User:Jetfire/A Fire in the Sky Book4

{{#if:Jigsaw green.png|}}

Icon	Paradigm Shift story universe

{{#if:Nuvola apps bookcase.png|}}

Icon	Works by Jetfire on Shifti

{{#ifeq: User |User| A Fire in the Sky: Book 4 | A Fire in the Sky: Book 4}}[[Title::{{#ifeq: User |User| A Fire in the Sky: Book 4 | A Fire in the Sky: Book 4}}| ]]
{{#ifeq: | |

 {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | | 
   {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | || 
     Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}| ]]
   }} | 
   {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | |
     Author: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} |
     Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}| ]]
   }}
 }} |
 {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | |
   {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | | Authors: ' | 
     Authors: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}]] 
   }} | 
   {{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} | |
     Authors: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}} |
     Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Jetfire | Jetfire}}]] 
   }}
 }}

}} {{#if:| — see [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}

---

{{#if:Triple X.png|}}

Icon	This story contains adult content.

{{#ifeq:User|Help||}}

Author's note This story contains scenes with adult encounters and descriptions.

This is the continuing story following the griffon named Skyfire

A Fire In the Sky: Book 4 (Formerly Big Sky Country)

Friday, February 16

Recovering from those peaks was thankfully very quick; usually a good night's sleep was all I needed. So I was back in the office bright and early on Friday, eager to get back in action. The day itself went quickly and uneventfully, until the end.

As usual, I wrapped up my work around four, and grabbed a six pack of beer from the small fridge I kept. With my offerings in hand, I headed down for my weekly meeting with Greg. The door was open so I tapped on the doorframe.

"Hey Simon, come on in. How was your week?" he greeted me, closing his laptop and coming around his desk.

"It's been a good one. GSL is finally coming together and the other apps are doing well. On top of everything else. You?"

"Good good. Yeah, things are going well in the ivory towers. I hear you got a bouquet this week?"

I chuckled and popped the top off one of the bottles. "Yeah, it was from Cardi. It was her first Valentine's Day without being in a relationship, so she reached out to me. We went out for dinner after," I explained. "The Change led to her breaking up with her boyfriend."

"I see. Well good for her, and for you," Greg said. I could tell he suspected more, but I left the subject hanging. Instead, we talked about safer subjects, like ongoing projects. It didn't take long to finish the first beers.

"Now seems to be a good time to bring up the elephant in the room," Greg said as I popped the tops off the next beers and passed them out. "How's the Mitchell Account going?"

The "Mitchell Account" was slang for our contract with a company called Athabascan Geologics, now based up in Fort McMurray. It was the oldest contract Innovative Solutions had, and a keystone to our business stability. It was also the contract that had basically cemented Greg and my positions in the company.

A lifetime ago, when Greg and I were just two guys taking computing courses in University of Alberta, we had made friends with a geology major named Tony Mitchell; we'd become roommates for our final year of courses. After graduating, we had gone our separate ways but stayed in touch.

Tony had joined a startup that would provide geologic services to the oil industry, and we expected we would eventually drift apart. To our surprise, the fall after we graduated, he reached out to us with a problem his company was having; they were making too much data and were struggling to manage it .

Between the three of us, we'd worked out a solution and pushed it through our respective companies. They became one of our first clients, and the relationship had flourished ever since. Tony's company was more than big enough to manage their data in house now, but they kept us on because we knew their needs so well.

Twenty five years later, we were getting ready for a major update to their infrastructure. We did it every few years, so it wasn't a surprise, but it was a nightmare to organize and manage and was my main job on top of managing the GriffTech group and my PR duties. Becoming a griffon hadn't changed that aspect of my job at all.

"The account is going well. I've scoped out their cloud requirements, as well as the hardware upgrade plans, and I haven't run into any surprises yet," I explained.

"Good, So you'll be ready for the big presentation on the 29th?" he asked. We'd booked this event months ago to go over the plans, finalize them and get them going. Mostly it was our board members getting together with their board members to do a lot of talking while a bored griffon watched from the side.

"Sure. I'm still polishing my notes, but we can go over it next week."

"Right. Time's going fast. We only have a couple of weeks before then," Greg noted, stressing the number. He was obviously hinting at something that I was missing.

"I've been working on this for months. I could run through it in my sleep," I said confidently. I tapped my phone and brought up my calendar. "When's a good time-" I froze, finally seeing what Greg was getting at.

Considering how my peaks affected me, you would think I was more aware of when they were coming, and generally that was true. But for longer term planning, I had set up recurring reminders in my calendar so I was more aware. It was part of the reason I'd pushed for the GriffHealth app after all. The big Mitchell Account meeting had been scheduled months ago, and even after I'd changed, there hadn't been a problem.... Until my peaks shifted. Now they were on Thursdays... The same Thursday when the big meeting was starting.

"Fuck." I said, staring at the calendar. Two days had been scheduled for the meeting, and the first one was the same day as my heat.

"Fuck indeed. I thought you had realized it," Greg said.

I groaned, letting my hands drop. My wings drooped a bit as well, while my mind raced. "I hadn't. I mean, we talked it over back when this started happening, but back then I was on Wednesdays. It wasn't a problem. Now... Fuck."

Greg's gears were obviously turning now too. "We can't change the dates; too much is locked in now. And we can't really move your presentation, it's too important and sets up everything we've planned for Friday."

"I know, I know." I took a deep breath to try and calm myself and consider my options. "We have two weeks. I could brief you beforehand, and let you run it maybe?" I suggested. Greg grimaced and I knew that wouldn't fly. "Or maybe I can get Rob to do it, or someone else?" I grasped at straws. We both knew that wasn't really an option; this project had too many moving parts to toss on someone else's shoulders with no warning. Our 'hit by a bus' factor wasn't exactly one

for this project, but it was damn close to it. After my Change, we'd stepped up our efforts to get that knowledge out of my head and spread around, but too much was still concentrated on me.

"Maybe we could do a remote presentation?" Greg suggested. HIs tone indicated he didn't like the idea, but it was an idea. We'd certainly done enough of those through the COVID years.

I sighed and nodded. "It's possible. I know you don't like it. Let's keep that in our pocket for now."

I snagged the beer bottle and gulped down a beakful without really tasting it. "I... I've been getting a better grip on those things. Adam and Cardi and others have been helping me out a lot. Hell, I've even been leaving the house while it was active. So maybe... maybe... I could make it in. Hold things together long enough to get through the presentation."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked.

"Not at all. It's scary as hell. I hate for people to see me like that, and what I'm feeling on those days, isn't human. But other griffon's have been doing it for months now. Maybe it's time for me to pull up my big-griff panties and take control."

He blinked, taking a moment to parse my strange phrasing, then reddened a bit. He took a gulp of his own beer before going on. "Right, in that case, we'll keep the plans as they are and come back to this next week. If you feel you can't do it, we'll figure something else out."

"Right, thanks Greg. And I'm sorry to put you in this bind. I'll do my best to push through. I just may need a break or two throughout the day."

"I'm sure that can be arranged. Thank you Simon."

Thursday, February 29

I slept uneasily through the night, knowing how important the meeting was. It's hard to toss and turn in bed when you have wings and long tail feathers, but I managed it, flipping and flopping from side to side all night long.

My Icy God appeared early in the morning after I'd finally managed to fall into a deeper sleep. He still seemed a bit annoyed from last time, but I didn't care. I approached him in our dreamscape and hugged him tight. Part of me was annoyed he was here. Another part of me wanted him to take me away, to give me some relief and an escape from the day ahead. As if sensing my torn feelings, he relaxed and we began to cuddle. It went quickly from there and soon I felt him slide inside.

I woke with a happy screech, hugging a pillow tightly, my rump in the air, tail twisted to the side. I slumped back onto the bed, panting and wide awake, the pleasant feelings fading as reality set in. I laid still for a long moment, trying to hang onto them.

"Fuck," I groaned, finally pushing myself up. I slid off the bed and flicked on the lights. It was way too early in the morning, but it was a big day. I faced the mirror and inspected myself, rubbing a swollen breast and then down between my legs. I was thankful they were showing up during the heat and not the rut, at least I wouldn't have to worry as much about showing a bulge.

Without really intending to, I stroked myself to another climax. I closed my eyes and rode the wave of pleasure, before letting out a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

I spent a long time in the bathroom cleaning up and making sure I gave myself a thorough preening. My breasts weren't too big yet, but I did a self milking to try and keep them somewhat under control. I drained and cleaned up the pump and stared at it, debating on if I should take it with me to the office or not. Doing this stuff in the office was a mortifying thought, but it was also my new reality. Reluctantly, I packed it into a travel bag, deciding I'd rather have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

On most days, I just wore shorts and the griffon equivalent of a t-shirt to the office. They were comfortable, if not the most fashionable. Considering how important this meeting was, I knew I had to step up my wardrobe game. Luckily I had a few things that I'd picked up in recent months. Some options came from Jacques, the others I'd picked up under the advice of Cardi and Michelle and other friends. So I found myself standing in front of my closet considering my choices. I ultimately decided on a pair of short black slacks. The legs were longer than my normal shorts; they left most of my furry legs visible while clinging tighter than shorts would.

For a top, I picked one of Jacques's creations; a blue pullover. It had a short back to sit nicely above my wings, and sleeves just loose enough for my arms to slip in without ruffling my feathers too much. The sleeves went down to my elbows, where my feathers switched to scales. The front had a large neck, big enough for me to squeeze my head through. I tugged it over my breasts, and through some magic of sewing and fashion design, it hugged around my chest without bunching up. I liked the colours and the overall feel of it. What I didn't like was how girly it was. It was tight enough to hug and even lift my breasts a bit. Combined with the wide neck, it meant I was showing more cleavage than I was normally comfortable showing. A funny thing to say, considering I often went topless, but wearing a shirt seemed to accentuate them more than just having them in the open.

I inspected myself in the mirror, flexing my wings and tail to make sure everything fit well. I tugged on the shirt and looked closer at my chest. Jacques had sent me a number of these tops, made out of a variety of fabrics and colours. This one was made of cotton, the fabric thick enough that my nipples weren't visible. It did feel a bit rough against them, so I reached up from below and added some pads and checked again. Even to griffon eyes, nothing was visible.

I packed up my travel bag with the breast pump and a full set of preening brushes, and took off into the brightening skies. I was early enough that I decided to pick up breakfast along the way. It would also be a way to test my resolve on handling the heat in public.

I stopped at a Coras, a breakfast and lunch restaurant in the base of a tower near my office. This early in the morning, it wasn't busy yet, so the waitress seated me at a table quickly. I ordered some eggs benedict, a coffee and a smoothie, and started scrolling through the news while waiting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people do a double take when they saw the fiery griffon sitting in the restaurant. It made me feel extra self conscious, even though I was used to the doubletakes, especially when I went to places I didn't normally go to. Thankfully the exercise of the flight downtown helped take the edge off the heat for now.

The coffee was dropped off first, and I left it to cool after tossing in some milk and sugar. When the waitress left the smoothie, she started to put down a paper straw, before stopping herself.

"Thanks, but I don't need one," I assured her, waving the straw off.

"Okay?" she said doubtfully. "Your meal should be ready soon."

