Part-Time Griffin

Height

Sitting alone in the quiet park is a griffin.
Yeah, that's me. Waiting underneath the trees like I do almost every single night.
Last night I had been mad at Walker, but I returned home feeling bad about all the heartless things I had said to Diesel.
Tonight is different though. Hopefully, we can rebuild the bond that was broken between us.
A few minutes later Walker, aka Diesel, lands a couple yards away. I happily greet him.
"How's it going?" I ask him with my unique griffin smile.
He sniffs the air and tells me nervously, "I think we need to start meeting at the sawmill instead. The park is too open and it can't hide us."
"Sure. That sounds like a better rendezvous place anyway." I reply trying to keep the mood light.
"So what should we do first? We're still trying to catch these bad guys, right? Or do you still think that I am one them?" Diesel asks me.
I snort, "No, please. Just let that go."
"I'll let it go once you tell me who you are." A smile slowly spreads across his dark face.
I swish my lion tail and reply to him, "I'll tell you when you let it go."
Before he can say anything more, I quickly say, "Let's head across town. I watched a bunch of people try to burn down town hall the other night. There's more than one person doing all these things. Five people to be exact."
He nods his head. The black mane that runs down the back of his neck flops back and forth as he nods. Then the jet black wings on his shoulders spread wide open.
"Come on. Let's get going." Diesel is about to turn away.
Shaking my head I speak nervously, "You keep a bird's eye view. I'll stay on the ground tonight."
"Thea, why do you not like flying?" My alicorn friend asks me randomly.
"Huh? What makes you think that?"
He stomps his hoof irritatedly, "When we flew together the other day you seemed reluctant and nervous. Plus, your flying wasn't really steady. There was a stiffness in the way you flapped your wings, as if you rarely ever flew."
My head lowers just slightly. A shameful feeling washes over me. Somehow Diesel had taken a good glance at me while we had been flying. What he says is true. It surprises me how he is able to guess these things.
Yes, I rarely ever fly. Correction: I don't fly, at all.
I turn away while mumbling, "We all have our problems."
Diesel steps in front of me to block my path, "Then let's confront this problem. Some of the things you told me last night got me thinking. We have too much talent to be afraid of our abilities."
I shrug my shoulders, "This doesn't have to do with talent or abilities."
"Why are you afraid of flying? Why does it disturb you?" He interrogates me.
"Because, I made a mistake one time. It happened while flying, and ever since then I've disowned anything that has to with those wings on my back." I sigh heavily with a slight edge of annoyance toward my wings.
"Let's fix this. You were given wings for some reason. How can you hate something that's part of you?" Diesel explains clearly.
"Hey, weren't you the one who said you disliked being a mythical alicorn?"
He shakes his head, "Forget about that. Since last night, I've personally resolved that problem. Now, tell me why you don't like flying."
I wait a few seconds wondering whether or not to tell him the true reason. A shudder goes through me when I finally decide to tell him. Bringing up my reason always makes me uneasy.
I begin with a small voice, "Three years ago, I was thirteen. My little sister was six at the time. She always knew what I was. She knew I could fly as well. The very thought of flight made her young imagination jealous. Constantly, she begged me to give her a small ride. Every time we spoke to each other she pleaded me to let her experience the sky."
My eyes turn up to the dark sky as I continue, "My thirteen year old self eventually got tired of the nagging, and I agreed to let her ride on my back. When we went flying that night, my sister was so excited to be on my back. Her tiny body easily sat between my wings. At first she held on tight, but she eventually lost her fear and thought it was just like riding a pony. She had previously had her arms wrapped around my neck, but she thought it was okay to let go. Before I could react or tell her to not let go, she slid off my back."
I can remember every detail. The weight on my back had disappeared and a child's scream erupted beneath me. I dove downward as fast as my wings allowed me to go. My own hawk-like screams burst from my chest as I saw the ground a few hundred feet below. With each passing millisecond we plummeted even closer toward the ground. Fear for my sister's life caused an extra burst of strength and adrenaline to surface. My talons reached out for her flailing arms.
