Elara woke up to the distinct, highly unpleasant smell of burnt feather.
It was mid-morning. She was carefully grinding bitter leaves into a fine, antiseptic powder (the closest thing she had to an antibiotic) when the Lion den suddenly erupted into a cacophony of snarls, roars, and the terrified bleating of pack animals. The sound wasn't the ground-based terror of the Wolf attack; this was coming from above.
Zian, the simple but loyal Lion guard, let out a distressed bellow right outside her cave. "Sky-Rider! The Storm-Claws are here!"
Elara grabbed her bone needle kit. Oh, perfect. Just when I thought I had the local power structure figured out—grounded, territorial Lion vs. sneaky, tactical Wolf—now we're introducing the aerial component. I sincerely hope they aren't carrying bombs.
She scrambled out of her cave and nearly lost her footing on the slick rock. The sight that greeted her was magnificent, terrifying, and utterly baffling.
A creature of breathtaking scale—a Storm Griffin—was circling overhead. It was a massive beast, easily the size of a small Cessna, with bronze-feathered wings that spanned the width of the oasis and talons that could easily rend steel. It was currently swooping low, not attacking the Lions, but simply terrorizing them, ripping down their drying hides and sending bursts of powerful, chaotic air currents through the den.
The Griffin was followed by a cluster of slightly smaller, but equally imposing figures who seemed to be a blend of human form and massive, feathery plumes. These were the Storm Griffin beastmen, and they were descending with the reckless, arrogant abandon of beings who owned the sky.
And at the center of the chaos, perched precariously on a jagged peak of rock, was their Alpha.
Zev, the Storm Griffin.
Unlike Kaelen's grounded, heavy presence or Roric's silent shadow, Zev was pure, kinetic energy. He was tall and lean, covered in powerful muscle, but draped in layers of dark, aerodynamic leather and dense, bronze-tipped feathers. His hair was streaked white, as if perpetually wind-swept, and his eyes were a piercing, stormy blue. He carried a hooked, curved blade designed for fighting in mid-air.
He looked utterly furious, volatile, and profoundly bored by the Lions' territorial protests.
Kaelen, predictably, was incandescent with rage. He burst from his lair, naked save for his minimal leather skirt, roaring challenges into the sky.
"Sky-Scavenger! Why do you foul the air of the Lion's Spring! Return to your cliffs!" Kaelen roared, his voice thick with territorial indignation.
Zev scoffed, the sound sharp and crystalline, carried clearly on the wind.
"I heard a noise, Kaelen. A great, pathetic noise about a prize you captured. I came to see if the boast matched the dust. And what do I find? A hairless insect you have caged."
Zev tilted his head, his stormy gaze sweeping across the den until it landed directly on Elara. For a moment, his fierce eyes softened with a strange mixture of fascination and protectiveness.
Possessiveness Meter reading: Griffin, 11/10. Because, of course, the Griffin immediately assumes the Lion's prize should be his.
Kaelen's growl intensified, his massive body tensing. "The human is mine, Zev. She is not for viewing. Fly away before I drag you back down to the dust!"
Zev let out a short, high-pitched, mocking laugh. "You cannot drag me, Kaelen! And this creature… she is too soft for your rough hands. She smells of the earth, not the storm. She should be safe among the clouds. The Lion's den is slow and full of fleas."
The Griffin Alpha launched himself from the rock and glided down, landing directly on the lip of the sacred spring, desecrating Kaelen's holy water with his dusty leather boots.
"I will take her," Zev announced, as casually as if asking for a cup of coffee. "She is clearly not built for the dust and the heat. She will be far more comfortable in my aerie, away from your heavy scent and heavy rules."
Three Alphas, One Target
Elara watched the interaction, calculating the risk. Lion = Protection/Possession. Wolf = Strategy/Control. Griffin = Freedom/Impulsive Theft.
This was no longer a Lion-Wolf skirmish; it was a three-way, elemental power struggle, and she was the shiny, fragile MacGuffin everyone wanted.
Kaelen lunged, a massive, golden streak of fury. "Get off my spring, Griffin!"
Zev, nimble and light, sprang into the air, dodging Kaelen's swipe with infuriating ease. He used the momentum of his jump to shift, his human form briefly melting into the magnificent, bronze-feathered beast, before he landed back on the rock in his beastman form, laughing.
