Griffins Don't Respect Bouncies' Returns Policy
Jordan recognised the griffin waiting outside the chicken cage as she stepped out, holding three dead hens by the neck; his chest had that unmistakeable stripe of velvet-black feathers among the russet.
"Y'know, Cooper," she said, "the whole point of the orphanage was you learned to hunt for yourself." She stared at him meaningfully then sighed, picked out the smallest hen, and threw it to him.
Fantasy; 1156 words; first published 29th June 2020 at Toasted Cake 239 →; podcasted 29th June 2020 at Toasted Cake 239 →