Tastes worse than those damn grot berries, but I do it.
“Yeah, Zeph. You can count on me to see the freedom of the Gryphons through.”
He studies my face for a beat and then surprisingly backs off.
“We should go,” he orders, walking over to his dark corner and picking up a pack. Light is starting to filter in through the branches of the tree Pigeon and I shoved into the roof of the cave, and I realize that it must be dawn already. Well, there goes my plans to go back to sleep.
Outrage hammers in my chest, and at first I think Pigeon is also pissed that we’re not going to go back to bed, but she flashes me images of her nest and all the work she put into getting that damn tree here.
Shit.
“Pidge, you promised you wouldn’t get mad if they didn’t appreciate your nest gesture,” I argue, but she huffs, clearly not sticking to that agreement. Crap, how the hell can I smooth this over, we just got back on good terms. “We can build a nest when we get to the Ouphe. I’ll help you rip out as many trees as you want.”
“What’s wrong?” Ryn asks me.
I look from his concerned face to the tree sticking down into the cave and back. “Um...Pigeon’s not ready to leave; she’s super into wanting to make a nest or something.”
“Pigeon?” he asks, puzzled.
“Yeah, that’s what my gryphon likes to be called.”
Zeph and Treno both grunt in irritation at the same time. For two people that hate each other, they sure do think alike. I’m about to defend Pigeon’s choice in names when Treno speaks up.
“This isn’t the time for useless female urges. Like you said, lives are counting on us. Save the preening and roosting. This is war, not a mating.”
Zeph grunts again, his back to us, but it’s clear he’s agreeing in his own fucked up way. I personally don’t care, but Pigeon reacts like what they are saying is a direct attack against her. Hurt and anger clash inside of me, and she stomps off to the dark recesses of my consciousness and lies down, burying her face underneath her onyx wing. I study her reaction and the feelings she sends whirling around inside of us. She feels rejected and hurt, and I hate it.
My eyes and face harden as I look at Treno. “I get what you’re saying, but we both know there are ways to get your point across without being a piece of shit about it. You want to be mad at me, have at it, but if you think I’m going to stand by and let you hurt her,” I seethe, pressing my palm to my chest, “...then you’re in for a rude awakening. Stay the fuck away from me until you can figure out how to be fucking respectful...both of you,” I growl, catching Zeph’s eyes as well. “She deserves better than that.”
I call on my wings, ready to fly the fuck out of here and find the Ouphe myself. But my feathers brush against bark and pine needles, and I’m reminded that there’s not enough room to fly off thanks to the fucking tree. These dicks don’t appreciate shit.
“It was a good tree, Pidge; they weren’t worthy of it,” I try to reassure her, but she stays quiet.
I turn instead and start climbing the tree to get out. At least the wings will cover my ass as I do.
I high five myself for owning this whole find the bright side attitude. Fuck knows I’m going to need it traveling with this group of uncouth numpties. I make my way out of the cave more winded and sweatier than I probably should be from climbing that damn tree. Good thing we’ll be walking for a good portion of this craptastic adventure we’re about to embark on, because I clearly can use the cardio—and a shower. I smell a level of ripe that no one should have to endure for too long.
This should be fun.
7
“I hate this place,” I mutter as I stare at the pile of grot fruit in front of me. “Why can’t we hunt?” I ask again for the sixth time since Ryn dumped dinner in front of me on my blanket.
“We can’t build a fire out here. It’s too dangerous,” Ryn answers.
“We haven’t been making good time, and we’re still too close to possible patrols to risk it,” Zeph adds, giving me a look that says my slowness is to blame.
I stare at the pile of vile fruit and try not to groan. “And why can’t Pigeon hunt? She likes raw meat,” I ask again.
Zeph huffs, and Treno pulls his blanket tighter around him, which has been his tell of annoyance the past three days.
“Pidge—your gryphon—needs a lot more food to sustain her in her form. She’d have to find a whole herd of something to hunt, and that would also possibly draw attention. We can’t risk it. Just eat the berries. They’re the best option we have, and they’re not that bad,” Ryn reassures me, popping a berry into his mouth and chewing it, like that proves it’s edible.
All it proves is that he possesses fucked up taste buds. These berries are the worst. We’ve been eating them for days, because—lucky us—they grow all over the place in the forest. They are some kind of superfood apparently, as it doesn’t take many of them to fill you up, they’re packed with a bunch of nutrients, and they help with healing, but they taste like vomit, and I just can’t put myself through eating them again.
Pigeon won’t even touch them, and that’s saying a lot, because she makes questionable choices and clearly has messed up taste. Which is only further proven by the collection of grumpy jerks currently sitting around us that she likes to call mates.
I thought I had figured out a way to solve the grot fruit problem