I picked up the glass when she was gone and considered the thick liquid. I kept a metal straw in my travel bag, but it was narrow, more suited for pops and juices. Instead of retrieving it, I held it to the side of my beak and tilted it just enough to bring the liquid to the edge. I began to lap it up, careful not to spill any; after five months, I'd long since gotten over any embarrassment for how I ate and drank.

By the time my food arrived, I realized one mistake I had made. A different sort of heat was getting to me. The restaurant had a mostly open kitchen, and all the grills and ovens and fryers, along with the regular heating system, made it hotter than I was used to. On top of that, my table was towards the back, so I had no fresh air relief from the opening door. When she put my plate down, I was panting a bit and fluttering my wings, trying to cool off in a different way. The smoothie was half gone.

"Are you okay?" the waitress asked, sensing my discomfort.

"I am. It's just a bit hotter than I'm used to. I'll be fine," I weakly assured her. "Maybe a glass of ice water when you get a chance please."

I finished the meal a bit faster than I intended to, but the duelling heats were pushing me along. I polished off the smoothie and two glasses of ice water while eating. The coffee on the other hand, I barely sipped from, even when it was cool enough.

I stepped out into the cold winter air and spread my wings wide, letting out a sigh of relief as the heat dissipated. A few early morning pedestrians looked at me strangely. I started walking to the office a block away, not bothering to take to the skies for such a short distance.

I reached my office soon after eight and immediately closed the door and drew the blinds. I took a few minutes to do some preening, putting my feathers back into place and making sure I looked presentable. The walk had helped cool off my physical heat, but the hormonal heat was still throbbing. While it was tempting to act on those feelings, I fought back; that was one thing I was determined to NOT do in the office. Instead, I brought up my presentation and started doing a final review.

Shortly after nine, there was a knock on the door.

"It's open, Come on in," I called out, while standing up from my desk. I glanced down to make sure I was presentable.I knew my body and I could tell my breasts were swollen. To anyone else, I doubted it was noticeable.

Greg came in and closed the door behind him. He studied me, worriedly. "Morning, Simon.You're looking good. How are you feeling?"

"Not my best, but I can handle today," I admitted. The heat was screaming for attention. I focused on other things and fought to keep it reigned in.

Greg stayed at the office door and nodded. "Good, good. Our guests are arriving at ten. Some of them are already downstairs. Like we did in September, I want to reveal you to them all at once. Some of them know who you are, but for most of them this will be a surprise."

"Okay, I understand. I'll head down at ten and wait for a cue."

"Great! And if you feel you need to tap out for any reason, just excuse yourself and leave. We'll sort things out later if we need to."

"Thanks Greg. I... I think I can handle it. I've had a bit of practice and I'm starting to get used to it. So hopefully I can endure."

He gave me a long look, then nodded again. "Right. See you soon.... OH! We haven't really talked much about this since the Christmas Party, but how do you want to be known for this?"

"Simon's fine. It's how they've always known me, and this is very much his project."

"Sounds good. See you then."

Before ten, I claimed one of our bathrooms and did a final self check. As far as I could tell, I looked perfectly normal. Inside, I was feeling frazzled and on edge. I did another brushing to settle my feathers and fur a bit, and checked my breasts. Despite how full they felt, they didn't warrant a milking yet. I packed up my brushes and did a final look in the mirror before leaving.

After leaving my kit in my office, I went downstairs and headed for our executive conference room. It was the room designed for the suits, with a huge wooden table, a nice view out over the city, and large comfortable chairs. The "IN USE" light was on outside, but the doors were open. I nodded to the receptionist and waited just out of sight. I could hear voices chatting inside, socializing before the meetings started. I recognized most of the voices, either from our company or from Athabascan Geologics.

The receptionist left the desk briefly and went in to pass along a message. I knew she was letting Greg know I was there. As she came out, she held up a finger to me, indicating I was to wait for a moment longer. Inside, I heard Greg speaking louder.

"It looks like just about everyone is here, so why don't we take our seats and get ready," he addressed the group. The rest of the conversations died down, and there was the noise of chairs shuffling around as the group took their positions. I flicked my wings and shook my tail nervously, waiting for my cue. The itch and ache in my loins was an annoying distraction that was bearable so far.

"You may have noticed someone missing. Our Chief Technician, Simon Farrell, has been involved in this project from the very beginning. As most of you know, last September he was caught up in that mess down south. He looks very different now, but his skills are as sharp as ever, and we're happy he is still able to work with us," Greg was saying.

I took that as my cue and stepped up to the doorway. Greg was at the head of the table on the opposite end of the room, so no one was looking my way at first. He saw me come in and nodded. A few followed his gaze and gasped. I waited until everyone had turned towards me, before I waved a wing at them. I walked over to the padded bench that was my spot at the table.

"Good morning everyone," I greeted them, breaking the ice. My coworkers knew me so they weren't surprised. Most of the Geologics people were shocked.

I knew the man seated across the table from me well. He stood up, the shock clear on his face as he stared at me.

"Simon? Damn, you're Skyfire? I never realized that," Tony Mitchell exclaimed. He leaned across the table, offering his hand. "I mean, I knew you were caught in that mess, but I didn't know you were her... him... erm... I just figured you guys had hired her for your ad campaign."

I shook my old friend's hand. He was basically my counterpart in Geologics. We'd been emailing and even voice chatting often since the change, but I just realized this was the first time he was seeing the new me. While we were Facebook and LinkedIn friends, I didn't usually post selfies, so he had obviously never realized what the new me looked like.

"Yes, I'm Skyfire, and yes they 'hired' me for the ad campaign. I guess you could say they hired me for it twenty five years ago." I felt Tony twitch a bit in surprise at the texture of my hand, but his expression stayed warm.

"We've gotta find some time to catch up. We clearly drifted a bit far apart," he said. "So would you prefer Skyfire now?"

"Simon's fine. It's how you've always known me, and this is definitely his project. Shall we begin?" I looked around the room. There were sixteen of us there, eight from each company, and I knew almost everyone there. Most of the expressions were friendly. I saw a hint of pity in some of the looks I was receiving. The one person I didn't really recognize was a new senior manager on Geologics team. He'd been hired during Covid so we'd never met in person, nor interacted much. He gave me an uncertain look, but I figured we would win him over soon enough.

I stepped around the bench, flipped my tail over it and sat down, signalling everyone else to take their seats. While the room settled, I poured a glass of water and sipped it. I wasn't really thirsty, but I figured it would be a good way to get people used to me early on, so when I did actually feel thirsty, it wouldn't disrupt the presentation. More than a few people, and not just Geologics people, were staring as I carefully lapped and dribbled the water into my beak and swallowed.

"Right, we have a busy day ahead of us, so let's get started," Greg said, refocusing the room his way. He activated a powerpoint presentation. "First, a bit of history, to remind us all of where we're coming from."

The pictures he showed were almost unrecognizable, and not just because I was no longer human. Twenty five years was a long time, and all of us from those early days had certainly changed a lot, even if Greg and Tony didn't get the fur and feathers makeover like I did.

The rest of the morning turned into a slog. The history lesson was a nice trip down memory lane; what followed was less nice. Various people began to speak, introducing themselves and establishing their bonafides. Half of them didn't really need to be involved, but I recognized the office posturing when I saw it. For someone who avoided office politics like the plague, it was intolerable. It was made worse by the heat building in my loins and the aching itch of my nipples. I did my best to stay focused and to not think of it. I tried to keep myself as still as possible, despite wanting to squirm and try to get some sort of relief. Thankfully Greg had positioned our team near the wall of windows. It was a little thing but the little bit of cold radiating from the thick glass helped offset the heat of the room.

Shortly after noon, Greg took over again. "I don't know about anyone else, but it's after noon, and I'm starving. I'm sure we can all smell the pizza's waiting out at the reception desk. So why don't we take a break and pick things up at 1:30. Feel free to head out for a bathroom break or a smoke break or anything."

While I couldn't really smell the pizza, I could see everyone else reacting, with many people glancing to the door where the boxes were hidden. On Greg's signal, they were brought in, along with cans of pop, bottles of water, plates and napkins. While I was waiting to make an escape, Greg cornered me.

"How're you doing?" he asked, studying me carefully.

I fluttered my wings a bit and glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to us. "It's rough, but I'm handling it. It'll be better when I'll be more active."

"Yeah, I know you hate this sort of thing. You're doing great so far; I know the new you and I can barely tell anything different." He smiled at me encouragingly and it was reassuring. "The actual planning will kick off in the afternoon. Do you need me to cover for you?"

"Save me a slice or two maybe. I'm going to duck upstairs and freshen up. I'm getting a bit heavy, if you get what I mean."

He shook his head in confusion. "I don't know what you mean, but do what you need to do."

I excused myself from the group and retreated upstairs. I headed straight to my office, ignoring the few teammates that tried to ask me how things were going. I snagged my bag and retreated to one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind me.

I studied my reflection in the mirror. At first glance, I looked like just another griffon. Five months of looking at that feathered face daily let me easily see how frazzled I really was. I brushed my head feathers a bit, and then took off my top. I studied my breasts, hefting one in each hand. While they didn't look any bigger than normal, they certainly felt heavier, filled with my peak milk. My nipples were firm to the touch, visibly erect against my fur. I growled a little in frustration that I had to do this, and unpacked the pump. I turned away from the mirror and started pumping. Soon the pressure and the weight on my chest was eased.

I gave myself fifteen minutes and felt a bit better, even if it didn't do anything to ease the feelings in my loins. I dumped the milk in the sink and rinsed out the equipment. Looking in the mirror again, I didn't look any different but I felt a bit better. I grabbed some of my brushes and did some preening. I put my top back on and tucked in a couple new pads over my nipples. Finally, I took a piss and may have wiped a bit more thoroughly than I had intended to. Not enough to get relief; if anything, the tease made the feelings worse. But my attention had slipped while I was mentally distracted, and my actions got away from me. I replaced the pantyliner and was ready for the afternoon.

As I'd requested, Greg had saved some pizza for me. We still had over half an hour before the meeting restarted, and a number of folk were still out. I snagged one of the remaining slices and nibbled on it. I was well aware of the eyes on me.

Tony waited until I had finished one slice before wandering over. I put my plate with a second slice down and gulped a bit of water.

"I still can't believe that's you Simon," he said. "It's incredible. I'm sorry I didn't check on you earlier. I should've realized it."

"It's okay. You guys are up in Fort Mac. You aren't back down this way that often any more." Over a decade ago, we'd helped them move their core offices to Fort McMurray to be closer to their clients, while setting up some satellite offices in Edmonton and Calgary. And less than a decade ago, our disaster recovery plans had been exercised when the city had burned down with the wildfires.

"Well, I guess you won't be coming up in person for the upgrade. It just means I'll have to find time to come back down and we'll see what trouble we can get into again."

I chuckled and nodded, "Sounds like a plan. And you never know, I might figure out a way to get up to Fort Mac too."

"So, what was it like? What is it like?" he asked.

"That is a story best saved for just us over some wine, or maybe over some beers. In a nutshell, it was terrifying and traumatic. As for how it is now, it has its moments, both good and bad."

He studied me closely. "Right. We've gotta find time for that beer time for sure."

