Ran, Running, and Will Run By Maddiff Rel

A Memory Gained; But A Friend Lost

"Alright. That's it," Josh leads you on as you practiced mêlée sword combat, "Just swing a little harder and keep a strong, capable stance."

You can do both of those things. The only thing is, you can't do them both at one time, and you can't do either of them long. You are tired. You need rest, but you refuse. You are scared to fall asleep, and when you do, you would toss and turn and wake constantly. You are scared to because of your memories, because your memories are horrible, because they hurt to remember. They hurt in a way of remembering the pain and because they feel like they are being forced inside of your head. This felt like you aren't remembering at all but someone was giving them to you...

Many memories have come to you. One in particular has given you the most pain. You dread this memory, but even in the middle of a practice, you remember it and fall to your knees in pain: psychological and physical.

... ... ...

It was three months after you had fought the Griffin. The gash he left on you ribs was healing, but it wasn't healing fast enough. You were in a pitch-black cave, and your hands were bound together by a slimy, solidified substance. The gash hurt because it was being pulled apart every time you moved. This bindings had only been in place for a few hours, so you decided to try and use your magic. You tried to shake the solid bindings to their breaking point, but it was of no use. Your injured side forced you to hold back and wait. And that was excactly what you did.

After a few hours, the Griffin was back.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he said very slowly and mockingly, "You will need your rest if you are to escape."

You grunted, "Well, it is very difficult to fall asleep while being hung from the ceiling!"

"Hmm, if you don't want to sleep, I will have to put you to sleep myself." He pulled out a long, thin needle. It was a container of some sort that you had never seen before.

Now, pain drove a wielder of magic's magic insane. Therefore, your magic was so over the edge that you felt like you could and would literally explode if that needle pierced your skin.

Oooooh, crraaaaap. you said mentally.

You could clearly hear your skin tare as the needle was forced into the side opposite the gash. A purple liquid was forced from the tube into your ribcage.

Oooooooooohhh, crraaaaaaaaaapp. you felt it coming like a huge wave of water...

Your eyes glowed an unnatural red. The air around you decreased in pressure, and the gravity a few feet in all directions of you became lesser. Your magic repulsed with an unnatural force leaving nothing in its path. Once you broke from your bonds, it was over. That one little pinch of pain drove the pool of magic in your body up the walls.

The area around you returned to its original state. Your eyes became regular again: crystal blue, deep, starry, dark pupils, and the plain whiteness of the rest of your eye. You healed yourself. The gash on your side was nothing but a scar on your ribs now. Your long red hair was completely renewed. Your skin as good as knew, no scratches. Probably due to the tolerance and acceptance your body had to magic.

You returned to your senses, and you see the Griffin's limbs scattered into bits. Not even his head was left alone, being crushed and without form.

You walked out from the room (grossed out buy the carcus) and scavenge the area before leaving. You found your armor, sword, and some food.

This will be my keep until I can find Josh and Myron, you think to yourself, Maybe later I could look for Montigo... later.

Montigo was a friend of yours that you met shortly after being imprisoned here in the Griffin's lair. Montigo was a "servant" you could say, but he was more like prey. Flying monkeys were a rare delicacy among Griffins. They were all the more a rare sight to humans.

It was dark, and the world looked completely different from when you last saw it three months ago. The trees had grown at least two times as tall in the jungle. They had ten times as many vines holding to their limbs, and the ground was no longer a soft, glowing, green grass but a harsh, taller, pale green blanket.

"Montigo!" you shouted at the top of your lungs, "Montigo, where are you!"

You dashed through the woods shouting your friends name as you ran. He had been conspiring with you time and time again against the Griffin. You needed to tell him that the plans were not to take place, that you were free.

"Montigo! Montigo, can you here me!"

"You know, you can call, me Montie, right?" a shrill but muffled and familiar voice said while you were high in a tree and it was only a few feet from the ground.

"Montigo!" you say as you fell from the tree and landed safely on the ground.

"'Sup, Ave? Wait, how did you get out of your camber?" he asked intensly.

"He's gone! Isn't it great! Now we can go and find the temple, and you could come with me! Why don't you look happy? He's dead. Montigo, say something."

Montigo the flying monkey was standing on the ground with his head down, the hair that grew into a small bang on his forehead covering his eyes, "You're wrong. You have to burn a Griffin to kill them. Did you not notice a pattern in my plans?! They all ended in a burnt crisp of a Griffin corpse!"

ROOOAAAARRRR!!!!!!!

"YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE TO LIVE, LITTLE GIRL!" the Griffin said in complete and utter rage, "KILL. THE. MONKEY."

"Never!" you shouted back.

"So be it," his deep voice whispered in your right ear.

One slash to the right, to the left. Spin, jump, jab!

Deflect, dodge, counterattack, retreat!

The two of you battled for hours. The fight lasts until morning, and you are considering the alternative. Tears stream from your eyes, and you cry out in helplessness as his claws began to find the chinks in your armor and the openings in your attack patterns. Could you keep this up forever? Or could you at least do it longer than the Griffen? One misplaced slash or stab would get you killed. One bad footing would corner you. One single unblocked attack from the Griffen would end yours and Montigo's life. Why couldn't he let him live? One of the Griffen's attacks sent you flying across jungle, all the way by Montigo again.

"I know what you have to do," the voice startled you, "Make it back to your friends. This is suicide! KILL ME!"

"Montie--"

"DO IT, AEVA!!!!"

Your arm acted before you could tell it not to as a singled tear craved a hole in your cheek as it rolled down to your chin and fell to the ground. You stopped the blade just before it touched Montigo's forehead.

"Thank you, Montie....."

A pause and a quick shunk of metal on skull.

"Now you've come to your senses," the Griffin said, "You remember when I said you would live if you killed him? I ment you wouldn't die by my own hand. You will be punished for your crime. You are not to leave this jungle until you have served your time! Lest you be killed," he said before he vanished into thin air.

"......."

You couldn't say a word, and the shock had obliterated all tears that your eyes could have given.

So, the Griffen left you in a point between madness, sadness, and the want to save your friend in the last moments of his life. What you wouldn't give to have one last moment with the stupidly smart flying monkey.

... ... ...

"Aeva? Are you okay?" Josh and Myron say in unison.

"No. No, I am not okay," you say and walk off to your room, still remembering every bit of the pain in that one memory: phyisical and psychological.