Ifonsa stilled.

She suspected they were being hunted. Until she knew for certain, she would keep it to herself to avoid concerning the others.

They were two days out from Tarburh. She had led them due south passed Sifield, before eventually turning eastward.

There had been no sign of their pursuers at all since Tarburh. Perhaps Ganthe had been mistaken, or their ruse with the barge had worked. Either way it had cost them too many of their coins.

Tonight they had planned to light a fire, and Ifonsa would see if she could find anything to hunt. That would now not happen. She dreaded telling them.

Already their food was running low again. They had done a little foraging, and Ifonsa had offered to hunt, but Heric kept pressing her to keep moving instead. Even with severe rationing their food situation was dire.

The fish and meat had been eaten within a day, and most of the fruit and nuts were gone by morning. Only the salted plums (which uniquely Ganthe relished) and a handful of cobnuts remained. That would need to last them until they reached Harnsey, which was at least another day’s walk away.

She had led them along game trails and occasionally over the narrow roads, that criss-crossed between the scattered settlements. This area wasn’t heavily populated, beyond the area near the river. That proved to be fortunate. They agreed it would be unwise to tempt Lady Ledh again, and have Ganthe purchase food at any of the hamlets or villages they saw.

In Tarburh on market day, he was just one face amongst the crowd. Yet even he acknowledged that had almost gotten him caught, despite the radical change of clothing (no doubt stolen). To wander into any of the smaller settlements would undoubtedly attract attention, and if the witch or her followers visited someone would inevitably mention it.

No, it was better that they went hungry for a few days. Of course, that didn’t stop Falduin from complaining. About many things. Not just about the lack of, and quality of, the food, but also the hardness of the ground, when they stopped to sleep; and the bugs. However, what he complained most about was his blanket, and how heavy it was to carry.

Yet, he ultimately got caught by his own game. This morning, after straining for an hour - and complaining loudly about it - he gallantly offered the blanket to Lera.

“So you can have a restful night sleep,” he’d said.

Lera had rejected it. She told him she was wearing almost her entire worth in armour and weapons, and couldn’t possibly afford to pay him. So Falduin offered it to her as a gift.

“But how will I carry it?” Lera had asked. For some irrational reason she refused to drop the axe she had found. She carried it proudly, sometimes even cradling it in her arms like a newborn.

“I will carry the axe for you,” Falduin declared.

“Very well. I accept your gift. Thank you very much.”

Less than half-an-hour later Falduin was complaining about the weight of the axe. It proved to be much heavier than the blanket, although less bulky and awkward to carry.

“I’ll swap with you,” Lera had offered.

So Falduin ended up carrying the blanket that he had given away so he wouldn’t have to carry it. Now he wouldn’t get to use it despite carrying it. It amused Ifonsa no end.

Serves him right, she thought.

They had trekked through a valley for most of the day. It led through a pair of long hills, that marked the start of the Uplands. Whitebeams grew on both slopes, their canopy clustered with small white flowers. Brooks and creeks wound their way amongst the trunks to merge with the stream cutting through the valley, dense with small boulders and rocks. Behind the trees on the right-hand slope, a sheer cliff stretched up a hundred or so paces with a thick covering of dogwood atop it.

They were strung out in a line, across a fifty paces or so. Both Falduin and Lera had their heads lowered in weariness, as they stumbled after Ifonsa. Heric too looked tired, but he kept his wits, casting his eye about in search for trouble. Ganthe’s gaze remained as much behind as forward.

It was the calm that first alerted her. Wrynecks and other woodpeckers flew about, but not as many as she expected. And where were the robins and wrens? There was no sign of scat near the water. No scent markings from lynxes.

Initially she just shrugged it off as an unusual feature of this part of the world. She had travelled widely and there were many places where the natural order was askew. Yet as the sun neared the horizon, the shadows lengthening across their path, she became more concerned. Where were the eagles and other birds of prey? She hadn’t seen any sign of them for hours. On a warm day they’d be soaring overhead, yet there was nothing.

Then soon after the whitebeams came to an abrupt halt, replaced by sporadic brush, a cascade of rocks tumbled down the cliff face. The avalanche halted long before even a pebble reached anywhere near their group. The rocky debris lining the valley suggested that such incidents were common enough, but Ifonsa’s suspected that someone or something lurked atop the cliff.

Her initial thought was bandits or goblins, but the more she thought about it, the less certain she became. They had passed plenty of places further along the valley that offered better vantages. The cliff was too high and too steep for foot soldiers to negotiate easily, and too distant for archers.

Also, goblins would never be so careless. They were ruthless with regard to mistakes, their leaders cutting down their own even over minor infractions. They were brutal, efficient warriors. Ifonsa had fought them many times, and on several occasions it had almost cost her life. No. This is not where any goblin would attack. Had the bandits somehow gotten ahead of them?

She kept a watch on the cliff, hoping to see any signs of movement, but there was nothing. Not even the wind, and none of the birds dared to fly near it.

She slowed so that the others could bunch up. It would lessen the opportunities to pick them off.

As they neared a grove of hawthorns, bursting with new growth, the birds disappeared altogether. Only the groups footsteps and the jingling of their armour broke the tense silence.

Ganthe suddenly raced ahead passing the others at a run. He stopped before the nearest hawthorn and plucked a new leaf, stuffing it into his mouth before grabbing for more.

“What are you doing?” Ifonsa asked, keeping her voice low.

“They’re delicious,” Ganthe said.

“I know, but-“

“Don’t!” Lera cried.

