Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Twenty-Two

The gryphon hatched on the fifth day of training—it destroyed Derek Grey's cabin. Returning from flying lessons, the fledgling discovered that the bed sheets were ripped, the book shelf was clawed, his backup cloaks and tights were shredded, and everything on his desk had been knocked to the ground.

Sleeping peacefully amidst the chaos was a hatchling. She laid on her side, and her feet kicked as she dreamed. The gryphon hatchling weighed no more than four pounds and was eight inches in length. .

Derek looked down at his right hand and then at her eye. Our marks are identical. The fledgling took a step forward, but the wood squeaked underneath him. He hesitated as the gryphon twitched before falling back into her slumber. Taking slow steps away from her, Derek backed out of the cabin and closed the door softly behind him.

Two doors over, he walked to Kendra's cabin. It was the first time he had gone to her home. Looking around skeptically, he assumed that this was another break in the edicts but hoped that this would be an exception. Knowing the reapers, he would still be punished. With a sigh, he knocked. Silence. He knocked again. Silence. He knocked a third—

"What is it?" Kendra asked as she threw open the door, scowling. The reaper had changed out of her clothes and was now only in the skin-tight attire. He looked past her quickly, into her room. Papers were stacked haphazardly on the desk, different drawings and charcoal sketches of each of the reapers, monsters, mysterious landscapes. Paints, charcoal pencils, erasers, and brushes were resting lazily around, on top of, and below the papers on the desk. On the bookshelf in the back corner were the spoils of war: a golden crown, a blackened dagger with an ash wood handle, a mace, the greaves of a giant. A shield hung on the wall above the shelves, the face of a woman with snakes for hair adorned its center. Knives were embedded deep into the dark grains of the mahogany logs on the walls, looking like oversized darts. Large candles and candlesticks were lit, in various positions of burning. Some were burned to the bottom of the wax, while others had scarcely been lit.

It was the room of an eccentric assassin.

"My eyes are here, Derek," she growled.

"Uh, the uh, gryphon... It hatched," he stammered, struggling to make eye contact with the reaper. "She wrecked my cabin."

"And?" she asked.

"What do I do?" Derek replied.

"What do you mean, what do you do?" she sneered.

"It's sleeping on my bed in a pile of ruined sheets. It's slimy."

"She probably needs a bath," Kendra replied dryly.

"I'm supposed to do that?"

"Do you remember your promise to me?"

"Oh," Derek said, remembering the spit swear.

"Yeah... Oh. As part of that promise, you gave me your word that you would take care of your gryphon."

Derek nodded. "Alright, fine. How do I bathe a gryphon?"

"Very carefully."

Derek shook his head, wondering why he had bothered to come to her in the first place. He should have assumed that she wouldn't help. "Thanks," he muttered, turning to leave.

She grabbed his arm. "The hatchling is tiny. You have to make sure that she feels safe. Let her get comfortable first. The best way to do that is with food. She probably tore apart your cabin trying to find some. Make yourself as small as you can, feed her, and, when she finally relaxes, bathe her. But, don't freak her out by throwing her in a tub of water. Grab some rags from your bed, wet them, and clean her with those. Then, try to get some sleep. Now that you'll be taking care of a hatchling, you won't get the chance too often."