Wolf Iron

Chapter 21 / Welcome to Edgard

An explosion of light. A watery pressure on his eardrums. Stomach in his chest. And the swelling of forest music. 

Rodney Chang awoke within the gentle and ebbing wake of a waterfall, the corona of the sun imprinted in his vision, letting him know that even when his eyes were closed, he could still see. An arm was pulling him through the frothy waves of the fall's finish, a physical force exerting inertia on another in a body of essence that disagreed with gravity or anything else that made sense. A physical force that brought forth, through the froth and folly, the fulcrum of his freedom. A release into a different world. 

The tree had indeed fallen. 

Quinn, coughing and sputtering, pulled Rodney up on the bank of the watering hole and then collapsed beside him. Rodney, upon a bed of round and smooth river rubble, felt his throat, his extremities, everything he had ever laid bodily claim to his entire life, just to make sure they were still there.

Wasn't it just night? He looked around him. It was the Valry Thicket all right. 

But the sky was clearer. Too clear for a dreary English day. Not blighty enough. But perhaps it was  just everything seemed a beautiful sight to him, he had almost died. 

Or did I? He felt a cool wave lap his hip. Was any of that day actually real? 

He felt warm fingers in his left hand and looking over he saw Quinn lying next to him, staring up at the blue, blue sky. 

"Quinn..." 

He squeezed her hand gently.

"Are you okay?" 

She said nothing and got to her feet. 

"We've got to get you to the King's Castle. Come." 

Rodney had never felt more like Quinn's protector. 

"Quinn, enough of this. We've got to get you to a hospital where you can get the help that you need. Your father-" 

Just then, Rodney spotted out the corner of his eye something small and something furry. The next thing he heard was a flap of wings as it sailed past his head and over the watering hole and landed on the opposite edge of the water's edge. 

"What the hell is that?" He jumped back and fell against the stone bed, heartbeat racing and his eyes not quite sure of what they were seeing. 

 "That? That's a griffincat, of course."

Rodney blinked twice. There it stood on a rock, something that looked like a cat standing on a rock and preening itself. But cats don't preen themselves, do they?

It had the body of a cat with alert and upturned ears but with hawk-like wings attached to its backside. Long whiskers protruded out from a sharp and golden beak and its tail was plumed with white feathers.

"Or a whiskerwing as some people are meant to call them." Quinn straightened her back and threw off her wet jumper. "But then again, I ascertain that it is up to the individual what they want to label things."

Rodney still had his mouth wide open, staring at the creature.

Quinn pulled Rodney up and the griffincat screeched an eagle-like cry. 

"Oh stop it. It's not going to harm you. Come on then."

She walked to the water's edge and scanned the surface. 

"Do you remember anyone following us?" 

Rodney's mouth was open but bore no words.

"Randolph! Do you remember anyone falling behind us?"