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Rukh awoke at the touch to his shoulder: a slim griffin with light reddish grayish fur and reddish-brown feathers bent over the bed. His affectionately attentive gaze hid a smile barely noticeable in the dawn-dusk.

'How are you, wizard?'

The adult's voice sounded without a hint of a joke. The young man tried to build wings, but instead of phantom limbs, he felt only dizziness, ripples, and emptiness pricking him with needles.

'Like your rabbits, dad. Dead and gutted out.'

'Most of them are alive and hungry. I would not refuse your help, but there is a better job for you than cleaning the cells and running with a wheelbarrow. Although the smell of animals will protect you from curiosity, there are nicer and calmer places that you promised to go to.

'I burned all my strength yesterday...' Rukh was lying on his stomach and didn't move during the conversation. Even the eye was half-closed by the third eyelid.

'In the poplar forest, you will restore it pretty quickly, no one will pester you. You will straighten yourself and be filled with new forces among the popping and falling sticky buds covers and growing leaves. The day will be hot; the buds covers started fell yesterday.'

The young griffin blinked slowly. Yes, that's right, they were going to send people including small fry under the supervision of adults to the forest to pick medicinal plants. After yesterday events, Rukh did not want to keep an eye on the kids, even on a well-educated and familiar ones. On the other hand, now living in an uncle's forest house is the best thing you can think of. It was Rukhgert's haven, his own little world where he could hide from everyone and heal his wounds. However, it did not seem so attractive to collect sticky buds covers, while they are fresh and constantly fall from above, or look for rare herbs...

'I will be tired of tearing buds from wool and feathers.'

'You can walk like a scarecrow until you finally get molted. Or you can ask your sister for help,' now the hint of a smile sounded clear.

'Perhaps dad, you're right when you call me mature enough. I can handle it myself.'

'Then get up, have breakfast, take things and go. And do not talk to yourself until the mood is better, otherwise, you will consider yourself a whiner.'

'Thanks for waking me up, Dad,' Rukh creaked in reply.

'If you won't get up in a minute, I'll turn the bed over.'

The griffin stood up half-heartedly and began the morning routine, swimming in his thoughts. He tried to be quiet since he did not want to make noise and wake up his mother. Yesterday, Rukhgert received the bulk of the reprimand from her. It was as if conscience had not been nibbling Rukh for the deeds already: that they climbed without asking to the mountain and into the cave, got into trouble and almost died. He also hid his interest in sorcery, influenced Zack so that he lied to his family. And like a cherry on top, he walked past his home with a real dragon without looking at his family and received the glory of Indernachvonbergenburg.

The young man tried not to be angry with his mother. When Zak's mother rinses your brain, you'll start scream like her. Still, it was insulting - he understood everything, there was no need to scream.

After talking with his mother, Zach had to suddenly leave with his father-merchant on a regular business trip on a family truck. Well, well, he hid from most of the family and the people around him. It remains only to pack up and follow his example.

The door of the house opened slightly and a feathered head popped out. Beyond the threshold, morning met griffin with birds singing and hugged him with a thick coolness. A hand on a wooden jamb pressed closer to the warm pattern of the knots. There was no frost on the grass, but it was still fresh. Thick steam escaped from the nostrils. It's good that not all winter wool had time to shed, but it's better to wear a windbreaker and get into boots than to go in sandals. Yes, it will be hot in the afternoon, but now just walking does not warm up, and washing paws of kilograms of dirt in an ice stream is still a doubtful pleasure, even if you ride a bicycle. Anyway, you have to get down and work in the forest.

'What would I like to take with me to read at night, if I do not have enough strength for the textbook? Will I ever have enough strength after yesterday? Should I continue to learn magic after what happened?'

His brain was messed up, and Rukh tried to fix it with simple labor.

'What should I wear so that it is not hot or cold?'

Sometimes the griffin regretted that he had not learned to prepare calmly. Each hike preparation was a little panic, and yesterday he simply did not have the strength to fill the backpack with the right stuff.

'Take shorts or not? Which shirt? I must not forget to take food, that's for sure. And leave a note to Zack to join in if he returns from the trip earlier.'

The straps of a backpack or the strap of a bag are all one thing; they bite, pinch and strive to tear out a tuft of wool or a feather from the neck. A smooth shirt made of thick fabric or, like this morning, a coarse jacket with a hood noticeably makes it easier to wear. In the end, you won't take much in your hands, so the griffin liked the shoulder bags. They were more suited to scaly and stony-skinned, of course, but it's okay, someone was less fortunate. Poor Zackary - his young mane and pride for it prevented the lion from carrying backpacks more and more.