The room was filling up again. I nodded to my slice.

"Sorry, I'll let you finish your lunch. We'll chat later."

The afternoon wasn't quite as bad as the morning. My heat was rapidly reaching its peak which was a pain in the gut. But I actually had things to do for this phase of the meeting. With something to focus on, I was able to plow through.

Once everyone got back to the room and settled down, I took over the powerpoint. Athabascan Geologics wanted a complete overhaul and update of their systems, including more use of cloud services, so I was outlining how we would do it, all while letting them keep doing their day to day work. It was going to be one of Innovative Solutions biggest jobs for our biggest client, hopefully spread over the next few years.

After my presentation was done, the talking began. Greg thankfully took over the meeting, while I reclaimed my bench seat. I had to answer a lot of questions and pass on many more of them that were literally above my paygrade. Greg kept the discussion on topic, nipping derails in the bud and keeping everyone focused.

Just after five, Greg decided to wrap things up. I dearly wanted to fall back in my normal routines; to go to my session with Adam, to do my blood draw at the clinic, and most importantly, to have an intense masturbation session with my icy god. Sadly, that was not going to happen. Even though the meetings were done, my obligations were not. We had a company dinner planned after a break to freshen up. It was why I had cancelled my usual Thursday plans.

Greg followed me upstairs to my office while our guests packed up and got ready for dinner. I really didn't want the company.

"Well, that went well. Thank you Simon. Your presentation was great."

I picked up my pack and turned to face him. "Thanks Greg. It wasn't my best work, but the important parts were covered."

He nodded, not picking up my obvious hints. "How are you feeling? I know this isn't a good day for you."

Not able to escape, I flipped my tail up onto my desk and sat on it. "It's rough. The first time I've really done a heat without releasing it. And it hasn't broken yet."

"You're handling it well. Do you think you can finish off the day?"

I considered my options. Part of me just wanted to go home, get some ice cream and rub myself raw. Despite my desires, I knew I had to attend this business dinner.

As if reading my mind, Greg made an offer. "If you want to bail out, I can cover for you. We know you're reliable and you're good for the job at hand."

His offer was tempting. Very very tempting. Instead I let out a long sigh. "No, I'll be there. I just need a bit of me-time to settle my head."

Finally he seemed to get a clue. "Oh! Right, right. I'll let you be. See you at the restaurant?"

"Of course."

Once he was gone, I ran to the washroom again with my gear. Like before, I stripped off my top and pumped out my milk. I cleaned up and started preening again. I sorely wanted to do more to relieve the heat, but I firmly drew the line at doing things in the office, even if it was the end of the day and it was emptying out.

The office was almost deserted when I came out. I could hear a few people still tapping on keys and clicking their mice. The office usually didn't fully shut down until eight or nine with the hours some people ran. I left and caught the elevator down. The street was still busy with the tail end of rush hour. I walked to the end of the building and ducked into the alley leading to the parking garage. A few steps past the corner, I took off, quickly getting above the top of the garage.

Being active after a day of sitting was a huge relief. I barely resisted the urge to let out a happy screech as my wings lifted me higher into the crisp air. The pumping of my heart and flexing of my muscles seemed to help offset the heat. With nothing else to do, I just climbed higher and higher, until I was over Stantec Tower. I began a lazy circle over downtown, wings stretched out to catch the winds.

Flying that high was peaceful; most griffons didn't climb that much for every day flying. If you put in the effort, when you got up there, it was a peaceful height. The winds were strong enough to keep you up with minimal effort. The hustle and bustle of the city was lost among the buildings, hundreds of meters below. I closed my eyes, and simply flew aimlessly, enjoying the air blowing through my fur and feathers.

All too soon, it was time to rejoin the rat race. I was somewhere over the south eastern part of the city, almost to the Hendey; the highway that ringed the core of the city. The dinner was going to be at a teppanyaki place near Rogers Place so I had a ways to go. Luckily, I could go literally as the crow flies, so it didn't take me long to get close, steadily dropping down as I went.

Being less familiar with the area, I found the restaurant and landed on a flat roof nearby to study the ground level. Traffic was relatively heavy, and the sidewalks were busy with people rushing to get to restaurants and do other errands. The street and sidewalks were too busy to land directly there. Instead, I shook my wings and tail a bit, feeling the nice burn from the flight, and looked around for quieter spots I could land. I found one a half block away, and took off, dropping below the roof line.

There was no one from our party outside the restaurant when I arrived, so I ducked inside. The restaurant was almost steamy hot, and filled with a cacophony of noises. The voices and clinking of dishes I was used to tuning out, but this place had a new noise, a somewhat regular clacking of steel on steel as the chefs put on their show. I hoped my discomfort didn't show much as the host came over to greet me.

"I'm here with the Athabascan Geologics group," I said, ears pressed down to try and muffle the noises. I fought the urge to pant in the heat.

The host seemed unperturbed to be hosting a griffon this evening. He checked the book and glanced deeper into the restaurant. "A group of 18? We have a private room for you, but it isn't quite ready yet. Would you care to wait for the rest of your party?" He indicated an area beside the door.

"Thanks, I'll just wait outside. Everyone should be here shortly."

I stepped back outside, and took up a position to wait near the door, standing outside the main traffic flow. The cold air felt divine.

Soon enough, I recognized two men coming from the direction of a nearby parking lot. They were bundled up against the cold, with heavier jackets, gloves and toques.

"Hey Simon! Aren't you forgetting something?" Tony called out when he spotted me.

Worriedly I looked down to double check myself. My top was on and nothing was showing that shouldn't be. I'd left my pack at the office, and only wore my phone in its wrist holder that also held my bank and ID cards. I tilted my head in confusion, looking back at my old roommate.

"Your jacket! It's freezing out here. Aren't you cold?"

Greg and I laughed in unison. "You clearly haven't met many griffons yet, have you?" Greg said. "This is practically tropical weather for them."

"Not quite," I corrected. I pointed my wing to the restaurant. "That place is a sauna for me. Out here, it's basically room temperature."

"Seriously? Damn! Makes me wish I'd been down there for my vacation. My blood's gotten way too thin for Fort Mac winters," Tony said.

"Well being a griffon does have a lot of negatives. But that isn't one of them," I admitted. "And yeah, I guess you wouldn't have run into many griffons yet. As far as I know, we don't have any that far north."

Tony looked a bit thoughtful as he nodded. "We've gotta find time to chat, and catch up. I'm not flying back up until Sunday, do you have any plans for Saturday? I've got stuff to do during the day, but maybe we could hook up for dinner and some drinks?"

"Sure, I'm free. What do you have in mind? O'Hallahans sadly didn't survive Covid," I said, naming our old watering hole.

"I heard that. Why don't you pick? Is there a place where I can get a bit of a griffon experience maybe?"

"Sure, there's Griffiths up north a bit. How about it, Greg?"

Greg nodded. "My schedule's clear. Why don't we work out the details tomorrow?" he said, noting that more of our party was arriving.

A few minutes later, our room was ready and the host led us through the restaurant. The private room had two flat top grills, with tables and seats set up around the outside. They had even found a short stool for me, ready to slide in wherever I decided to sit. I picked a spot at the far corner of the room, as far from the entrance as I could get so I would be out of the way of the waiters. Tony snagged the seat next to me, and the rest of the group mingled to fill the rest of the spots.

Drink orders were taken while we studied the menus. I was sorely tempted to order a hot sake, but with how I was feeling I decided it wasn't wise. I stuck with ginger ale.

"Just a pop?" Tony asked once the waiters were gone. "Are you trying to save money? You know you don't have to; my company's paying tonight. Or can griffons not handle alcohol?"

I chuckled and fluttered my wings to try and cool a bit. While the room wasn't too hot, it was warmer than I preferred. "No, we can handle it. I just don't want any tonight. For griffon reasons," I assured him."Don't worry, I'll make sure your trip budget gets a good workout from the food."

True to my word, I picked a steak and lobster option from the menu. While it wasn't the most expensive item, it was higher than I normally would have picked and easily offset the cheapness of my drink. I hadn't been to a teppanyaki place in a long time, so I was interested to see how my new body would handle it. The fact that the chef basically chopped everything up before it got to me was appealing.

After we had ordered and before the first round of appetizers, I excused myself and slipped around the room to the main restaurant and headed for the women's restroom. By an unspoken agreement, the griffon and human communities seemed to have decided we fell into the 'womens' category when it came to restrooms, even if it felt strange to go there instead of the men's room. It still embarrassed me to walk into a public room and find a woman already there, and they often didn't seem to know what to make of me either.

Thankfully, this restroom was empty when I entered. It had two normal sized stalls and an accessible stall. The room itself was decked out in a Japanese theme. I claimed the larger accessible stall, glad I had enough room to get my tail in and close the door. In a pinch I could, and sometimes had used regular stalls. In those cases, I either had to leave the door open, or I had to press my tail feathers down to the floor, and I didn't like doing either of those things.

While the restaurant was higher class, I realized their restroom supplies were bog standard. The toilet paper rolls were the big commercial grade single ply ones that tore if you looked at them wrong, or, in my case, grazed them with a talon. At least the toilet was set a bit further from the wall so I could actually reach back to the dispenser and get enough to clean up.

As I cleaned up, I had a revelation; My heat had finally broken. The urges were fading, even though I was still horny as hell and my breasts were heavy with milk. I took a few extra moments in the stall, doing a mental assessment. I concluded that I could certainly get through the rest of the evening now, even if I still yearned for something.

"Fuck you. I beat you, you bastard," I mumbled as I flushed, taunting the hormonal beast that had crippled me for five months and counting.

The door opened and I froze and fell silent. Once again I suddenly felt like a guy caught in the gal's washroom. The newcomer didn't go to a stall, but went to the sinks, turning on the water; I was tempted to wait her out. Instead, I opened the door and walked out.

June, one of the Geologic's managers, was at the sink washing her hands. She looked up at me, obviously surprised.

"Hi Simon, I... I didn't think you would be in here."

I tried to seem unthreatening and went to the second sink to start washing. "Well, as the kid's book goes, Everyone poops. Though I didn't need to this time."

"Right, but wouldn't the other bathroom be more appropriate?"

"It's a gray area," I admitted. "The consensus seems to be leaning towards us sharing with the women."

"But you're a guy?" she said, a hint of confusion in her voice. In the mirror I could see her eyes flicker, focusing on my chest, then down below.

I shrugged my wings, "It's a tricky subject. While we do have both down below, I'm now plumbed more like you. I think that's why consensus is going that way. I certainly can't use the urinals any more."

"I see," she said, awareness dawning on her.

I finished washing up and dried my talons. After a final glance in the mirror, I headed back to our tables with her following me.

A large selection of shareable appetizers had arrived while I was out. I sat down and snagged a couple of edamame from a bowl near me. I tossed one into my beak and held it there, breaking the shell and freeing the soybean with my tongue. I swallowed it, shell and all. I was well aware Tony and some of the other guests were watching me closely. I picked up some chopsticks and reached down the table to snag a tempura coated zucchini slice.

"How the hell can you do that?" Tony asked, still staring as the slice followed the edamame.

