Holiday Stress
I place a talon against the door and push it open, stumbling back slightly as a blast of cold air blows in from outside and causes me to shiver at the chill that spreads across my feathers and fur as the door slams shut once more. Bracing myself this time, I reach up again to push the door open and walk out of my house.
Autumn's end came quite abruptly. Nearly an entire month earlier than usual and with no warning whatsoever, it felt like winter forced its way into Griffinstone almost overnight. Yet again, I wouldn't be surprised if it was just my friend Gideon feeling guilty about accidentally skipping a scheduled snow flurry last week and preparing a jimhickey of a snowsquall last night to make up for it. Or maybe he's testing the clouds' denting surfaces to prepare the weather for the festival this week. Either way, the aftereffects were pretty visible: long, sharp icicles hanging from many buildings' rickety rooftops, ankle-deep snow coating large sections of the streets, and dry leaves and mud scattered around the sidewalks. I just hope the cold wind doesn't make its way through the contents of my saddlebag.
Despite the sun having barely risen yet, a few Griffons walk through the streets pulling carriages, or setting up stands, or carrying wood for the fireplace. Few of them even take note of my presence and nod or salute in my direction as a formal greeting and I warily nod in return. Fourteen or so years later and my friends and I still haven't fully adjusted to the way many citizens want to treat us. While it certainly feels better than how it was a decade ago, it feels alien and uncomfortable. I wonder if Guto felt like that when he was still king, before he…
I quickly shake my head off my thoughts and keep walking. The Blue Moon Festival is around the corner and we've finally convinced the town to give the traditions a chance. This is no time to grieve. But… What if it's not good enough? What if the celebration turns out to be a disaster and nogriff ever gives the holiday a chance? Will we be able to try again next year should the festival fail?
It's bad enough having most creatures thinking of us as a sorrowful, greedy race lusting for gold and treasure, without even taking a moment to think of what we've been through. I could clearly see the dolefulness in Gruffy's -his name is actually "Gruff", but that's what we call him- eyes when the idea was proposed again. But, he immediately brushed it off, saying that "we'd have a good time" and that "the festival was our chance to prove to other species that us Griffons are capable of having a good time."
But we all know it's not really what we're thinking about right now. This isn't about our status as a species. It's about putting the past behind us and letting go of our troubles. And… It's the first real festival we've had in years since he attacked. And maybe, just maybe, it can be just the boost my future brother-in-law needs to stop his nasty tendency to repress his feelings when he's hurting. The festival has to be perfect.
"Just tell me where it is, dude!"
"Well, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about!"
I look up at the sound of the familiar voices, then downwards as I realise that I've reached my destination: a large, hollowed oak tree. I still remember the day we designated it as an "educational institution" for the cubs. Gilbert insisted on naming it "Owlet Oak", saying that it "symbolises the hope of shaping young Griffon minds and helping them gain the knowledge of owls and become little 'owlets' themselves. The rest of us went along with it because it was the coolest sounding name we had found. Overtime, it also became something of a local hangout, at least for us.
I toss my bangs away from my face before flying to a branch and setting my haunches on a cushion that had been placed there for me weeks ago, simultaneously wrapping my tail around the bough. We usually sit on the tree's branches rather than the interior, which helps keep an eye around. But, as the tree itself may be older even than the six of us, we're prepared just in case.
I look around at each of my friends; Gareth and Gyeong, whose red and dark brown palletes make sharp contrast with their comparingly bright-coloured scarves and gloves, are heckling each other over what appears to be a checkerboard. Must have been another game.
But why are they so worked up about it? It's all in good stride, isn't it?
Gruffy, who, at times, is as much of a vulture personality-wise as he is in terms of appearance, is arguing with Gilbert, whose feathers are only a few shades darker than the snow around him, over a goo powder canister that he lost a few months ago.
What? I thought he was over it, sheesh.
And Gideon looks like he's going to fall asleep right then and there. Even his fur and feathers seem more grey than usual. He must've been tired from the snowsquall process.
In that moment, it dawns on me that I'm not the only one caught up to the holiday stress. Usually, Gruffy takes the lead, but I step in. "Ahem. Morning," I say blantly, in hopes to break the arguments.
Thankfully, it manages to do the trick as my friends stop their shouting and mumble their own 'morning's'. "You were saying?"
A long pause follows my words, but not because I actually need the extra time to contemplate what I'm going to say. It's because I want to make my friends uncomfortable with the awkward silence. As I expected, they're less than thrilled to continue arguing.
"Sorry," Gruffy apologises, putting a claw on his head. "That was really uncalled for."
"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Gilbert adds, then turns to Gideon and lightly taps him on the shoulder, snapping the grey Griffon back to reality.
"I'm sorry," Gareth says, his ears drooping.
"Me too," Gyeong says. "Guess this whole thing with the festival has been getting to us."
"It's natural for all of us to feel stressed. The last few years haven't been the kindest to us and it's the first time we've had a festival like this in a long time. But we've all done our best and I'm sure everygriff will love it." I try to sound as comforting for my friends as I possibly can, to assure them that everything will be alright. Perhaps, hearing it out loud will make me believe it myself.
My friends look away sadly, though I can't tell if it's because they're really that down in the dumps or if they're just not sure how to respond.
"Gonsod is right, fellas," Gruffy says after a while. "Everything will be fine. We've given it our all and that's what's important. Even if it's not perfect, it'll still be worthwhile."
Hearing my vulture-like friend's confident tone after so long is enough to make us all crack small grins and exchange hopeful looks. That's my soon-to-be brother-in-law, y'all!
"Well, I may not be a genius like Gareth or Gyeong, but I might have something that will help lift up our spirits."
My friends look curiously as I shuffle through my bag for a moment, before turning back and presenting a little surprise: a small box with six cups of hot cocoa.
"A little something to help us decrease our anxiety." I can already see my friends' faces lighting up as I serve each their own cup. "And to complement our beverage…"
I open my bag full to reveal a couple of carrot muffins. My friends smile in gratitude. "Made with fresh carrots from my garden. Gluten-free, of course."
Yeah, I always need to clarify this with Gareth around.
I extend my bag for my companions to help themselves, then raise my cup, clearing my throat for a toast. "To us protecting Griffinstone!"
"Here here!" Gyeong adds in.
We all knock their cups together and each of us raises his own steaming cup to his beak, then all begin sipping without a care in the world. We all start smiling as the taste of fresh cocoa dances across our tongues and fills our bellies -or, at least, mine- with a warm feeling. I even hear a few giggles. After months of anxiety and worry, it feels good seeing my friends smile again.
"¡En momentos como este, parece como si el café viniera del cielo!"
Even after decades, I still find myself confused by Gilbert's Spanish. He usually does this when he's happy or angry, but right now, I'll assume that it's a compliment. Suddenly, I feel a hand resting on top of my shoulder.
"This is just what we needed. Thanks, Gons," Gruffy says as he smiles at me with his big, fangy smirk and I can't help but smile back.
"Anytime."
The festival will go well. I know it will. And it doesn't need to be perfect, just the best we can do. One of the first things we were taught in the royal guard is that integrity and hard work will always be rewarded. Plus, we've got each other, and we'll be alright. Even if the last few years have really taken a toll on us, as long as we're together, we'll always heal and find ways to bounce back up.
I do hope it'll be good enough to help Gruffy open up more, though.