Shorts, a small first-aid kit, food and a hiking set fit in a backpack. The griffin did not take the textbooks with him, just a sci-fi book that he was reading currently. Shod, he went out onto the porch and looked around again - it was starting to get light. Whispering thanks to the house, Rukhgert stroked the closed door, rolled out a bicycle on the road, and left the town.

***

The road through the spring field and a young griffin slowly rides along it. The sun already lights the mountain on the left hand, its rays are gilding the tops of the trees. A brief moment, and heat and light will also fall to the earth, and twilight for a short time will find salvation in the ravines and behind the rocks.

The disk of the star rose a few more angular minutes, and the forest twilight disappeared. Deciduous trees grew on the edge of the forest. Young, just pecked leaves and swollen buds could not create enough shadow. Hot rays touched the moist old leaf litter, and it responded with a bright, fragrant aroma. It mingled with the subtle smell of young greenery and fresh morning air and hugged a lone traveler. Stunned and left on the approach, between the field and the Forest of forests. Rukh drove on and the air changed. The smell became weaker, but coniferous motifs mixed in with it. Pale young grass made its way from under the gray leaves of last year, rotted mushrooms was visible here and there. Bright islands of moss attracted griffin's eyes. Finally greens! Fresh, young, not like the big branches of silent firs and slender pines.

The griffin pedaled, breathing deeply. He listened to the birds singing and to the rustle of tires, peered into the morning world, thought, and allowed yesterday to leave, dissolve, and retreat.

Yes, parents did not punish Rukh much. His father did not hide the "exploits" of his youth and believed that you need to be able to get out of where you were led by stupidity. If you got out - that means this stupidity is no longer a threat for you, even if you are caught again. If you didn't like it - you won't fall into the same trap. That was honest. Parents managed to travel, get to know people from different parts of the world and get into amazing stories before staying in Bergenburg. Have they settled down? No. They decided to experience a new level of adventure: raising children. And they were lucky in this.

It was the best place you can find: clean air, space, smart and peaceful neighbors, great opportunities to work in pleasure. Also - mountains and meadows around the town, a forest, and a river. For everyone who had gliders and dreams of flying, the place was just perfect. A rare griffin did not dream of the sky. By tradition, flying was one of the stages of growing up, and only an adult could have a glider, whether it was a hang glider, paraglider or some other wing.

Not all of the griffins were anthropomorphic, as tailless call the biped ones. Sometimes "wild", or, in the opinion of tailless, "classical" griffins appeared. Larger than ordinary, four-legged, as intelligent and cultured as their family. Most importantly, they were winged. They flew! They flew as griffins should fly, without dreams and gliders, on their own wings, huge and powerful.

Nature took a peculiar fee for this: the "wild" or "feral" griffins grew up and aged twice as fast as bipeds, ate for five and risked running wild if they were alone. This rarely happened - their families took care of winged members, and the winged ones kept together and looked after themselves. Children of the "classical" griffins could be either winged or anthropomorphic, and therefore often brought up with the active participation of grandparents.

The next change of forest distracted Rukhgert from thoughts. Southern poplars grew beyond the clearing. They looked like narrow silver candles with aspen bark. Other poplars giants spread behind them like towers. Its fluff will fly to all directions of the world in a month and a half, but for the most part of the fluff will fall to the ground, where it will be gathered. Fluff will be spun, fabrics weaved from it, and from it...

'I drove by,' Rukh told himself, looking around.

He had to go back and find the right path leading away from the poplars into the pine forest. There, on the edge of the glade, stood a small log cabin with walls blackened by time and the sun. About twenty years ago uncle Evor and his friends built a neat one and a half floors house with a veranda and a porch. Later, a canopy appeared and stone tiles beneath it formed a summer kitchen, where you can cook food and sort the collected herbs, remove impurities before sending the harvest for processing. Under the canopy, there was a small brick stove and a place for a bonfire: the sloping roof of the canopy was equipped with a mechanism: if you turn the wheel on the pillar, it lifted and pulled aside the plates to let the smoke exit. Behind the house was a woodshed, and quite in the distance in the forest - a toilet. Once upon a time, the only source of water was the forest stream, but ten years ago, a water pump was placed in a glade. Conveniently, especially when the stream dries up.