I clicked the chopsticks together and waved them in the air. "Lots and lots of practice," I said playfully. Now that the furnace in my loins was starting to cool down for another month, I was more willing to relax and have some fun. For the uninitiated, seeing birds, or in this case griffons, eating was often surprising.

He glared at me. "You know what I mean."

I licked the side of my beak and twitched my ears in amusement. I held up the second edamame. "Once more, lots of practice," I said, before tossing it down the hatch.

The soup course was the one part of the meal I hadn't been looking forward to. Liquid food, especially hot liquid food with chunks that was meant to be slurped, was the bane of griffons. Normally I avoided them. In this case, it was part of the meal and thus, unavoidable. Luckily, it was served with bigger ramen-style soup spoons, and it wasn't too hot. So I managed to lap it up and gulp it down without making too much of a mess.

Two Japanese chefs, accompanied with carts loaded with food and sauces, came in as we were working through our salads. The one that came to our side started lining up the raw meats on a cool part of the sheet grill. He lifted up a chicken breast and nodded to me. "Don't worry, it isn't anyone you know," he joked. His expression hinted he'd been waiting since September to make that joke.

The entertainment part of the meal went well. While they weren't the best comedians, they were very skilled chefs. They stacked vegetables, flipped shrimp tails into their caps and otherwise kept everything in motion.

At one point they started flipping samples into the mouths of customers. My chef clearly wanted to toss a chunk to me. Figuring I had an ace up my sleeve, I accepted his offer and partly opened his beak. He hesitated, now not sure what he was about to do.

"Go for it. I can catch it," I assured him, focusing on the sample.

Griffon 'super vision' was well known. We could zoom in and see fine details from a long distance away. What was less well known was how fast we could see. It wasn't as obvious in everyday use, but we could clearly see fast moving things that were just a blur for humans. Birds darting between trees, fast balls pitched in baseball, hockey pucks shot on net, and magician sleight of hand we could see and track easily.

So when he tapped the flipper and set the piece of steak flying, I could clearly follow its arc through the air. When it got close enough I snapped forward and felt my beak latch on the juicy sample. I caught it with my tongue and pulled it in deep enough to swallow. Around me, I heard people clapping. It seemed everyone had been watching my stunt. The chef seemed a little stunned at first.

"Have you been practicing that somehow?" Tony asked as the chef started plating up the main dishes.

"Nope. First time I tried it. Would've been really bad if I'd messed it up. I half expected it to bounce off the end of my beak."

"Seriously?" my old roommate shook his head in amazement, and focused on his meal.

We wrapped up the meal after nine, and I was finally able to head home, after a quick stop at the office for my pack. Flying helped the big meal settle in my stomach.

When I reached home, I was done for the day. While the heat had broken, the urges were still strong, they just weren't being refreshed with the hormonal furnace. I locked the door behind me and headed right upstairs, tossing my bag onto my bed.

I stripped out of my clothes and tossed them into my laundry basket. I flopped onto my bed, my breasts bouncing more with their extra weight. I was completely exhausted. Still, I knew I wouldn't get any rest unless I did something. I fumbled in the bedside drawer and found one of my favorite vibrators.

Without the drive pushing me on, I was able to take my time, slowly playing until the climax rolled through me. I dropped the toy and fumbled weakly to turn off the light before falling asleep.

Friday, March 1

I woke up the next morning, feeling normal again. I stretched out, and took my time cleaning up in the bathroom. I didn't have enough time for a full shower, let alone a bath. I did have enough time to wash off the important areas enough to feel clean. A hair dryer on low heat took care of damp fur.

I picked an outfit similar to the one I wore the day before, but lighter. The panties were thinner and covered a bit less. The slacks-shorts were the same. For the top, I picked a similar pullover that was less thick since I didn't need to worry about leakage today. It still accentuated my breasts a bit more than I liked.

The second day of meetings went a lot better than the first. Without the roaring furnace in my loins, I was better able to focus on the job at hand. It was still a lot of boring meetings and politicking, but when I had to step up to the plate, I was sure I knocked it out of the park.

Innovative Solutions was hosting the group for the second day, and Greg's team had booked a box suite for the hockey game against the Senators that evening. While the CFL had embraced the Griffons and were letting us use their fields in Edmonton and Calgary for the nascent Skyball league, the NHL was still not letting us into their arenas. As such, as the day wrapped up, I was saying good-bye to the Geologics group, not expecting to see them again until the project was further along.

To my surprise, Tony and Greg stopped me, a ticket in hand.

"Thanks guys, I appreciate it, but Rogers Place isn't letting Griffons or Titans in yet," I declined. "I'll see you tomorrow..."

"They aren't? But why?" Tony asked.

I shrugged my wings. "No clue. Something about us not fitting in the seats and insurance and liability reasons I guess."

"Well, it's time to make them smarten up. Take the damn ticket, Simon. I'll walk you in personally if I have to," Greg insisted.

While I had my doubts, I reluctantly took the offered ticket. It was wrapped in a pamphlet with directions on what entrance to use and how to get to the suite level. I finished up my farewells and retreated upstairs to touch base with my other teams to make sure none of the other plates I was responsible for had fallen.

{{#if:f|{{#if:|

 {{{2}}} 

|

}}|

---

}}

It was very tempting to just ignore the ticket and head home. In the end, I knew I couldn't do that to Greg. At the very least, he would be blowing up my phone all night if I didn't at least show up. At most, it would be a blow against our friendship, and I didn't want to do that.

So an hour before game time, I flew out to Rogers Place. The crowd was thick outside, waiting to get in. A game against the Ottawa Senators wasn't exactly a hot ticket, but it was a Friday, and the Oilers were still in the running for the cup, so it looked like it was going to be a pretty full house.

I landed near the Premium Ticket holder entrance, found a spot along the wall, out of foot traffic, and waited. I was feeling more self conscious than usual. Hundreds of fans were waiting to get in, and they all gave me a surprised look. Griffons at an NHL game just weren't a thing. The fact that I scanned the crowd every few minutes didn't help either; something about the eagle stare could be unnerving to humans. While the ticket attendants and security agents noticed me, they were too busy at their stations to ask me to leave.

"Hey Simon! Over here!" The ambient noise was almost too loud for me to pick up the shout, even with griffon hearing. I'd also been getting used to responding more to Skyfire than Simon, so I wasn't quite as attuned to my old name as I was before. Being Simon for the past two days did bring back old habits, so I didn't hesitate too much when I heard the shouts.

Tony and Greg and a couple others were walking up the street to the entrance. I raised my wing and waved to them. "Hey guys!"

We moved to join the lines waiting to get in. Greg stayed close to me, Tony on the other side. "I half expected you to bail on us," he said quietly. "Any trouble?"

"I admit, while it was tempting, I wouldn't do that to you. No trouble... yet," I said. Ahead, the ticket scanner had noticed a griffon in her line, and a couple of security officers were approaching.

"Well, I'll get you in," he assured me.

I still had my doubts, but I could tell he was fired up for a fight. I'd always been a very laissez-faire guy, and becoming a griffon hadn't changed that. My friend, on the other hand, was a fighter. Not a physical fighter, but when a cause got into his head, he would be leading the charge. Letting griffons attend NHL games seemed to be his current cause.

We let the rest of our group scan through first, until it was just the three of us. Tony nudged me to go first, and I presented the ticket.

"I'm sorry, but Griffons are not allowed into the arena yet," the attendant said, sounding uncertain. It was obviously a policy that had been drilled into them since the Change had happened, This was probably the first time she had to impose it. A pair of security agents stood a few steps behind her.

"Not allowed for general admission. But these are suite tickets," Greg said, taking up the fight on my behalf. "Standing room only tickets at that. There's no reason he can't come in with us."

The agent was clearly in a tough spot. "I'm sorry. It's the league policy," she said.

"I know you can't bend policies by yourself. So place the call, get someone down here who can bend it. We'll wait," Greg said. I glanced around and noticed we were attracting more attention. People were taking their time approaching the gate so they could watch. More than a few cameras were recording.

The agent seemed to sense the gathering storm and was visibly relieved to be given an out. She pulled out her radio and called for someone to come to our gate. Greg pulled us slightly out of the way so more guests could use the gate, while being close enough that we couldn't be ignored.

A man dressed in a nice suit showed up surprisingly quickly; I suspected he had been anticipating this encounter. He ignored Greg and Tony and focused on me.

"Hello Mx Skyfire. Welcome to Rogers Place," he greeted me, holding out his hand.

"Skyfire is fine," I said, hesitantly shaking the offered hand. "These are my friends, Greg and Tony."

He acknowledged them, then returned his focus to me. "I'm honored you want to show your support for the team, but it is league policy to not allow non-humans in the arenas at this time. We are planning some improvements over the summer, and we expect to have seating suitable for Griffons and even Titans available next season. But it isn't available right now. We apologize for any confusion and we can refund your ticket."

"That's bullshit!" Greg exclaimed, stepping forward. "We have a standing room only ticket for a box suite. There's no reason he can't join us."

The manager's confidence faltered a moment as he looked at Greg. "That may be, but it is league policy. It's for the safety and enjoyment of all of the fans."

"Screw the policy. Name one legit reason why he can't join us to watch the game." Greg challenged the manager. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone was clear. Around us more cameras were coming out to record the encounter. I really wanted to just take off and put it behind me. Instead, I was the centre of a growing storm of attention.

"It's for the safety of fans. Griffons can't sit properly in our current seats-"

"Standing. Room. Only. Ticket. Box. Suite." Greg countered, enunciating every word clearly. He won't be sitting, and won't be blocking anyone any more than someone else standing in a box seat would block the view.

"Let! Her! In! Let! Her! In!" Around us a chant was starting up from people watching from both sides of the gate. I could almost sense hundreds of video streams hitting the 'net. My ears pressed back and my wings drooped a bit as I tried to seem smaller, wanting to shrink away from the attention.

The manager hesitated again, sensing the mood of the crowd. We could all tell there was a powder keg brewing. The last thing I wanted was a riot to happen, but I had no way to escape or to deescalate the situation. Only the manager could do that. He was clearly struggling, weighing any trouble he might get in for letting a griffon in, against the public relations disaster that would happen if box suite ticket holders rioted. He reached his decision and pulled out a business card.

"Enjoy the game, Mx Skyfire. If you need anything special, please just ask."

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to it." I took the card and stepped through the gate, and suddenly I was on forbidden ground. The first griffon to be in Rogers Place. Around us, the crowd cheered and there were flashes as people recorded the event. I gulped nervously and waved my wing while Greg and Tony came through the gate after me.

We rejoined our group and headed for our suite. Unintentionally, I ended up surrounded by coworkers and our clients. Every step we took, I could sense I was being watched curiously. A few fans approached, but no one could get past the barrier we'd established.

Finally, we reached our suite and went inside. The suite was pretty standard, a serving area with hot food trays already prepared, along with a selection of water, pop, beers and wines. Screens on the wall would show the game for those inside. The back was open, leading to a balcony with a dozen seats looking down to the ice.

I beelined to the drinks and grabbed a cold beer. "You're insane," I told Greg as I popped the tab. "Absolutely insane."

He laughed and grabbed a can of his own, holding it up for me to tap as a toast. "Hey, it worked. You just have to know how to work with corporate inertia, and know when and where to push."