I sigh as I tell Diesel the rest, "I caught my sister in time, but there wasn't enough time for me to regain my balance. I held onto her tightly as we crashed through the trees. The countless limbs softened the impact some. When I hit the ground... I thought that my sister... was dead. She survived though, but her leg was broken. My wing ended up being broken as well, and ever since then my wing hasn't operated in the same way. My little sister nearly died that night, because of my dumb decision."
Diesel is quiet for a few seconds. The weight of the story still hangs heavily in the air.
"I'm sorry that happened." He starts out slowly then continues, "But you shouldn't hate flying. That's not the cause of the accident. You're sister was young, and didn't realize that she should hold on. It's called an accident because it's not intended. Flying wasn't the source of the accident."
"It promoted it though." I growl.
Diesel raises his head higher, "Did I make my point clear? Will you try overcoming this hate and fear toward flying?"
"Sure." I roll my eyes.
"Please?" His black eyes lock with mine.
For a few mere seconds, I see past the alicorn and stare at the teenager behind those eyes. The boy who I had always wanted to be noticed by. I have finally received my wish. Diesel doesn't see me as just a person, but as a friend now. Why else would he give me such encouragement?
I can't hold back the warm fuzzy feeling inside me. The smile breaks forth across my face. The grin on my face then becomes mirrored on Diesel's.
We are now smiling at each other like crazy people.
"Okay. Let's get going, but give me a second to get up my morale." I tell him with a slight nervous laugh.
____________________
A few minutes later, I'm in the sky. Cold wind sweeps around me as my feathery wings go upward and downward. Diesel is a few feet to my right. It's hard to see him against the lightless sky.
Clouds have blocked out the starlight. The moon can barely be seen through the cloud cover.
The wing that I broke three years ago fights against me. It's stiff and uncoordinated. The valuable muscle memory has been lost over those three long years.
Diesel suddenly shoots upward. I focus my eyes on him as I keep pumping my wings. I try gaining altitude as fast as he does, but it's a futile struggle.
Then he starts doing twists and turns effortlessly. Tucking in his wings and diving, and then reopening his wings to fly upward once more. It surprises me how a horse could be so graceful in the air.
Maybe when I get my muscular strength back up, I'll be a great flyer like him.
After a few more acrobatic feats, Diesel returns to my side. He isn't even out of breath.
"You've been an alicorn for less than a month. How come you fly like a pro?" I inquire Diesel.
A smile spreads across his face, and his fangs poke out from under his lip. The sudden sight of the long teeth makes me drop my smile.
"What? What is it?" A worried look replaces his former expression.
Before answering, I pause momentarily. The two teeth seem to have a deadly appearance to them. The white shows clearly against the dark black of his hair.
"Why do you have fangs?" The question escapes my mouth before I can stop myself.
For some reason, I expect an offended reaction and some angry glares, but Diesel constantly surprises me.
Instead, he starts laughing. Not a chuckle or a giggle or a snicker; no, it's a full-out laugh.
Maybe when I opened up to him about my dislike to flying, he also unlocked the more easygoing side that I often see at school.
After a long time of listening to his laughter, Diesel answers, "Out of all the questions, you ask that one?"
"Yeah. When I'm confused or curious, I usually ask questions, and so I decided to ask why-?"
I'm cut off abruptly by a shattering noise. I look down to see that we're above town now. My sharp ears pick up the distant sound of breaking glass far below us. With my narrowing eyes, I glare at five figures dressed in dark clothes.
"Diesel, that's them! Those are the same exact guys who tried burning town hall!" I point at the criminals.
Before he can reply, I tuck in my wings and dive straight down. A screech erupts from my beak as I descend rapidly. It starts out as an eagle's scream and ends as a lion's roar.
The men stare up at the sky, but they probably see nothing. The street lights always cause a glare. All they see is a dark lightless sky.
They quickly grab whatever tools they've brought and climb back into the same dark van they retreated into last time. One of them drops something without his knowledge. I don't pay attention to it as I let loose another screech-roar. This only makes them hasten their fleeing.
I don't blame them. I would be just as terrified if I heard a screeching roar that had no known source.