No one lived here in winter; even with a furnace, it was too cold for the summerhouse. However, as soon as the snow got off, the house became a great place. Sometimes Rukh came here just to have a rest. Officially, uncle allowed herbs pickers to use the house on the condition that they would take care of it and be responsible for every single bit of damage, but in fact it was used only by Rukh, Evor himself, and a few others who appeared in the forest very rarely. Although young folks loved to work in the forest, away from adults, and strove to go there at every opportunity.

Rukhgert's house was not the only one. On the ground, under the ground, and on the trees, there were small houses. Not boyish toy "headquarters", which are built by children sometimes, but real compact houses. Our griffin visited each of them and with pleasure went into one house, then into another house on occasion, but he preferred to sleep in his uncle's cabin. From the inside, the house was cozy and well-groomed, because only locals were allowed into this forest, and you could only stay in such cabin either as a guest if you are with someone, or as a host, if you are listed as a herbs picker and have shown yourself to be a reliable and responsible companion. It was an excellent defense against fools and an occasion for self-control.

Maybe Rukh was here too often, or maybe Lizabeth made up shifts so good that the griffin could enjoy peace and solitude here. Usually, not all of the alchemists guys stayed in the forest at night. Someone had plans for other days, and someone was going to learn theory after the shift. For a day or two of manual labor, thoughts should be well established, assimilated, and there still will be a desire to learn something more complex and useful, profitable. And less tedious.

***

Open the door and breathe in the aroma of expectation - the jellied smell of unpainted wood, tools, and herbs that once dried in the attic. Dry aroma in a humid forest. It seems that after spring cleaning no one been here. Rukh looked around the veranda: a washbasin in the corner and two covered buckets for water, a staircase to the attic, shelves along the wall, jars on the windowsill, a tool cabinet and a skinny armchair-bed in the corner. Rukh liked to sit in this chair and read while it's raining outside, and behold how the drops crawl down the glass. Or look at them and think about something else, climb up in the chair with his legs, lean on the side and dream, curled up in a ball and hugging himself with his tail. The chair was tailless and had a continuous back, it was not easy to sit there normally, yet it was comfortable nest.

Rukh took off his shoes and entered the house. Once again, he took a full breath, enjoying the familiar scent, stroked the wall and said hello. The house creaked quietly in response.

Today Rukh will have to cook food, but this can be done later. Sticky buds covers began to fall yesterday, it is better to work in the morning cool. The main thing was not to plop down on the bed to fall asleep. At least before he gets sheets out of the dresser drawer and makes a bed for later, check the dishes and unload the backpack, put the food in proper places. The kitchen corner has been washed in advance; the stove has been cleaned and renewed with clay last time. But they'll probably cook in the summer kitchen under a canopy, just sweep the needles off the stoves. Rukh shook his head. Now against his exhausted will he must roll up the sleeves and collect the poplar buds covers, by a strange chance healing for people of two nations. Work, no matter how lazy he feels on this quiet sleepy morning. Even birds are not heard near the house, they seem to be sleeping. Oh, where is the light broom and bag to start the work?

***

The day was drawing to noon when the first herbs picker appeared in the spring poplar forest. Nimble lizard-like pangolin girl looked pretty: emerald green and silver scales, delicate features of the narrow muzzle, slim body and noiseless gait on slightly bent springy legs. Pangolins often jokingly called lizards, and this does not offend them. Through the forest overgrown by moss, the picker crept up to the griffin and closed his eyes with her silver hands.

'Lizabeth', guessed Rukh. Hands went down to his shoulders. Lizard bent over sitting griffin and looked into his eyes.

'Hi, Rukhgert the early bird. Everyone will arrive after noon, but you are working here alone', light green eyes turned up in front of amber orange griffin's eyes. Vertical pupils were lighted with naughtiness and interest.

'You talked too much with Sedge, but her tricks are better. Why did I know that I could not cope with the whole forest alone, calmly minding my own business? How many of ours will come?'

'Lot of them, you will not get bored,' Liz smiled and almost touched his beak with her muzzle. 'Yesterday Zack was annoyed with questions, but he's not talkative and left with his father. Away from adventures, closer to trading. I want to listen to you about what happened. Well, to protect against particularly annoying folks too. Although not. It will not work with such look of yours. Why so long face?'

'I am very tired after yesterday...'

'... And you can't do anything magical, can you?' the pangolin's voice has become quiet and gentle, 'Do you want me to help regain strength?'

'I just need a break from everyone, Lizabeth.'

'You just need to forget tiredness and enjoy the world well.'