I gulped down a bit of beer, and began to relax. "I just hope it doesn't cause more problems later. Not for me, but for griffs in general."

"Relax, the crowd's on your side here. Sometimes you just need to give people a bit of a shove to realize something doesn't make sense and it's time to change."

I loaded up a plate with wings and other snacks, and began to mingle. Now that I was here, I felt I could relax a bit, the adrenaline rush from the encounter fading. I was glad we weren't doing this when I was fighting a peak.

Before the game started, I took a moment to check my phone. While it was on silent, it had been buzzing almost constantly since I got in. Mostly they were congratulation messages and jealous emojis. I was starting to mentally compose a message, when there was a knock on the suite door.

We looked over, and a stranger was there. He scanned the room and spotted me. "Mx Skyfire, may I speak with you for a moment?"

I spotted a press badge clipped to his pocket and relaxed and went over. "Just Skyfire is fine," I said. "What's up?"

"Well, you are, it seems. My name is Josh Davis, a producer for Sportsnet." Brian had trained me well enough to know what to expect. "The first Griffon at an NHL game. It caught us by surprise, but we would like to draw attention to it. Would you mind speaking on camera with us during an intermission?"

"What would we be speaking about? And what would I need to do?" I asked. I'd been doing these interviews way too often for my likes lately, so doing yet another wasn't something I was looking forward to. Still, this situation was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"I can send a team down here towards the end of the second period, and we can film just out here. They know how to handle the crowds. As for what we speak about, it's just a light interview. Your thoughts on the game, on the arena. Have you been here before? We'd like to know how different it feels now that you're a griffon."

"Spoiler alert, this isn't my first time here, though it is my first time as a griffon of course," I said, nodding. "Sure, I'll do it."

"Great. We'll be down near the end of the second period. It shouldn't take too long."

I watched the producer rush off, and waved to a few stragglers heading for their own suites. I closed the door and refilled my plate.

"Trouble?" Greg asked.

"Not for me. Maybe for you. Sportsnet wants to talk to me during intermission."

"Cool. You okay with that?"

I nodded, and dipped a popcorn chicken in some sauce. "Oh yeah, Brian's been training me well. I've gotten a surprising amount of experience dealing with cameras lately. Just don't let the Marketing team know."

Greg laughed, "You're secret's safe with me... wait, why would that be trouble for me?"

I nudged him with my wing as I headed for the balcony. "You dragged me in here. I'm going to make sure I spread the blame around. Don't worry, I doubt you'll have to say anything, but I am dragging you out there with me."

It was almost time for the teams to hit the ice. I stepped onto the balcony and took a position behind the last row of seats, leaving enough room for others to go by. The arena air was a lot cooler compared to the suite, which was a relief for me. I fluttered my wings and tail a bit to let some of the heat out. Music blared from the speakers as the DJ tried to amp up the crowd. I took in the ambiance, noting how the arena was almost packed.

I shifted my focus down to the ice surface. Our suite was about halfway between centre ice and the home team's net, so the visitor's net was a long ways away. With griffon vision, I could easily see the strands of the net and the wiring for the video equipment.

The noise in the arena changed, cheers coming up from the crowd. I looked expectedly towards the benches, but there was no sign of any players yet. Tony nudged me. "You're on the screen," he said.

I looked up and a startled phoenix was looking back at me from the big screens over centre ice. I stifled my first urge to run back into the suite. Instead, I did a quick look around and found the camera focused on me. I spread my wings wide and waved with a talon. I realized for the first time that my blue top and natural fiery red and orange plumage was pretty close to the Oiler's colours. The cameraman expanded the view to get my full wings in, and the crowd roared louder until he moved on to a new target.

Soon after, the players actually came out onto the ice for their warmups. The anthem was sung and the game was on.

Generally speaking, I'm not a big sports fan. I didn't closely follow any teams and just had a passing acquaintance with the rules. Since becoming a griffon, I hadn't watched a hockey game at all, aside from the demo games at WestEd. So the only thing I knew about who was playing was what I'd absorbed through osmosis mainly.

Still, watching a professional hockey team in person was an experience. The vibes from the crowd were almost physical, and the speed they moved around the ice was amazing. Griffon vision tricks let me track the puck easily, except when it was against the boards in front of me. The speeds involved were simply incredible. When the puck shot across the ice, even I had trouble following it; that the human players were able to somehow follow what had to be a blur for them just boggled my mind. I found myself focused on the play, visually zoomed in close to follow the action.

Midway through the first, the Sens scored the first goal of the night and the crowd let out a disappointed groan. Play was paused soon after for a commercial break, and I was able to relax and sip my beer. I noticed Tony looking at me curiously.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No... No. Nothing's wrong. It's just... You, I guess."

I tilted my head, waiting for him to go on.

"The way you're watching the game. You're staring at it, staring at it... well, staring at it like a hawk. And you aren't blinking. It's inhuman."

"Well, I'm not human any more after all. I'm just following the game. And I do blink, just not with my big lids." I demonstrated, clenching my eyes shut for a moment, then blinking like I usually did, the inner lid flicking across my eyes.

"Yeah, I realize that... and it's probably not the right term. Sorry, it's just a bit weird."

"Weird for me too; I've just had months to get used to it," I assured him.

Play started up again, and I tried to be more aware of what I was doing. I kept a more midrange focus, so I could see more of the ice. As the action picked up, I found myself focusing in again, locking on and tracking the puck. I occasionally was surprised by a player coming in out of nowhere for a check, or to interrupt the pass, but mostly it was just seeing where it went. There were a lot of close saves, rail clangers and goalie catches. In the end, neither team could score before the period was finished..

Once the buzzer sounded, I followed the mob heading to the washrooms and joined the line waiting to go into the women's. Even more than the time at the restaurant, I felt like I was a fake, invading foreign territory. More than a few people gave me a curious look. No one actually said anything that I could hear. The line to get in was long, but moved surprisingly quickly.

Before I knew it, I was in the restroom, and it felt strange. It wasn't really different from the men's room; just with more stalls and no urinals. Still, for all my life, it had been a forbidden zone, and now I was going in. I focused on some of the walls, noting advertising posters set up, and waited for an accessible stall to open up. While the regular stalls seemed a little bigger than normal they were not that much bigger; I figured I could hold it long enough for the larger stall to open.

"First time?"

I flicked my ears and realized someone was talking to me. I looked at a middle aged woman, dressed in orange and blue.

"You could say that," I said, fudging the truth.

She chuckled. "Well, I hope you're enjoying the game."

"It's been a blast," I said. Thankfully a stall opened up and she claimed it.

Soon after, I was able to claim my own toilet and took care of business. I washed up as quickly as I could, and forced myself to check my reflection. I brushed my talons through my feathers and washed my beak so I'd be ready for the next intermission. Despite how busy the washroom was, the sink next to me stayed empty. I got back to the suite with a few minutes to spare.

Second period, the OIlers came out hard and fast. They caught a breakaway within the first couple of minutes, and scored a goal, making the arena cheer. Caught up in the excitement, I raised my wings and hands in celebration, letting out my own happy screech that cut through the cheers. Some of the closer sections looked around, puzzled by the strange sound. I cut it short and lowered my limbs quickly, ears and tail dipping.

Greg nudged me and laughed. "Stop that. It was a good goal, it's fine to celebrate."

"I know, I know. It's just, it's embarrassing to see how I react to things now. Especially when you're the only one who does it."

"Don't think about it. Just be you. People will get used to it. And to be frank, it's rather cute."

I shook my head at him. "Not helping," I said, before ducking back into the suite to get another beer and some more chips.

The game stayed tied through the rest of the period. There were a number of close calls on both sides. Caught up in the game, it made me let out a few more screeches without intending to when the Oilers almost scored.

I was so caught up in the game, I nearly jumped off the balcony when Tony poked me. "What?" I snapped, taking a moment to refocus on the things around me.

Tony backed up quickly and pointed behind us. A cameraman and a reporter were at the door, looking in. "Sorry, you surprised me," I immediately apologized.

"It's okay. You were getting into it."

I snagged Greg and we went to see our guests.

"Hi Skyfire. I'm Stuart McLeary. We're here to record a quick segment for intermission. Is in here fine?"

"Sure," I said, looking around quickly and moving to a spot that would be mostly out of the way of anyone trying to leave the suite. Brian had trained me well over the past few months, so I had an idea of what these guys needed. I positioned Greg next to me and faced the camera man.

"Don't we have a few minutes before intermission?" Greg asked.

"We're basically recording this nearly live," Stuart said, checking our position and moving to my other side. His cameraman lifted up the camera and flicked on a flood light. "So we'll run through the interview now, acting as if we're talking to the guys in the studio, and then the editors will stitch it together into the show when they get the spot. It means you don't have to stand here waiting all break."

"Just relax and enjoy the spotlight. You're my prop for a change," I said to Greg. "I've done this sort of thing many times recently. Just tell me what you need."

They took a minute or two to do a quick sound and light check; making sure the microphone could pick me up clearly and that the lightning picked up my colouring right. Stuart made sure we were ready, then started counting us down, holding his microphone.

"Five, four, three, ..., .... Thanks guys. I'm here with local Edmonton celebrity griffon Skyfire, on what has become a bit of a historic day in local history. She is the first Griffon to attend an NHL game. Tell me, how did this happen?" Stuart opened up before turning the microphone to me.

"Hi there, it's good to be here. Honestly, it was completely unexpected, and all the fault of my boss and friend, Greg here." I spread my wing and hugged Greg, making him jump in surprise. "Our company is treating one of our clients tonight, so we rented a suite, and he refused to leave me behind."

Stuart shifted the mic to Greg, who still looked surprised but recovered quickly. "Si-Skyfire has been an important member of our team for years. It didn't seem right to leave hi-her behind."

"So what are your thoughts on the league's policy on Griffons and Titans?" Stuart asked.

"In general, it makes sense. I've met Titans, and neither of us will fit in regular seating. So in general, it makes sense. But it also needs to have a sanity check. While we can't sit in regular seats, we can certainly stand as well as anyone else. When there are standing room options for example, there's no reason to keep us out."

"Is this your first game?"

I shook my head. "I admit, I'm not the biggest sports fan, but before last fall, I usually caught a game or three each year. This is my first game this season of course."

"Of course. Watching it with literally new eyes, how would you describe it?"

"Incredible. It's hard to describe really. It's the same experience, but with a new take."

"And what are your hopes for the future?"

"Well, I've heard Rogers Place and other arenas are planning to establish areas suitable for Griffons and Titans in the off season, so hopefully more feathered and furry fans will be able to attend."

He waited a moment, holding still so the editor could do a cut if needed, then asked his last question.

"Finally, I'd be remiss to not ask you about the Skyball league. Are you looking forward to that?"

"I'm really looking forward to it. I know the griffons on the local teams and they're all pumped to establish a new pro league. And I'd like to give a shout out to the Elks and Stampeders and Roughriders, and the CFL in general for all the support they've given Griffons in putting it together so quickly. It'll be seven months since that event made us Griffons. To be able to create a brand new sport, reflective of our abilities in such a short time is incredible."

