:Text recieved on a phone:
hlep! i was trikc-or-treatign with my borther adn our douchebag cousni, adn they gave me smoe of thire haul, luahging abotu how they egged thsi wiccan ladeis houes aftre they got teh cnady, adn now i'm ni a fantays wrold as a griffin! youv'e got to fnid uot where she lievs, adn get hre to brnig me back! there's this ohter griffin taht's bene hagnign aruodn, i dno't know waht they watn!
:another text, some weeks later:
Nevermind, this is pretty great.
:photo attached is of a gryphon standing on a cliff edge, looking over. Said gryphon is not an eagle/lion mix, but what appears to be a crow/snow leopard. There is another gryphon of the same species in the background. Photo seems to have been taken with the phone propped up on the ground and a scratched lens: -- RecklessPrudence
[For those of you who do not understand claw-texting misspelling, here is a translation: help! i was trick-or-treating with my brother and our douchebag cousin, and they gave me some of their haul, laughing about how they egged this wiccan ladies house after they got the candy, and now i'm in a fantasy world as a griffin! you've got to find out where she lives, and get her to bring me back! there's this other griffin that's been hanging around, i don't know what they want!]
Cole had had the worst post-halloween hangover. And then the worst post-halloween wake-up experience. Their entire body felt wrong. Cole ached where they had thought there weren't places to ache.
Too much candy. And falling asleep outdoors.
"Prrrp?"
And there was probably a cat.
Wait. They distinctly remembered crawling into bed. "...'ve i been sleepwalkin' again?" Cole tried to mumble. But what came out were a series of raspy squawks.
I must be in worse shape than I feel. That has to be a cheev.
"Cooorrrrip?" That cat wasn't a cat.
Cole opened one crunchy eye to glare balefully at the face of some kind of enormous corvid. With oddly intelligent eyes. Was it a raven or a crow? Cole wasn't in a mood to count its wing feathers[1]. "Don't suppose you know the way back to Conneticut?" Cole tried. The information supplied by their ears battled with the information from their brain. It was too noisy a fight.
"Cooo-ooo-ooo..." said the bird. And somehow, the words, You are in an awful lot of pain. Shall I help? made their way into Cole's shattered brain.
"Jus' start with where I am an' what day it is..." Cole tried to move, and fell over. Somehow, they felt like they had extra limbs and they were all in the way. Everything hurt. They still had their cell phone. Clutched in a... set of talons?
Cole's hands were bird claws. Their feet were... snow leopard paws? There were glossy black wings and a spotted tail and... "What the hell's happened to me?"
The other gryphon was purring and trilling at the same time. Calm down, friend...
"I gotta text my roomie. This has to have been an enormous mistake."
Talons were not made for texting. Nor were they made for smart phones. It took five tries and way too many misspellings to get a semblance of a message out. And by the time Cole was done with that, the other Gryphon had rounded up some fish and half a pig. It had eaten the other half.
Coos and chirps. Eat, friend. You will feel better.
"Uh. I'm not into raw food. Any chance of a campfire?"
What is 'campfire'?
Learning to be a gryphon had been something of a steep curve. Cole walked around on all fours for months before they learned how to use their pinions [their bird half was a raven, it turned out] to any decent effect. And once they took wing...
The roomie who never read the message, or just ignored it, got one final message from Cole. It read, Never mind. This is pretty great. and included a picture of two gryphons. One seemingly happy and the other, a little more cautious.
People later investigating it for signs of fraud would identify both animals as a male and a female.
It didn't get disturbing until Cole started sending baby photos.
[1] Because ravens have five long wing feathers (pinions) while crows have four. The difference is a matter of a pinion.
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