Ganthe’s hand stopped, just as he was about to pluck a bud from the tree.

Lera raced up, puffing hard. “Ill luck finds those that harm the lightning tree,” she declared.

“It’s in bloom,” Ganthe said plucking the bud, and stuffing it in his mouth. “Bread and cheese.”

“Not until after the Spring Erbinlan.”

“Which was two days ago.”

“The full moon marks when the hawthorn blooms. That is more than a week away.”

Ganthe paused mid-chew. Then snorted and said, “Nonsense. You got the dates wrong.”

“Such surety from someone that didn’t know what month it was until recently.”

“Well I know now. I even know the day,” he swallowed and stuffed more leaves into his mouth. “Twenty-first.” He grinned at Ifonsa.

Ifonsa refused to meet his eye, instead turning to scour the cliff.

“Isn’t it?” Ganthe asked.

“It’s the twenty-second, you idiot,” Falduin said finally catching up to them.

“What’s wrong?” Heric asked Ifonsa as he joined them.

“I don’t know,” she said, scanning the area.

“The rockfall?”

She nodded, stringing her bow.

“Weapons ready!” Heric cried, readying his sword.

“What?” Falduin asked, as Ganthe said, “Huh?”

Lera immediately dropped her axe and readied her spear. She turned to protect their rear.

“What’s happening?” Falduin asked.

Ifonsa only caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. A streak of white fur and brown feathers, Then something large smashed into the hawthorn tree Ganthe had been dining on. Wood splintered, the leaves and flowers erupting into a cloud, as the beast scrabbled to slow it momentum, sliding to Ifonsa’s left.

Her hand was already notching the arrow in her hand, as the griffon grabbed at Ganthe with its talon.

The little man leapt, but not fast enough. One of the claws raked across Ganthe’s chest sending him sprawling. Ifonsa heard him land heavily, screaming in pain.

Ifonsa drew back her bowstring just as the griffon unfurled its wings, leaping into the air. However, the left wing didn’t extend its full length. It was lame. The beast tried to fly, but it slewed to its left, rolling precipitously.

She released. The arrow flew straight, plunging into the griffon’s right shoulder. It screeched in pain and plummet back to earth with a loud crash. Ifonsa was already notching another arrow.

Heric raced forward, bringing his heavy sword down upon the creatures rear flank. It bit deeply, the white fur marred by its black blood.

The griffon screeched as it twisted around, like a cat, to confront its attacker. Only then did Ifonsa notice that the beast’s right eye was missing, and the reek of decay. She could smell the putrescence even from this distance.

Lera was screaming something, but the beast had Ifonsa’s complete attention.

Heric darted in between the talons and thrust his sword deeply into the griffon’s breast.

The griffon tried rending Heric with its beak, but he stepped close and then twisted his blade. A loud shriek rang out, as it arched back exposing its throat.

Just at that moment, the setting sun streaked through the leaves to get into her eyes. The whining of mosquitoes filled her ears.

Ifonsa loosed her arrow. It plunged up to the fletching into the griffon’s neck, silencing its cries.

Heric withdrew his sword. Dark ichor gushed from the wound, as he stepped back. The griffon teetered then toppled over onto its right side.

“No! No! No!” Lera cried over the insect sounds.

Ifonsa squinted at the priestess expecting her to be keening over Ganthe, but instead Lera raced toward the griffon. Heric stepped in the way stopping her.

“It’s still alive,” Heric told her.

“I can save it,” Lera said trying to push past.

“Save it?”

“Eagles are sacred to my order.”

“It’s not an eagle.”

“It once was,” Lera said. “Now allow me to pass,” she demanded with such authority that Heric stepped out of her way.

Despite the sunlight in her eyes, Ifonsa kept her bow trained upon the griffon’s head, as Lera knelt beside the beast. If it moved so much as a thumb she would loose her arrow, whether Lera approved or not.

Yet the griffon was barely able to breathe. She could hear it wheezing, and making a gurgling noise in its throat.

“Falduin,” Heric called.

Lera reached out to place her open palm upon the beast’s breast.

“Falduin!”

“What?” Falduin said between clenched teeth.

“I need you help with Ganthe.”

“Oh.”

The sun dipped behind a branch and the mosquitoes blew away on the wind.

“Lower your bow,” Lera told her. “You’re scaring it.”

“Good. It scares the willies out of me.”

“It’s about to die. Let it pass gracefully. Lower your bow, Ifonsa.”

Ifonsa lowered her bow, and returned her arrow to its quiver, as she moved to join Lera.

The stench from the griffon’s rotting wing and vacant eye almost turned Ifonsa’s stomach. The wounds were weeks old, and had never fully healed.

The griffon shifted its remaining eye to regard her. Tears leaked from its duct, rolling down its feathers.

“It was hungry, that is all,” Lera said. “It was injured and could no longer hunt properly.”

Ifonsa realised why the valley had felt so odd. “It hunted this area out.”

“Yes. I think it has been here a long time.”

“Are you going to heal it?”

“No. It is too injured, and the gift of life is beyond my power.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Offer it comfort and guide its soul to the heavens.”

“Soul?”

“Of course, all eagles have souls.”

Then Lera closed her eyes, and softly she began to chant. Ifonsa did not understand the words, but the song was filled with sadness, loss, and lament, but also hope. She felt tears running down her cheeks, but she did not brush them away.

“There. It is done,” Lera said standing. “Not let’s see how Ganthe is.”

Lera left Ifonsa staring at the dead griffon, it’s lifeless pale-blue eye staring back at her.