"That it is. For people who aren't aware, the inaugural Skyball League will start in mid May. The Calgary Griffons will be hosting the Edmonton Griffons at McMahon Stadium."

He turned back to me. "Thank you Skyfire, and Greg. Enjoy the rest of the game."

I waved a wing, and the light went off. I nudged Greg, pushing him away gently. "You can relax now, it's over."

Stuart chuckled and handed the mic back to the camera man who was packing up his gear. "Thanks for your time. You're a natural."

"Not really. I've just had more practice lately than I wanted. I wasn't expecting the Skyball plug."

"I'm not sure if they'll keep it in, but I figured what the hell. Always good to get people excited. Are you going to go down for it?"

"I'm hoping to. Michelle is trying to sort out transportation. If we go, it'll be one of the biggest trips most of us have taken since September. It would be good to get out."

"Well, in any case, we better get going. Thanks again. Enjoy the game."

I glanced at the screen and confirmed the intermission had started. This time I didn't have to go anywhere, so I just relaxed, watching the zamboni driver clean the ice. I waved to some fans in the seats nearby and chatted with a few people in neighbouring suites. I figured my interview aired when my phone started buzzing with a fresh batch of messages. It was something I was getting used to, figuring I could sort things out in the morning.

The third period was a nail biter, which was quite a trick for griffons, considering I neither had nails nor teeth to bite with any more. Both teams obviously wanted the win, and neither gave an inch. With five minutes to go, I figured we were going to get overtime, and then the Oilers caught a breakaway. The entire arena held their breath as the forward sprinted ahead of the Sens defensemen. I leaned forward against the back of the seat in front of me, squinting to follow the action as close as my eyes could get me. With a shower of ice shards, he skidded to a stop and swung back, firing the puck to the upper left corner of the net. The Senators goalie reached for it, but I could tell he was too slow. It clanged off the top bar and was in. I let out a joyous screech a split second before the buzzer sounded, registering the goal.

The arena roared loud enough to shake the rafters. A few people in the seats in front of me glanced back at the strange noise I made. I didn't care. It took a few moments for the place to settle and the game to continue.

The Sens put in a good effort after that, pulling their goalie for the man advantage in the last minute, but it was to no avail. The game ended 2-1 for the home team, and the arena cheered.

After the game, we lingered in the suite, snacking on the leftover food while waiting for the crowds to dissipate. I knew I could get clear fairly fast; I just had to wade through the crowd to the exit, and then I could take off. At the same time, I wanted to be polite and wait for my party to leave together, so I hung out with them.

"Normally, I'd go looking for a spot for a nightcap, but I think old age is catching up to me," Tony said, catching up to Greg and I. "So I think it's probably best to call it a night and head back to the hotel."

"Yeah, it's been a long day, I'm ready to throw in the towel too," Greg agreed. "How about you Simon?"

"Home sounds good." I turned my screen on and showed them the dozens of messages waiting. "I've gotta do some damage control with the flock before I hit the nest."

"How do you get home?" Tony asked.

I spread my wings and shook them. "Flying of course. In a pinch, I can take the train, but most of the time I just go around with my wings."

"Seriously? You hated walking. You drove everywhere you could. And now?"

"Now, I sadly don't have any other choice. Griffon transportation options are quite limited. It's not bad honestly, when the weather's nice."

"So what's this place you're taking us to tomorrow?" Tony asked.

"Griffiths. It's just north of the Yellowhead, almost at the Hendey. And it was named long before griffons happened," I said. "It's got a restaurant, a bar, a pool hall, and axe throwing."

"So we should plan on dinner and a show?"

"I suppose so. How about we meet there around seven? Greg knows where it is."

I glanced out and the arena was almost deserted now, workers starting to do a cleaning pass. The door to the suite was open and the crowd outside had shrunk to a trickle. I waved my wings, motioning for them to go first.

"That's fine. I'll be done with my stuff long before then," Tony said.

We followed the crowd through the building to the exits. Once we stepped outside, I stretched out and let out a long sigh, feeling the heat seeping away from me. It was glorious. I walked with them most of the way to the parking lot, until the crowd was almost gone.

"Thanks for the evening," I said. "This is as good a spot as any for me to take off. Bye now."

Tony and Greg turned to me and we shook hands briefly before I leaped up. I saw Tony shake his head in amazement and heard him speak to Greg. The words were lost in the wind. I circled over them a few meters up and waved, signing Good Night before setting off for home.

Saturday, March 2

As hard as it was to believe, a form of normality was starting to settle in with the griffons. Many of us were settling into our new lives and starting to feel normal again, even if it was a new form of normal. There were still a lot of unknowns on the horizon, but everyday life was settling into a routine.

One side effect of this was a change for our weekend gatherings. After the holidays, it quickly became obvious that, while the gatherings were good, we were running out of reasons to hold them. Michelle decided that we would drop down to monthly gatherings for now, and she was talking with griffon support leaders in other places about our future. I didn't know the details, but there was a lot of talk about setting up a Griffon-focused social club, similar to the Kin Club or the Lions Club.

For me, the main thing it meant for me, was that my weekends were mostly free again. This weekend, I celebrated my freedom by sleeping in late. The past few days had been exhausting, and I just wanted to sleep and mentally recharge. In the end, I didn't even stir until after nine, and finally got out of bed just before ten.

Most of the morning and afternoon, I spent continuing 'damage control' from the previous night. Griffons from all over were reaching out to me, asking how I had done it and what it was like. I wrote up a few public posts for reddit and other social media to explain and let that talk for me.

What surprised me was when some businesses reached out to me. Places that had suites or were about to rent suites, and wanted to offer some standing room only tickets to the local griffon community. I knew they were looking for social brownie points and I didn't care. I chatted with Michelle and the Calgary flock leaders and passed the buck to them to figure out how best to distribute the offered tickets.

By late afternoon, word was spreading through our community, outlining the ticket opportunities that were coming up for griffon hockey fans. I figured there would be no problem filling the spots.

I took off a little after five, and took my time flying, enjoying the late winter weather. It was cloudy and a little chilly, by human standards. The days were obviously getting longer and the temperature was warming up. All across the city, the snow was taking a beating, water running off into the storm drains. While the river was still frozen, the ice was showing more cracks every day.

Close to seven, I was in a holding pattern circling over the northern part of the city. I was close enough I could see Griffiths, while being far enough away to not be too obvious. There was a steady stream of griffons heading to the bar, hinting it was going to be a busy Saturday there. In the parking lot, I could see a half dozen cars, making it seem less busy than it actually was.

Greg texted me, saying they were taking an Uber. I stopped my circling and dropped down, landing in the parking lot. I waved to a few friends while staying away from the entrance so I wouldn't get pulled into a conversation.

Soon enough an Uber pulled up and two men got out. They looked around, but didn't see me at first. Instead, they focused on a couple dropping down and landing on the cleared patio area. I wandered over while they were distracted.

"Hey guys. How was your day?" I asked.

"Hey Simoh-my-god!" Tony looked at me, then looked away quickly.

I tilted my head curiously, while Greg groaned. "I told you about this on the way over," he said. "It's a griffon thing."

I looked down and realized what he was reacting to. I only had my shorts on and my travel gear. "Yeah, shirt designs are a pain in the back. They haven't really figured out a design that can handle our wings, how our muscles move, cover our chests, and don't wreck our fur and feathers. So when we can, most of us just skip them . Not like we need it for protection. When it rains or snows, it's better to use just our fur than to have wet fabric."

I turned to the restaurant entrance and went in. It was a busy evening, with most of the tables full. Maybe three quarters of the people there were griffons. Tony openly gaped for a moment, obviously not sure where to look.

A human hostess greeted us just inside, grabbing the menus. "Evening, Skyfire. Your reservation is ready. Please, come this way."

She led us to a corner table that was already set up. I fell back from the group, having to greet various friends as we went. I finally reached our table and sat with my back to the room. Tony was facing the room and obviously amazed by what he saw.

"There are so many of you here," he said finally once the hostess left with our drink orders.

I twisted around and looked. I figured there were a couple dozen griffons eating, along with a griffon waitress. "I suppose. But it's not that many really. Edmonton's only got hundreds in total, not even a thousand yet. Down south, that's where most of us are."

"Wow...."

"Keep in mind there are only a hundred thousand of us so far. Most of them south of the border. Maybe about forty thousand Canadian griffons. Barely a small city's worth. Compared to forty million human Canadians. It's going to be a long time before there are ever 'a lot' of us."

Tony shook his head again and picked up the menu. "So what do you suggest?"

Griffiths had a fairly standard bar menu. Burgers and sandwiches were pretty dominant. It also had a lot more bite-sized fare, suitable for beaks. Stir fries and skewers were very common.

"It's all good. Just pick something that appeals to you," I said. "But please pay attention to the pepper scale."

A griffon waitress came over with our drinks and took our orders. She left a bowl of nachos and some salsa for us to snack on while we waited. Tony tried to ask me more about last September, but I avoided the questions, telling him it was a subject better for after dinner. We chatted on safer topics, catching up in general over the meal.

A local band was going to play at the bar later that evening. To spare our ears, I spoke with our waitress as I settled the bill, and made sure it was okay for us to linger for a bit over our drinks. With her permission, I bought another round of drinks and prepared myself for a rough story.

Once we were comfortable, with fresh drinks and a fresh plate of nachos, I started into the story. I held almost nothing back, going into almost all the details. For the evening, we were not employer-employee-client; we were just old college roommates catching up on a major life event. As I went on, I watched their expressions, trying to tell if I'd gone too far. They listened intently, showing their horror, anger, wonder and confusion about the event. Technically Greg had heard it all before; hell he had lived through some of it and I made sure to point it out. But this was the first time he got it all in one dose, and it was obvious he'd never fully put all the pieces together.

I finished up the story and focused on my drink. A couple of refills had shown up during the tale, so the beer was pretty full. I didn't look at my friends and just gulped it down. I put the mug down and felt a hand take mine. By the end, it was feeling more like one of my sessions with Adam, and I was feeling a bit bad for shovelling everything on them.

"Damn, Simon. I never really realized that," Greg said, squeezing my hand comfortingly.

"You never had to. It's not your responsibility," I reassured him. "Sorry, I probably went a bit deep there. I missed my weekly with Adam, and I guess I needed an outlet."

"Adam?" Tony asked.

"His psychiatrist," Greg said.

"Yeah, he's been a huge help, for all of us. And I only started going because of Greg here. Well Greg and my parents." I looked longingly at my empty mug and glanced around the room. It was almost empty now as the restaurant part was winding down for the day. "The thing is, my story isn't unique at all. Everyone who's got feathers now, here in this building, in this city, and beyond, we've all got similar tales. And I'm not just talking about the one on my ass. We've probably made the careers of dozens of head docs in the past few months."

Tony finished his own mug of beer and shook his head again. "Well, they're doing good work. As are you. Until you told me all that, I had no idea. I'd heard about it, but never like that. You're holding things together surprisingly well."

"You have no idea," I said. "Many times it's just a matter of pushing through and taking it one day at a time. And some days are better than others." I hesitated a moment. "You have no idea how close Thursday was."

"What was Thursday?"