She hugged the griffin from his back, buried her fingers in his fur under unbuttoned shirt. The ears of the griffin stood up. He tried to free himself from her arms, but the emerald scaly hands were quicker and began to tickle under the ribs.

'Ay, stop it!' Rukh wriggled but could neither break out nor catch Lizabeth's fingers. He managed only to cry out, 'Tickle! Let me go! The whole forest will come running!'

'I bet they won't. You won't call for help, right?'

She overturned the griffin to the ground and found more and more places to tickle: neck, belly, ear, even the tip of the tail turned out to be sensitive. At first, Rukh resent quietly, but soon he shouted without a shame in his voice, asked for mercy to stop the torment. Pangolin smiled broadly and allowed him to crawl away just to grab his paws and tickle between toes. Five minutes later, the exhausted Rukhgert was completely without strength and covered in sticky buds covers. He only trembled at especially strong touches.

The torture was over. Behind heavy breathing and a beating of the heart, the silence of the forest became audible. The sky, blue and so close, seemed to sink below the poplar branches. Young buds seemed to float in this sky, sparkling in the sun, dropping down on haircap moss at the roots, on scales, feathers, and fur. The wind shook new sticky covers from the tops, but it was calm near the ground, and the roots smelled more of poplars and earth than the wind and poplars. Pleasant aroma. Nothing annoying, just sleepy, but cannot sleep. So he lied there, felt the clouds flying in the sky above, felt the warm air. And almost did not mind the company of his good friend.

'Liz...' the griffin began quietly.

'Shh. Be silent and listen carefully. Hold your hands to the ground if you want to borrow strength. You will hold out until the evening, and there you will give it before bedtime.'

The griffin looked at the lizard with gratitude, and she answered him with a smile:

'Have a rest. I will estimate the amount of work and whom to direct to each sector.'

Before Rukh could answer, she hid behind the trees.

***

The first night, of course, Rukh was not alone. In the summer kitchen near the house, they prepared dinner for the whole crowd and there they set the table. A pot of soup, a pot of stewed beans with meat and a pot of tea for fifteen people. Fortunately, half of them were children, from eight years to twelve. They went to not only help older friends and earn a little but also to play in breaks in the battle of magicians, throwing fireball cones and other wooden "spells". Sometimes they hit the elders and involved them in the game, albeit not for long. Of course, the small ones did not run far from the rest. Between the games, they also worked, listened to the conversations. The younger ones helped the elders to the best of their ability, and elders, in turn, took care of their younger shift, played "tea-tea-help" and other "touch and run" games with them, and gave jobs to persons on duty. To pick fresh nettles for soup and bring brushwood? No problem! To help in the kitchen with cleaning or cutting? Yes, of course, and even wash the dishes afterward, if the job is done together, equally with the elders.

An older friend will explain what you are ashamed to ask other people about, he will fix the bike, and he will do the bow with the sword and will help with advice and teach you many useful things. Even more, in a fit of generosity, he will give up old toys that he no longer needs. Moreover, the most relish is to get good clothes from a friend, which is already small for him. It is from a friend, and not from relatives and acquaintances, and exactly the one that you like, which you later wear with pride, learn to carefully patch and then pass it on.

'The little ones turned out to be better than I expected', thought Rukh. Nobody asked him about yesterday. Maybe because there were plenty of adults. Or maybe because almost all who came were local and had a principle to respect the privacy of the others. Even Kotya, a small boy from the people of the monkeys had adopted the unspoken rules of society, even though he lived in this "Country", "Summerhouse" world only on vacations. The same time, the pangolin Alder at the age of eleven still adhered to the rules of decency of her native world, that prohibits eating at the same table with anyone other than her family and her closest friend.

'Al, will you sit with us or on the bench by the stove?' Rukh asked out of habit, pouring soup into bowls. For pangolins, due to the toxicity of their mucous membranes, there were separate dishes with a yellow-black striped border.

'As always, near to warm place if you don't mind,' the lizard shyly backed up, almost tripping over her tail.

'Alder, can I sit with you?' Kotya got up from the table and stood still waiting for an answer, 'there is no table there, you will not break any rules,' he added hastily, watching the girl's eyes expand.

'What for?' she squeezed out of herself.

'You seem offended or punished, you are sitting away from the conversation. Maybe it just seems to me like that. I know that you are used to behave like that at home, but I am embarrassed that you are on the sidelines. In my Native world, I can't go far without adults, and the older guys will not do anything good, but everything is different here, the guys are cool, and I can do something that is forbidden for some reason at home. And at home, I can do something that others do not like here. For me, if you want to do something, and no one will notice it - that means you can do it.'

