I stop my advance and realize that Wekun is still by my side. More hurt pings through my battered body like I’m a pinball machine. He wants to blame me instead of blaming his brother for being a prick?
I study him on the ground and feel myself hardening inside. It’s as though their hate and mistrust were the water my insides needed to start churning everything I am into concrete. And now, with each glare and nasty word, the cement in my soul is slowly hardening until there’s nothing left but stone.
I can take responsibility for connecting Treno to Zeph and Ryn without their knowledge. I didn’t know either; however, that little fact doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. I’m just some Ouphe-tainted who clearly can’t be trusted. But I’m not going to just sit here and get blamed for the actions of a psycho, because it’s convenient to aim all the anger at me. I’m not going to let their hate infect me, or stand for the unspoken accusation that somehow I would do something to hurt the Gryphons instead of try to protect them.
I’ve hit my limit. I’m over these fuckers.
I check in with Pigeon, and she’s just as disgusted with their behavior. She wraps a warm wing around me and flips them a taloned bird.
“I’ve tried to take the high road,” I start, looking at Zeph, Ryn and Treno in turn. “I’ve tapped into my empathy. I’ve done my best to put myself in your shoes, to understand how hard this situation is for all of you. But have you assholes even tried to do that for me? Nope. Not for one fucking second.
“You all think it’s okay to just dump your anger and pain all over me. You think that for whatever reason, I have to just take the bullshit. That I’m stuck with you and that’s all there is to it. You want to think the worst of me, have fun. You want to blame me for your problems and pretend like your dicks didn’t help to put you in this situation, go for it. Rewrite history all you want. Do what you need to do to cradle your fragile egos and stroke your weak manhoods. But you can do it without me.”
I look over at Wekun, rage simmering in my gut. “You want to help me?” I ask, revisiting what he said earlier.
“I do.”
“Then get me as far away from these pricks as you can, please,” I tell him, hating the crack of emotion that ripples through my words. I blink back the tears I feel in my eyes and rip the cracks inside of me open so that all my fury can flood out and staunch the wounds these three have gouged into my soul.
Wekun gives me a sad smile.
“Gladly,” he agrees, and then he reaches for my palm.
In the time it takes to flap a wing, I’m no longer in the cold dark forest, surrounded by gryphons with anger issues. Now I find myself standing inside a massive tent, the kind I’ve seen in period movies or at Renaissance festivals.
“Holy shit. You actually did it,” I exclaim, looking over at Wekun, completely shocked.
Awed, I look around at the sparse dark wood furniture that’s been placed on top of overlapping, beautiful, jewel-toned carpets. The large rugs are laid out on the ground so the floor is completely covered and cushy. Inside the canvas walls of the tent is spacious. There’s a large bed and side table, a seating area that has massive cushions that look very inviting and relaxing, and on the opposite side from where I’m standing is a small washroom with a copper bathtub, a sink-like basin for washing hands, and...a large bucket.
It says a lot about how fed up I am with Pigeon’s mates, because I don’t even question how smart it was to just up and pop away to who knows where, with a person I don’t know, until right...now.
Like he can sense my instantaneous concern and discomfort, Wekun squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry, Falon, I portalled your mates to the Gryphon camp that’s just next to ours. They don’t know where they are, and they think I took you, but I feel like that might be just the reality check they need at the moment, don’t you?”
I pause, not sure what to say. There’s a part of me that feels bad. They were just magicked somewhere unknown and might be going through some issues with that. Then another part of me screams that I need to get over it. I can’t keep operating like Zeph, Ryn, and Treno have common courtesy, decency, or genuine concern when it comes to me. If not for the fact that their lives are tied to mine, they probably would have killed me or left me behind a long time ago. I promised I would help end this war, but I didn’t promise to let them shit on me and emotionally beat me down while I do.
“Where are we?” I finally manage as I drop-kick my empathy and try to adopt a more hardened mien. Zeph is right, this world isn’t easy on soft feet or soft hearts.
“Oh...right, sorry!” Wekun offers sheepishly, his smile apologetic and kind. “Falon, welcome to the Ouphe stronghold,” he announces, pulling back the front drape of the canvas walled structure we’re standing in and revealing a tent city as far as the eye can see.
Well, fuck me, we’re exactly where I was trying to get.
I step under Wekun’s arm, and thick cool air greets me. It’s quieter than I would have expected from a place that clearly houses so many people. Something about this place reminds me of images that I’ve seen of refugee camps in my old world. The tents are various sizes, but all made from an animal hide that’s the color of light sand and