"Remember I went over those peaks we experience? Thursday was one of my peaks. Greg knows I've been hermitting up during them, but I had to come out for you guys. It was the first time I've been in the office during those events."

"Shit, you should've warned us. We could've figured something out...."

"It was my fault. I didn't realize the date until a couple weeks before. Hell when we first scheduled, my peaks were on Wednesdays so we figured we were fine. Our biology is just screwy it seems."

Tony took his turn to squeeze my hand. "Sorry man. I wish I'd known. Next time, let me know. We'll work around it one way or another."

I nodded my thanks to him. "Don't worry about it. In the end, I think it was a good thing. I've been working on some tactics to handle those better, and they do seem to be working. That just pushed me more than I expected."

I glanced around again and stood up. "I think we've spent enough time here. They need to finish closing up. Let's go into the bar area and listen to whomever's wailing over there tonight."

The bar area was busy when we got there, most people mingling and enjoying the live music. A local country-rock band was playing, mostly human with a griffon drummer. I scanned the room and noticed a pair of griffons waving for my attention.

"Hey Skyfire, you looking for a table?" one of them asked.

"We are, but you don't have to-" I said, seeing them already standing up. Both of them were obviously pregnant.

"It's no big deal. Time for us to head home anyway. The little ones get antsy if we're out too long," the other said, rubbing her belly bulge.

"Well then, thank you. Have a good flight home."

Greg went to the bar to get the next round, while Tony and I sat down.

"It was nice of them to give up their table. Do you know them? I guess they wanted a night away from their husbands?" Tony asked.

I laughed a little at his misunderstanding. "I know them a bit. They've come out to a few gatherings. And no, they aren't avoiding their husbands. They're a couple. Danny and June, husband and wife. And yes, they are the father to each other's babies."

I could see Tony's confusion as he tried to sort out the situation. He was only partially saved by Greg arriving with three mugs and a bowl of peanuts. I let him stew on that for a bit and focused on the band for a bit. While it wasn't really my type of music, they were pretty good.

A few songs later, I noticed Tony was looking around curiously, obviously puzzled by something new. I looked around as well, and didn't find anything amiss. There were about a hundred people in the bar watching the show and just having a good time. Most of them were griffons.

Finally, he leaned closer to me to ask his question. "I gotta ask. How can you tell the difference?"

"What difference?" I asked back.

He waved vaguely towards the bar area where the usual meat market for singles was happening. "Difference between the guys and the gals," he said. While we hadn't been drinking a lot, the alcohol was obviously loosening our tongues.

I suspected I knew what he was asking, and decided to toy with him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to explain what he was asking about. Taking pity, I let him off the hook.

"Don't forget, we're herms now. We've got both things in our pants. The Guy/Gal distinction doesn't really matter, as you saw earlier with Dan and June. Sure, most of us hang onto our old pronouns and feelings somewhat, but it's fading. Biology's a bitch. With the heats and the ruts and the eggs, it's hard to hang on to those old distinctions."

He still looked confused. "So you're not interested in girls any more?"

I shook my head and looked around the room. "Nope, not really. Nor am I interested in guys either. I am interested in griffons though."

"In what ways?" Greg asked, joining into the conversation. "What do you look for in a griffon?"

I shrugged my wings. "Well, honestly, I'm not the best guy... best griff to ask, since I'm not in the market. But in general, I look at feather and fur quality, see how they're taking care of themselves. Strong wings are good too, clean talons and claws, a nice tail. Plumage patterns can catch my eye occasionally, but people can't change those so I don't think of that. Firm breasts, and good hips and musculature and so forth. A lot of the same things you look for I guess."

My friends looked around again, obviously trying to see through griffon eyes. I decided to give them a hand. I spread my wings slightly to hide the pointing I was doing and indicated a table where a lone griffon was sitting.

"Take that bald eagle griff over in the corner, by herself. She's here just for the show I'd say. Probably coming out for a break after coming off her peak. Her feathers are ruffled and her wings are slouching."

I pointed vaguely towards the bar. "The trio over there on the other hand, they're obviously out fishing. Wings held high, ears up, feathers and fur combed to the nines, a bit of gloss on their talons and beak and they're scanning the crowd trying to catch people's eyes."

We watched the trio on the hunt while trying not to be too obvious about it. Griffon ages were hard to tell as we'd all basically been reset to our mid-twenties biologically. Judging from their body language, I figured one was older, probably my age, while the other two were younger and less experienced. While the trio obviously knew each other, they were not a group.

One locked her eyes on someone across the room and started moving her hands. I recognized a standard GSL greeting, and turned to figure out who she was signalling.

"What's happening?" Tony asked.

I found her target, another well made up griffon. She signalled back and was working her way across the dance floor.

"Looks like she found someone she knows. Or at least someone who's interested," I narrated. "They're using GSL. Griffon Sign Language. Much easier than shouting across a noisy room."

The first griffon met the other a few steps away from the bar. They stopped signing and were obviously talking now. The pair returned to the bar and the newcomer signalled for a drink. Their wings rubbed lightly together while they chatted. I stopped watching and grabbed a handful of peanuts.

"Speaking of GSL, how's the app going?" Greg asked, grabbing on an obvious topic change before things grew too uncomfortable.

"Still awkward," I acknowledged. "We've got some ideas and stuff, but it's rough. Doesn't help that I've got a horrible head for languages. I can barely wrap my mind around it as is."

"Luckily it isn't just you. Cardi's been a huge help from what I've heard." Greg said.

I felt my face redden a bit, ears pressing down and I gulped down a bit of beer. "Yeah, she's great. The only reason I know as much as I do," I admitted. "Of course, part of the problem is that GSL's a moving target. We've already developed Canadian and American dialects as is, and now some people are incorporating wing signs too."

"Well, I'm sure you'll work something out," Greg said.

We shifted our focus to the band for a song and let the topics drop. Towards the end of the song, I happened to glance back at the trio. The first one and her new partner were close together now, wings rubbing more and bordering on some intense public displays of affection. The other two were still obviously on the hunt. I noticed a woman, a human in her late twenties I figured, approaching the pair.

"This should be interesting," I said softly. "Watch the cougar... that is the actual cougar griff."

The woman reached the younger of the two griffons and started talking. She was obviously nervous, while the cougar griffon seemed intrigued.

"You think she's a ... what are they called?.... A furry?" Tony asked.

"Possibly," I admitted. "But I doubt it. There's been a lot of interest and curiosity in general, not just from that community. Now that there are three intelligent species on Earth, it sort've blurs a lot of lines we didn't pay attention to before. Especially since there are a lot of mixed partners too."

"Would it be safe if they did hook up?" Greg asked. After the number of beers we'd had, this topic was flowing surprisingly easily.

"Sure. Griffons and humans are basically the same size, especially down below. If you're thinking about how we are equipped, well, it's mostly for looks and stimulation. I've heard it feels different but doesn't actually hurt. Which raises the curiosity aspect."

"Some griffons actually like to have a human partner, or partners. They say it helps take the edge off the peaks with minimal risk. As a species, we're STD free for now, and there's no pregnancy risk with human partners," I explained further. While I hadn't actively sought out that information, I'd heard a number of stories and read many articles in passing.

The pair chatted for a bit, but couldn't seem to reach an agreement. The woman wandered away, obviously disappointed. The griffon resumed scanning the room for other targets. I suspected the griffon was looking for a male partner, probably close to her heat.

"So, I've gotta ask. You've experienced it both ways right? Which is better?" Tony asked as we paused our griffon watching.

The question nearly sobered me up and I hesitated a moment, not sure what I wanted to say. I decided to answer honestly. "Honestly? It's different, but both ways are equally good. As a guy, it's rather intense and focused, while as a girl, it's more... I don't know, more spread out? Less focused? But still great."

Greg laughed, "Wow, I never thought I'd hear you talk about that. You really have changed, Simon."

I waved the mug and grinned, ears twitching happily. "Blame the beer. A few fewer bottles and I wouldn't have said a word."

We continued chatting through the rest of the evening, with a few more beers. Tony went to get refills, and came back with some extras; three small boxes labelled with various heat indicators.

"Look what I saw at the bar. Remember these one-chip challenges?"

"Yeah, I thought they were banned a few years ago. I hated those things," I replied, glancing at Greg. He smirked and winked back at me.

"You barely lasted five minutes if I recall correctly. So how about it? You want to give it a new shot?" Tony sipped his beer and pushed the boxes to the middle of the table.

"I'll pass," Greg quickly said. "My stomach couldn't handle them back then. It certainly couldn't handle it now."

"Those things taste like cardboard," I said, then sighed theatrically and took a deep drink from my beer. "Fine, we can do it."

"First to drink after eating loses," Tony said, opening the boxes.

I picked up the tortilla chip with the tips of my talon and examined it. It was heavily laden with the pepper spices. Even with my diminished sense of smell, I could pick up a hint of something.

"Ready?" Tony asked, holding out his chip.

I held my own near his, so we could see they were similar. We touched them lightly as a toast.

"Ready," I said and popped it into my beak.

I closed my beak and used my tongue to crush the chip up. The spices hit my tongue a bit stronger than I had expected; while I'd been ordering top level spices across the city since I'd changed, this was a level above that. I blinked a bit, eyes watering a little and kept breaking up the chip. My tongue burned a little, but not unbearably so; it was around the levels I used to consider 'very hot' and now regularly ordered at Thai places that knew how to serve griffons. I swallowed the mass and looked at my friend.

Tony was making a number of strange expressions as he struggled with the chip. His face was red and his eyes and nose were running. His jaw moved slowly as he struggled to break it up to the point he could get it down. Finally he did a big gulp and started panting.

"Done!" he gasped out, eyes still watering. He wiped his nose with a napkin and looked at me. "What the hell?"

"Done as well," I said, opening my beak and wiggling my tongue. "It was tasty, but the chip was quite stale. Tasted like spicy cardboard."

"But... But..." he paused and waved his hand in front of his mouth, struggling to find his words and to fight the chip. "You aren't reacting!"

I picked up a napkin and dabbed at the damp feathers around my eyes. "I am a little. They do have a nice kick."

Greg laughed and took pity on our friend. "And that's another aspect of griffons you just learned. Capsaicin just doesn't hit them as hard. They've developed a reputation for liking the spicy stuff."

"Yeah, you have to be a bit more prudent when you go to Thai and similar places around the city now. Make sure you stick with the human spice chart; the griffon one will blow you out of the restaurant," I said.

"That chip, I'll admit, was at the high end for even my preferences. It's just nowhere near our limits it seems. I could probably order a bowl of fresh nachos with similar seasoning and avoid the marketing surcharge."

Tony stared at me, still struggling with his insides. He was clearly debating whether to yield or to keep the challenge going. I just watched him, trying to look as nonchalant as I could; my gullet was churning through the spices, a little unhappy with the chemical load, but not protesting as much as Tony's stomach was.

While we were staring off, a griffon waiter showed up, setting down two big glasses of milk. "On the house, guys. You look like you could use them," she said, ears twitching in amusement.

I nodded my thanks, and slid one glass closer to Tony. Tony defiantly glared at us, doing his best to resist.

"Fuck!" he finally exclaimed and started gulping the milk down. The glass was drained in seconds and I offered the second one to him. The redness was immediately fading from his face.