The memories of flying years ago involuntarily come back to mind. At the right moment, my wings spread open and act as a parachute to cushion my drop.
The men's van revs to life. It jerks and skids away. As I begin to glide down the street, my front talons reach out for the vehicle's metal roof. They scrape and squeal against the dark painted metal.
What am I even trying to do? Pick up the van like Superman or something?
The van goes faster, and it rushes forward and out of reach. My wings pump faster so  that I can keep up.
Then my face suddenly slams into a hard object. The rest of my body's momentum pushes me harder into the thing. A green light fills my vision and then the next thing I see is the asphalt.
Shaking my head slowly, I look around to find myself lying in the middle of Main Street.
Behind me horse hoofs clomp on the hard surface, the clatter comes straight toward me, and I turn in time to see my friend approaching me.
"Thea are you alright? What in the world were you thinking? Are you okay? You dropped down pretty hard." Both concern and anger fills his voice.
A slow reply comes from me, "What happened?"
He raises an eyebrow, "You flew into a traffic light."
My eyes flick upward to see the traffic light turn red. It hangs from a power line, and it still swings back and forth wildly. I growl irritatedly as I stand painfully. The fall, though I don't remember it, had not been soft. An aching pain is spreading across my left side.
"Are you alright?" Diesel asks once more.
"Yes, I'm fine." I mutter through a clenched beak.
The concern leaves him as he starts chastising me, "Thea, you could've been seen by a human. Why did you dive bomb them like that? We could've waited quietly and called the police. That was way too dangerous. Insane is what it was!"
"Chill out." Is all I say.
He stomps his hoof with force, "You. Could have. Gotten hurt!"
My eyes settle on him. I can see the concern and fear underneath that toiling anger.
Does he really care whether I get hurt or not? It was only yesternight when I accused him of doing the criminal acts. Why would he care if I, a selfish griffin he barely knows, got hurt in an accident?
I turn from him to look at the place where the men had been shattering glass. But as I stare down the street, my eyes widen at the scene.
Every single window is broken. All the shops and stores are without glass. Only sparkling piles of clear crystals are all that are left of the once smooth glass display windows.
Walking slowly down the center of the street, I stare at the wreckage. A few of the buildings were two stories tall. Somehow the men had broken those small upper level windows as well. Not a single pane of glass had been spared.
"These shop owners don't have the money to buy more windows." I tell Diesel in a saddened tone.
He sighs from behind me, "Some of them will have to close down. Their insurance may be able to pay for some of it, but not everyone has good insurance either."
"Why are those men doing this?" I growl with fury rising in my voice.
Diesel is quiet. Neither does he know the answers to the questions I've been dying to know.
My feet take me back to the place where the men had been before I came onto the scene. Diesel's hoofs are clomping behind me.
A small folded note lies on the asphalt. The breeze tugs at its corners greedily. My talons reach out for it.
As I open it, I tell Diesel, "I saw one of them drop this earlier."
Neat handwriting is on the paper. It's in pencil too. On several lines is what looks to be random notes.
I read it out loud to Diesel, "Four crowbars. Five pairs of gloves. One sledgehammer. One can of red paint..."
I stay silent then say out loud, "Why did they need red paint?"
From behind me, Diesel's voice replies, "I think I know why."
I swivel around to see huge red letters painted across the store that lays across the street.
In red dripping letters are the words: This is only the beginning.
The rest of the blood colored paint had been poured on the sidewalk in front of the store. Shattered glass mixes with the thick, scarlet liquid.
Anger seeps into my voice, "This is only the beginning? Haven't they done enough already? Burning houses, wrecking cars, cutting down power poles, stealing guns, another attempt at arson, and then this!"
"What do they think they'll accomplish by these acts? Is this supposed to be a corrupt pastime?" Diesel's voice now has my own tone.
I scatter some broken glass with a kick of my eagle foot, "What makes me even more mad is that the police aren't even here yet."
The note remains in my left hand. I read the writing again, and the feeling of recognition enters my subconscious.
Have I seen this handwriting before? It looks so familiar.
I stare up at the red threat on the store in front of me.
"Diesel, we have to stop these people before someone gets killed."