited.

If there were knocks, they didn't reach my ears. The sound of the door opening did stir my consciousness, and a familiar voice started me out of sleep.

"Riane?"

The figure in the doorway grinned as I opened my eyes, and turned to someone in the hallway. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm all set."

I lifted my head. "Torio?"

"Been a while, hasn't it?" He chuckled, setting his bags down and closing the door. "We got to the gates just in time for sunset, then—oof!" His words vanished as I plowed into him, and he barely kept his footing by throwing his arms around my neck. "Okay, definitely too long," he managed to say once he recovered his breath.

A pleased growl was my only rational response. I pressed my beak to his neck, picking out his scent amidst the dust and dirt of the road, and he ran his fingers through my neck-feathers. Words weren't needed, not now, not when he was close and here, not when my worries seemed like leaves in the wind. His fingers traveled downwards, towards my back, then perhaps down to my chest, my belly, and wherever he wanted to touch me from there.

Instead, they stopped at the sling supporting my bound wings.

Our eyes met, but words failed me when I tried to explain. The lamps in the room burned low, so he probably hadn't seen my infirmity. I closed my beak. I didn't know what to expect, or how to answer his questions—but, he didn't ask them. His face went through several expressions as he put the details together. Then, he wordlessly pulled me back into his embrace, and I buried my face against his shoulder.

Out of all the decisions I had made in the past months, choosing him was the best.

Torio did speak a few moments later. "Are you in pain?"

"Some scrapes and bruises from a hard landing, and the ache has redoubled, but it is manageable. Keeping the wings still helps," I murmured, looking up at him. It took a few breaths for me to voice my thoughts. "I should not have left the caravan."

The hand on my neck stopped moving. "It's not your fault, Ri. I shouldn't have pushed for us to leave Logan's Redoubt."

I gave his shoulder a light push with my beak. "I agreed with leaving. You are past blame, Tor. I should have listened to my wings."

"And I'm your flight partner, the one charged with ensuring your well-being. It's my responsibility too."

I wanted to keep arguing, to take the blame from his shoulders, but it was clear he wanted to do the same, and neither of us would back down from defending the other, even at the cost of our own pride. A light chuckle rose in my throat. "All true, and I think it best if we agree we were both overconfident."

His expression clouded, and for a moment I thought he might pursue the point. Then, he relaxed, and his hands resumed their soothing caresses. "Fair deal. Lessons learned, and now we move on?"

"Indeed." I glanced back at the harness. "Though the moving may be somewhat difficult."

"Those cushions look comfortable, if you want to tell me about your day," Torio said, and we both moved over to the couch-like arrangement. After he sat, I laid my head on his lap, letting him continue his attentions while I told him everything: the landing, my healing regimen, the encounter with Kerak, and what little had happened since.

He hugged me when I finished. "I'm just glad you're safe."

I nodded and nudged his hand for more attentions once we'd parted. "Your return is a pleasant end to the day."

"I do what I can. We can share some food, get to sleep, and have a quiet day tomorrow? I think we can postpone our debrief for a few days."

"That would be best." He brought out some smoked meats and a mix of seeds and nuts; it was light fare, but there was novelty in food that didn't have to keep for several weeks in the wild. The room had filtered drinking water to wash it down—unlike the boiled water in our camps or the lukewarm water in Logan's Redoubt, this was blessedly cool on the tongue.

"Hm," Torio said after we'd finished. "I should hire a courier tomorrow morning to bring a message to my parents. If they're still in the city."

I nodded, and leaned close to him, at least until my senses caught up with me. "For now, though, I am sure you would want to wash away the dirt and the, ah, sweat from your travels?"

"Ri," he said, bemused, "are you calling me stinky?"

I refused to fall into that trap. "I am saying you have been walking for the past few days, and we had no proper bath out in the wilds. Why not luxuriate before we go to sleep?"

His grin stretched across his face. "Who am I to argue? Very well. I'll go luxuriate."

With a quick kiss on the top of my beak, he rose and headed towards the room with the bath; once he was gone, I practiced unhooking the harness, finally letting my wings free from their restraints. I dared not extend them more than enough to ruffle the feathers, and my throat tightened at the lingering stiffness in the joints and muscles. If it did not get better...

I pushed my fears aside and started preening; after a brief crisis from finding nowhere to dispose of the loose feathers, I used what I imagined was a waste container. If not, it was now. I heard water flowing as Torio finished his bath. The healers at the Eyrie had helped clean my fur and feathers of dirt and dust while treating my scrapes, but I was still a little envious of my mate. At least there was the spa across the street.

If their baths were sufficiently private I would have to ask Torio to wash my back, and I was sure he could only do that from behind me. He would have to get very close—close enough that I would have to keep my tail to the side. And of course, it made no sense to wear clothes while bathing.

Perhaps our leave would not be so bad, after all.

These thoughts occupied me, though not as thoroughly as I'd have liked, until Torio emerged from the bathing room clad in a robe. His dark hair had grown long to the point of unruliness over our long deployment, but somehow he had tamed it, and as I drew closer I noticed his smell was back to a more pleasant undertone—and if I was correct, he'd used some sort of fragrant soap.

He gestured to my wings. "How're they feeling?"

I exhaled. "Somewhat stiff, but there is no pain. I am ready for this day to be over."

"I don't blame you," he said, and gestured to the bedroom. "I just need to unpack a thing or two. Think that bed's big enough for both of us?"

A thrum vibrated in my chest at the thought. "It will be, yes. Come when you are ready." I flicked my tail-tip as I passed, and I tried not to chuckle as his eyes were drawn to the motion. Sometimes he was more like a gryphon than a human, I thought. My paws did not damage the cushioned bed when I stepped on it, and it felt far more comfortable than the rug.

It wasn't long until Torio climbed in after me and snuggled against my side, pulling a blanket with him. I could feel his warmth even through the thin fabric shorts he wore to sleep. A purr rumbled in my chest. Part of me wanted the intimacy of having nothing between us, but closer cuddles—or more—could wait for even better nights.

His fingers trailed over my feathers. "Good night, Ri."

My heart warmed. "Good night, Tor. Rest well."

"You too."

Our eyes closed, and for a while I listened to the faint beat of his heart, and the sound of his steady breathing, before a deep sleep took me.

END PART ONE

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So endeth the wait. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please fave, vote, and perhaps leave a comment! 

Special thanks to Beck20, cthorski, Jin, and Exodite for beta reading, to the loyal readers, and to all the friends who listened to my rambles, helped with ideas, and offered no end of encouragement. <3

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