"You are slow, Kaelen! You fight like you are buried in sand!"
As the two Alphas engaged in a furious, leaping, earth-shaking brawl, Elara saw her opportunity. She needed leverage, and the Griffin was, paradoxically, the most stable—and most dangerous—new element.
Suddenly, a loud, high-pitched scream cut through the din. One of the younger Griffin warriors, clumsy in his landing, had clipped his wing on a jutting rock, tearing several primary feathers and exposing a raw, bloody tendon. He was howling, not in pain, but in sheer, primal distress—a wounded wing was a death sentence for a Sky-Rider.
Zev froze instantly. The volatility in his eyes vanished, replaced by a desperate, protective concern. His fight with Kaelen ceased.
"Rhen!" Zev roared, dropping his blade and sprinting to his injured warrior.
Elara knew her moment. She stepped out of the shadows, her small human figure suddenly commanding the attention of all the warriors present.
"STOP!" she yelled, her voice thin but sharp. "Alpha Zev! If you want your warrior to fly again, you will listen to me! I am the only one who can save that wing!"
Zev looked up, his stormy blue eyes narrowed with furious suspicion. "What does the dirt-walker know of the Sky-Rider's wing?"
Elara pointed at the gash. "That is a full primary tendon tear. If it's not cleaned and stitched with specialized tension, he will never fly. And the feathers? They need a clean excision, or they will impede healing. Your 'moon-paste' won't do it. My technique will."
She held up her makeshift bone needle. "I am Elara Vance. I am the Weaver. I mend what claws tear. You want a flying warrior? Give me the patient, a secure area, and absolute silence!"
Kaelen, wiping dust from his face, watched this new power dynamic unfold with a complicated look of possessive frustration. His asset was working, but now it was attracting a dangerous new buyer.
Zev looked at the needle, then at Kaelen, then down at his terrified, bleeding warrior. The choice was immediate and brutal.
"Fine," Zev snapped, his voice tight with desperation. He glared at Kaelen. "You! Lion! Keep your filth away from my warrior while she works!"
Kaelen bristled, but the primal sight of the injured wing was universal. He was still the Alpha, and the new Alpha was demanding her services.
"She is my prisoner!" Kaelen declared, his voice a possessive rumble. "She is a commodity. Her work requires my permission!"
"Then I shall pay your price," Zev countered instantly, his gaze hard. "She heals my warrior, and I give you two of my finest hunting hawks and promise not to scavenge your northern trade route for a full cycle. Deal, Lion?"
The offer was too rich to refuse. Kaelen looked at Elara, then at the soaring hunting hawks, then at Zev's challenging face, and let out a defeated growl. "Done. But she sleeps in my den, Zev. Always."
The New Client
Elara was led to a secluded, high rock shelf where she could work on the Griffin. The air was cleaner, but the Griffin warriors were intensely suspicious, circling her like protective gargoyles.
As she began the incredibly delicate process of suturing the tendon—a process that would require an orthopedic surgeon on Earth—Alpha Zev hovered near her, looking utterly helpless.
"Why are your hands so rough?" he asked, watching her small hands move with intricate precision.
"Because I've been running from a cartel for five days and wrestling with a Lion Alpha for two," she muttered, tying a knot. "And because I do manual labor for a living."
"I do not trust you, dirt-walker," Zev confessed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "But if you save him, you will earn the protection of the Sky-Riders. We are loyal, if volatile."
"I'm counting on the volatility," Elara said, finally trimming the final suture and applying her bitter leaf paste. "It's easier to predict than the Lion's pride or the Wolf's silence. He needs rest, elevation, and no flying for at least six suns."
Zev stared at the expertly mended wing, then at Elara, a profound sense of awe replacing his anger.
"You… you fixed the wing," he whispered.
"I am the Weaver," Elara replied, standing up, feeling the immense physical and mental drain of the surgery. "And now I have three very powerful, very possessive, very irritating Alphas who either want to cage me, use me, or fly away with me. Your payment is rendered, Alpha Zev. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go deal with the two-hundred-pound problem who thinks he owns my bed."
She walked away, leaving the magnificent Storm Griffin Alpha speechless and utterly bewildered, his complex, aerial plan for retrieval having just been derailed by a human wielding a tiny bone needle.