Page 97 of Lore of the Tides

She couldn’t see his face because her back was to him—she could picture his frown in her mind’s eye. That natural frown of his would have deepened, turning farther down at the edges. “I’m kidding. Mostly. I’ll let you know, promise.”

“Get some rest; I’ll stay.”

Thankfully, the cramps were gone in the morning, and Pytheah led them to a stream. They refilled their water skins, and Lore bathed and washed the blood from her monthly cloth. She tacked it onto her pack to dry for use the next day.

Nothing like hiking in the desert and being on her monthlies.

Life was grand.

Chapter 32

The griffins’ wingbeats alone made Lore want to turn tail and run. She held her place crouched behind a boulder, surveying the nesting grounds. She shielded her eyes with a hand and squinted into the setting sun. There were at least a dozen nests filled with eggs and squawking fuzzy chicks the size of full-grown ponies. A swift breeze kicked up dust, and feathers the size of torches floated around her. A screeching call made Lore flinch backward, and she almost lost her footing and tumbled off the ledge. She shifted, holding on to the root of a large bush. Goddess, she prayed that the scent of her fear wouldn’t set them off.

She had no doubt they knew she was there. Shadows from griffins scouting from the sky had fallen over them as they climbed higher, each crest of the mountain closer to the nesting grounds. She just prayed they didn’t think she was there to steal their eggs or hurt their babies.

With a deep breath, she crawled out from behind the boulder and inched forward, keeping to the perimeter. Another ten feet closer, and she should be able to see every inch of the space.

A chittering alarm call erupted from one of the griffins, announcing her presence. Lore stiffened, holding her breath, but all they did was ruffle their feathers. A few sentries raised their wings, diggingrazor-sharp talons into the ground, and peered at her, their round dark eyes curious but wary.

But none took flight or lowered their head in warning.

Lore exhaled a shaky breath and chanced another few slow steps forward. A little more chittering, but none took flight.

The moment she could see every inch of the nesting grounds, she stilled.

Short, squat tree... berry bush... oddly shaped boulder... enormous bones of an animal picked utterly clean... sheer cliff face rising at their backs... there! A sliver of black amid the reddish-gold rock of the cliff.

The entrance to a cave!

Damn it. But there was a problem withwherethe opening was. Numerous nests surrounded the jagged maw of the cavern, and one particularly massive griffin was asleep on its nest, blocking the opening.

A curious griffin, a juvenile from the looks of it, cheeped (if you could call it a cheep, it wasso loud) and took a few steps toward her, the muscles in its lion body contracting with each step. It snapped its beak a few times, turning its head from side to side, watching her with glassy black eyes.

Lore retreated.

“I found what we are looking for,” she huffed, collapsing by the fire. Shemayhave run back to camp the moment she was out of that juvenile griffin’s sight.

Finndryl, who had been sharpening his sword, slid the weapon back into its sheath and placed it across a muscled thigh. “Welcome back. Any longer, and I was going to come find you.” He passed her the water skin. Lore thanked him as she grabbed it and began to take large swallows. “Remind me again why you insisted on scouting alone?”

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and handed the waterpouch back to him. “Because if anyone was going to become baby griffin food, I wanted it to beme.”

He huffed a sound of displeasure. “I figured it was something like that.”

Lore narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t argue with me.”

“They don’t usually attack unless provoked. And I’ve seen you under pressure. I know you can handle yourself.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “And yet, you were about to come searching for me.”

“I figured you had gotten lost,” he said as he handed her a cleaned stone with still-steaming rock hare and a few foraged mushrooms.

Lore scowled. “Their nest is only a few hundred feet up from here!”

Finndryl smirked. “Exactly.”

Lore rolled her eyes and took a giant bite of the rock hare. “Oh—that’s hot!” she said, huffing on the food, attempting to cool it down.

“Itjustgot done,” Finndryl said, his lips twitching upward. “Slow down.”