by Colin Forest
“Genevieve,” she called out.
She felt a surge of joy, and knew that her call was answered. A dark shape passed overhead. Wheeling in the air, it descended in ever tightening spirals and landed lightly, the impact seemingly soft and barely noticeable. Its stern-looking eyes and proud bearing were as Isabella remembered them.
“Genevieve. My dear Genevieve,” she said.
She brought her face close to the feathered head.
“Sasha’s dead and I had to let Thorn go. I’ve been hurt and I wouldn’t have been able to take care of the two of you. Oh, how I worried for you. I thought that I was lost. But someone cared for me, nursed me when he didn’t have to. You would like him, and I know he would like you. How could he not like you? Still, we must leave this place and find a new home. And I must take care of myself first. Make myself all better.”
She climbed atop Genevieve and ran her fingers through the feathers, ruffling them playfully.
“Then, we have a new quarry to hunt,” she said, and her eyes grew steely. “A greatly wicked man.”
She put her hands around Genevieve’s neck. Then, the griffin spread her wings and leapt into the air, disappearing into the clouds that now pelted the earth with rain.
“Well, boy, it seems like we’re stuck together,” said Titus.
He tickled the rhinoceros’s ear, which flicked back and forth.
“Isabella said I could give you a new name. Would you like that?” he asked.
The sound of distant thunder came rolling over the horizon.
“Hear that? Isn’t that like the sound of your thundering hooves?”
A thought struck Titus. “I think … I think I’ve found a new name for you. An apt name, … my beautiful Brontide.”
A sudden cry caused Titus to turn his head to the sky. It was a high-pitched cry which clove the sound of the rolling thunder like a knife. There was nothing that Titus could see, but he thought for a moment, that he imagined the sound of beating wings.
The End