'No, Kotya,' came the voice behind him, 'it's better to put in words like these: "Do what you want if it doesn't hurt anyone.", got it?'

'What is the difference?' the boy turned his head, looking around.

'You won't look like a madcap,' came a third voice.

'Come on!'

In the noise that had begun Alder slipped behind the stove. It was too difficult for her to go against herself, against the will of her parents and tradition. Sharing food at one table is a ritual, a symbol of close ties, trust, family relationships. There are similar views in other cultures, but in a strange Common World, traditions mixed up, shifted, lost their meaning. Whom will you be if you don't follow the rules?

After dinner, the kitchen attendants Rukh and Kotya left to wash the dishes, while the rest enjoyed a leisurely conversation. The elders shared their plans on who would go to work in the summer with whom and what they would learn. Friends from other towns were going to visit Bergenburg and learn something useful here. The younger ones asked about other towns that they had not visited yet, but most of all - how to live and work there alone, is it not scary, are you homesick?

'If a reliable friend is nearby, then everything is many times easier,' Naythel remarked, 'not only in another town but in another world too.'

'And if you are completely alone without friends?'

'Then, Alder, nobody distracts you from the job, except for yourself,' Teyghar smiled at her and gazed at far point somewhere in space, 'when I worked as a lighthouse keeper, I had enough time. Maybe loneliness, if we talk about people, I had only a company of books and thoughts. I studied mathematics, physics, and strength of materials, geology and other sciences, which a few years later allowed me to go to university. I graduated, worked on the coast and it is the third year I come here for the summer, my knowledge helps me and other people to make life better, and mechanisms and constructions - more reliable. Today is day off - why not be with friends, even at another work?'

'Guys, the wagon is coming!'

Large bicycle carriage appeared on the way to the edge of the glade. Two folks pedaled it, and the airy mesh construction confidently crawled through the forest, paving its way with large wheels along the clay and roots. A rather controversial vehicle, rather slow if compared to ordinary bicycles, but convenient if you need to carry something light and voluminous, such as grass.

Five minutes later, all the material collected in the signed bags was loaded into a wagon and sent to the town. Kotya asked for the pedals, but the pangolin saddle was not designed for his anatomy, so he went on foot in front. Alder and other collectors, too young to spend a night in the forest, came with him too. Naythel was already passing by age, and so he went to the griffin.

'Rukh, can we stay with you?'

The griffin looked at his friend and sighed to himself - no way to be alone today. Naythel talked more with Rukh than with the others in this forest, so there was clearly no one to ask except Rukhgert. The same with Teyghar. One came in this world not so long ago, no one will give him a free house, and the other is not local and too adult. Both can be guests at someone's house, but not on their own. Lizabeth left with Sedge, there is no more room in their little house, the other guys also got grouped in advance. On the other hand, Naythel with Teyghar is an unusually lively and joyful Naythel, with whom it is easy and pleasant to communicate. Rukh would like to know the draconid a little bit better - winters are too cold in Bergenburg for the winged people to live here.

'Will it be convenient for you?' Rukh asked, 'The nights are cold; I will not let you sleep on the veranda and in the attic. And the beds are not wide, maybe even too short for Teyghar.'

'To do not embarrass you, Naythel and I can share the same bed, not the first time.'

Although the griffin's beak does not express anything, his eyes, eyebrows, and ears can tell about emotions much more than a human face. Especially if you add feathers standing up on end and tail movements. Rukh grunted and mumbled something in between "curious to see how you fit there" and "that is what bothers me."

Draconids cannot sleep on their backs. In this, they are similar to pangolins, but wings are added to the problem of the dorsal crest and the massive tail that makes their bodies banana-like. If you slept on your side so that your hands went numb, or your shoulder stuck into your neck, you will understand some of the difficulties: additional shoulder joints of the wings with powerful muscles, huge wing palms, the fingers of which are connected by a thick leather membrane. In some draconids, they reach the heels and provide a truly impressive wingspan and firm wing area, sufficient for planning in a dense stream. It is hard to fit on a bed. Draconids sleep comfortably on their sides, sometimes on their stomachs.

If you had to sleep next to them on a camping trip in the same tent or somewhere else, beware of running into horns, a crest, or stepping on wings. And remember that the wings are the main heat exchange zone, it will be hot under them, and the dragon will want to cover them with a blanket.