A True Griffon

by The Screeching Finch

Fountain Rules

Once it was day, Aloysius left his makeshift nest he had used for the night. Just like it was common knowledge that homeless fledglings had to find shelter for a night, so too was the fact to never use the same spot. That asked for being beaten down, and having the spot stolen.

Aloysius sighed. All he wanted to do was clean himself of the dust and pebbles that still caked his feathers and fur. The best path to take was through the less obvious alleys of the shacks of the slums. As Aloysius weaved around the narrow niches of ineptly built houses, his mind kept going back to recent events.

I hit him so many times... Aloysius shuddered as he recalled the rough fight. It was enough for him to put a claw onto his precious scarf, that priceless possession, that powerful incentive to fight as if it were his own life. However, the moment of reflection over the value his only attire had was painfully cut off by a wince from his beak.

With a glance at the source - his claw's knuckles - Aloysius saw the tears that marred his dusty claw. After a quick glance around, he held up his claw to look at what bothered him. Tiny, bloody cuts had gathered around his fist. Clearly, they had been unnoticed (fighting like a vicious animal certainly tired him out), when he had gone to sleep.

The sight didn't startle Aloysius much. After witnessing enough fights, and finally participating in one, he wasn't sure how to feel about the way blood dried on someone. Yet his claw had captured his attention as easily as the prospect of a meal had. The simple, minute detail that he also had come out of the fight with a wound, despite the mere volume of it, confused him so much, that it made Aloysius take a brief moment to ponder.

Lost something.Then, he felt his feathers ruffle. His feathers stood on end. His wings shifted, as if they weren't comfortable. But there was nothing wrong! Not even a tiny thorn in his paw's pads. With a disgruntled grunt, Aloysius forced himself back into a quick pace; he knew where he wanted to go.

Even if it was difficult to go away from the blood - the blood of himself, and the carrion.

---

The Fountain. There wasn't much to think about the Fountain, except for the obvious. The Fountain had water. The Fountain had shade. The Fountain even had rules!

Rules were thought the same way as laws were, to Griffonstone - laws were ignored. However, the plain, dull, gray stone structure that managed to spurt water from its smooth, bowl top, and fill with murky liquid in the circular, rocky bottom, somehow managed to have rules. The Fountain had order, in the anarchic city.

Aloysisu knew the rules, just like every homeless fledging did. Never bathe in it. The last time he saw one poor bird attempt such a futile action, they had been beaten until they didn't move. As he passed a few griffons prowling about the area, another unspoken law came to mind. Don't bloody the water. The Fountain was safe, and it only asked of two, tiny tasks that even a fledgling could carry out.

Around three or four griffons were near the Fountain, all with a common goal they would never work together for. Drinking more than a few muddy puddles on the ground. With a small pounce, Aloysius quietly leaped onto the edge of the stony wall of the Fountain.

A reflection was what presented itself to the thirsty child. Just like his torn knuckle, it made Aloysius stop in place, and stare. Two, gleaming, red eyes greeted him. Eyes that saw how it looked to beat down a carrion. To hurt one for the sin of even remotely thinking that his scarf would be taken away. Aloysius felt his tail flick sharply as he growled, despite the hitch it had. A few of the fledglings around glanced at the angry Aloysius with wary eyes, but left him be. Luckily, the growl warded off the uncomfortable feelings that someone else knew what he did - even if only he knew that only he knew - and now, the blurry image of a muddy, dusty griffon was for his viewing pleasure.

Aloysius dipped his claws into the murky water, cringing at how it felt. Despite it being less slimy than mud, there still felt like something else was in the water; it was a battle to even touch the liquid. With a sharp inhale of breathe, Aloysius quickly cupped his claws under his beak, and drank it down. Once it was all gone, he retched. This shit will kill me before someone else does...

It took a couple of repeated drinks - all of which he swore would kill him inside-out - until Aloysius felt satisfied. Or fed up. Either feeling suited him. Unable to help himself, he glanced at his knuckles. Still, the terrible sight of his torn knuckles greeted him. There was a solution to this. Aloysius didn't want reminders of the carrion; the nuisance of cut knuckles had transcended beyond his patience.

Aloysius, just the previous day, had been willing to use - and abuse - force to protect his scarf. Surely, simply cleaning off a cut would be just as worth it. After all, it was his pain he could fix. The carrion's pain meant nothing to him. Aloysius plunged his claw into the fountain, and rubbed his other claw's talons along his knuckles - the Fountain law had been broken.

The sigh of relief Aloysius would had uttered was cut off by a loud shrill from a fledgling nearby. They were in the same condition as Aloysius: hungry, skinny, young, and at the mercy of the world and other griffons. The fledgling almost looked like the Fountain, even. Their feathers were a dull, boring grey, and the loin half of them was just as boring - black. However, their talons and beak proved to be a bit more thought-provoking, considering they had a very dark mix of blue and brown to them.

With a loud hiss, the Fountain-colored griffon yelled, "Stop it right now! What do ya think ya doing'!" Their feathers stood on end at the thought that one of the precious rules were being broken. The other two fledglings watched, wondering if this was a time to fight yet; water was precious to them.

Aloysius was already emboldened with two, terrible, rebellious acts. He growled loudly, and yelled back, "Ah do whatevah the hell Ah want!" He flung his claws out of the Fountain, splattering water over the Fountain griffon. His mind wandered to the first time he had denied a griffon - that had ended with pain for him - so he extended his talons, and yelled again. "Ah don't get told by griffons like you!"

The Fountain griffon opened their beak to yell back at him, but Aloysius stopped the entire argument with his fist. He smashed it against the top of their head. The pure shock stopped the other two griffons in their place; no rule-breaker ever had such courage, even if that courage was certain death.

Aloysius grabbed the Fountain griffon by their neck, and tossed them into the unforgiving ground. The poor fledgling wanted to run, and let Aloysius break the rules at this point, but sadly, Aloysius had other plans. Plans that stemmed from the rage of being ordered around.

He hopped down, grabbed the back of their head, and slammed it into the wall of the Fountain. "AH DO WHAT I FUCKING WANT!" He emphasized the point by ramming their beak into the wall. Aloysius breathed heavily, feeling his chest - which had every feather on end - heave as he glared at the other griffons. He yelled, "HEAR ME? AH WILL WASH MY DAMN CLAWS IF I WANT, SHITBAGS!" He swung his claw upwards, letting it slam across the Fountain griffon's beak. The other two hissed, and ran at the threat of danger.

He glared around, then looked at the fledgling. They were crying heavily, and clutching their beak tightly. The wall had a bloody print from the blood Aloysius had drawn, and a few tiny pieces of their beak had chipped off from the assault.

The assault he had caused. The blood Aloysius had drawn. The attack he had started.

More blood... Aloysius turned and ran before any other griffons could threaten him for breaking the Fountain rules. Tears were held back as he fled. Aloysius didn't care that he broke the Fountain rules. He broke the Fountain griffon instead.