"No, I'm good," he gasped out, wiping his face again, his breathing slowing back down to normal levels.

I sipped the milk and felt it soothing the burning of my tongue and beak. I didn't drain the glass and left it half filled in case Tony needed more.

"Thanks Clark, we're good now," I said to the waiter.

"No problem. Just wave me down if you need anything else."

The challenge done, we continued our catching up session. The topics we covered weren't exactly work friendly, but they were enlightening. We kept an eye on the bar, seeing a few more griffons on the hunt, some successful, some striking out.

"So, is she?... he? ... it? Uhm.... can you tell what they are after?" Tony asked. "What the hell do you call yourselves?"

I shrugged my wings, thankful the music was loud enough to make it hard for others to overhear. "I'm not sure. I've heard all the pronouns lately. And honorifics. He, She, It, They, Zim, Zir, Hir, Zie. At least Mx seems to be what people are picking for the honorifics. Everything else, your guess is as good as mine."

I peeked over at the bar to see who Tony was referring to. An eagle griffon was talking to a crow. "I can't tell," I said after a few moments. "I'm not active enough on the dating scene to be able to tell. I suspect they may be in a male mood."

Tony shook his head and refocused on his drink. "Damn, that's all too complicated for me. Not sure how they do it."

"Too complicated for me; but I've never really been in the dating scene to begin with," I agreed. "As for how they do it, they're still figuring it out too. And probably still tripping over what they used to be too. Once the natural griffons are old enough, I'm sure the dating scene will be completely different."

"Natural griffons?" Greg asked.

"The babies. None are born yet, but there are a lot of pregnant griffs out there as you may have noticed. We're going to have a baby boom when they start popping."

"So how about you? You thought of having a little griffon of your own yet?" Tony asked innocently.

"Hell no!" I exclaimed louder than I intended. A few of our neighbouring tables looked our way. I continued a bit quieter, wings drooping from embarrassment. "That sort of thinking might be one of the reasons I'm so screwed up in the first place. But I don't want any kids, either as a father or a mother."

"Sorry, didn't mean to touch a nerve," Tony noted.

"It's okay. It's a fair question. But don't worry Greg, I won't be taking any maternity leave any time soon."

We stayed until the band finished performing and the bar started playing prerecorded music. Greg called for an uber shortly before the last call, and we went outside to wait. The night air was cold and felt great after being inside all evening. I spread my wings and shook a bit, feeling better already.

Tony and Greg shivered, buttoning up their coats. Tony stared at me and shook his head. "Yeah, you guys will be popular up at For Mac I think. You make me cold just looking at you."

"Well, wait until we get through summer. We don't know what the heat will do, or the molt will be like," I said.

"In any case, I hope you can make your way up there soon. Good luck with your bike."

"Thanks. It should work out. Lots of other griffs have already gone that route. It is a bit scary to imagine being on the highways again with nothing around me."

"At least you'd be able to fly off if you had to," Greg pointed out.

"Not likely, not at highway speeds at least, even with griffon reflexes. We still obey some of the laws of physics."

Tony offered his hand to me. "We'll have to do this again next time I'm down. And it won't be as long as last time."

I took the hand, and impulsively pulled him into a hug. I felt him stiffen for a moment, then relax as I patted his back. He tentatively patted my sides, not able to get around my wings.

"I'm looking forward to it," I said, letting him go. He stared at me, a little stunned.

"Yeah, looking forward to it. Damn, your fur is soft... softer than I expected." He shook his head. "You okay to fly home?"

"Sure, I've done it before, in a lot colder temps than this. It's a good way to work off the beer too. Have a safe trip back to Fort Mac."

The uber arrived and Greg excused himself to flag the driver down.

"Thanks Simon. I'm sorry this happened to you, but I'm glad we still have you around. "

"Happy to be around."

I waited while they got into the uber. The driver looked at me, half expecting me to squeeze into the van. I suspected he was used to bringing tipsy griffons home. I shook my head and waved him off, while Greg and Tony waited. A few minutes later, they were on the road and I was in the air.

Saturday, March 9

Almost six months after the change, and things were becoming routine again. The egg came on time, and this time I cleaned it out and kept the shell intact. A griffon had asked us to save our emptied eggs for an Easter event she was running at her school. I wasn't sure if I was going to donate my egg, so I kept it whole so I could decide later.

Work was surprisingly normal despite my new look. I split my time between GriffTech and the Mitchell account, and somehow found time to keep an eye on our southern customers. Most of them could be handled remotely, and when we did need to send someone down, we did manage to find a tech we could send. Still, I was feeling pressure to go down in person and smooth out a few rough areas, and to finalize some deals our sales department was making in the Griffon lands.

So with that need gnawing at the back of my mind, I found myself circling over MacLean's Motor Sports on Saturday. They were located west of the city, on the outside of the Hendey, on the Yellowhead Highway heading towards Spruce Grove. It was a large paved lot, with a big building containing a warehouse-garage and a large showroom. Most of the lot was fenced off. It was obvious they were changing seasons, with only a few snowmobiles left in the lot, and a lot of four wheelers and towing trailers set up in the fenced in yard.

I landed in the parking lot near the entrance and brought up a few websites on my phone. In the showroom I could see dirtbikes, jetskis, four wheelers and other motorized toys on display. A salesperson did a double take, seeing me outside.

I fluttered my wings a bit and walked through the door. The showroom was large and crowded. Towards the back, I spotted what I was after, a dozen varieties of motorcycles and a motortrike. Before I could head that way, a salesperson came up to me.

"Good day, I'm Clark. Can I help you?" he asked, hesitating slightly.

"Yeah, I'm looking for wheels. Cars don't work for me any more, but you have some other options that might work."

"Sure, what sort of wheels are you looking for?"

"Something I can ride obviously. And something that is suitable for the highway. I want something I can use to go between cities."

He nodded and started towards the back of the showroom. "Right, so you must be looking for a motorbike? Do you have a license?"

"Not yet, I'll be getting one this spring. I'm not looking to pull the trigger yet, but I wanted to get a feel for it. I've been reading about what other Griffons have suggested and want to try some for myself."

"Of course, I'll help in any way I can. Do you have more ideas about what you are looking for?"

"Something stable. With some storage. I mainly want to use it to go from city to city, so I need luggage and gear. It would be useful for grocery runs in city too; to save delivery costs." I studied the bikes that were lined up along the back wall. "I'll admit, I do have one bike in mind, but I want to try a few before showing my hand."

"Sure. As you can probably tell, these ones are not really suitable. They are more for racing or off-roading. From this one on, are the cruisers and touring bikes and others suitable for long hauls."

I started checking out the bikes. A few I eliminated right away. "These are no good. I need one without much of a back, so my tail has room," I said, moving down the line. I stopped at a big bike and looked closer. "May I sit on this one?"

"Of course. Give it a try, see how it fits."

"Just to warn you, I've never ridden a bike before in my life. Well, pedal bikes but not a motor bike. I drove cars for years before."

Clark grinned, "And I've never fitted a bike to a griffon before, so we're both learning. Just straddle the bike and try to reach the controls and feel the balance. Don't worry, they're spaced far enough apart you shouldn't knock too many over if you tip over."

With that thought planted I approached the bike. There was about a meter space on either side; if I tipped, I would certainly hit the next bike but they wouldn't fall further. "Maybe you should show me how."

"Of course. Everyone tends to have their own style. This is my preferred style," Clark said. He went to the high side of the bike and stepped on the running board. He grabbed the handles and stood up on it. He swung his leg over the seat and sat down. He looked back at me, and then stood up and dismounted in a similar way. "See? Not too difficult right?"

"RIght," I said. He moved out of the way, letting me get into position. I could feel multiple pairs of eyes on me; there were a few more sales people in the store, and a couple of customers, and everyone was watching me. I reached for the handles, trying to be careful of the levers.

"Don't worry, the bike is off, so the levers won't do anything. Grab them if you feel it makes you more secure."

I adjusted my grip and put my paw onto the board. I swung up and over the saddle and got my paw on the other board. I lifted my tail a bit and sat down, trying to get into a good position.The bike tilted from side to side as my weight made it shift. It somehow stayed upright and stabilized once I stretched a paw down to the ground. It was a stretch and put a lot of strain on my claws and toe tips.

"How's it feel?" Clark asked, coming up to stand beside me. "Reach for the controls, see how it feels."

I studied the dashboard, recognizing the layout as one similar to a car's layout. A few things were in different places, but nothing was difficult to reach. Clark started pointing out the controls, especially some of the ones I would need to use with my paws. Those ones felt especially awkward, but I wasn't too worried. The griffon sites had suggestions for simple modifications that could be made to make them compatible with our physiology. He also helped me get into a better riding position, leaning forward in the saddle. I looked back over my shoulder and made sure my tail feathers were over the back of the seat and above the wheel, even if I pushed down.

Satisfied by what I felt, I swung off the bike and stood up. I looked the other bikes over and realized something I hadn't noticed in my online checks.

"Are these removable?" I asked, tapping the backrest on one of the bikes. I'd been dismissing some of the bikes because the back rest would be impossible to use with my tail.

Clark pulled one of them off, like lifting the headrest of a car seat in a car. "Some of them are. Others are fully built in."

"Good to know. Changes my expectations a bit." I got off the latest bike I was trying and started towards the end of the line. "I think I've seen enough. You see, I've been looking online and debating my options, and I've settled on a trike actually."

At the end of the line was a single motorized tricycle with two wheels on the front and a single wheel at the back. The front was reminiscent of a small car, while the back was pure motorcycle. I swung up onto it and started studying the controls and the riding position. Since it had three wheels, I was able to get a better sense of the balance.

"An excellent choice. Do you know much about these?" Clark asked.

I woke my phone up and brought up the website. "A little. Enough to know you are the main dealer in the city. I'm looking to order an electric version of it as well."

"Those are a bit more difficult to get in. It might take a month or two for us to get it," Clark said while looking at the stats of my choice.

"That's fine; my training doesn't start until April and I won't have my license until almost May. I'm going to be training on bikes too, so I'll be able to ride two wheelers as well."

"Excellent. I'm surprised you can get training here, given your condition."

"Yeah, I was lucky. There's already a few biker griffons in our flock here, and one has signed up to be a teacher with a local company. Once the snow's gone, we'll get going."

Clark motioned towards an office nearby. "In that case, let's get you started on your journey. Assuming you're ready to order your bike now?"

"Honestly I hadn't planned on it, but there's no time like the present. Especially if it'll take a few months to actually get it. Let's go."

In the office, Clark was able to match my wishlist bike to what he could order. I had decided early on I wanted an electronic version, which limited my choices somewhat. Soon enough, he had placed the order and we were chipping away at the mountain of paperwork needed to finance it and cover the down payment.

An hour later, we were done. Clark escorted me back out onto the sales floor. I was tucking a pile of paperwork into my travelbag, my savings account significantly lighter.

"We'll call you when it comes in. It should take about a month or so, maybe a bit longer. If you change your mind within a week, we can cancel it easily and refund your down payment. After that, if you cancel there will be some extra charges."

"Perfect. From what I'm reading, there are some simple customizations I'll want to have done. They make the pedals easier to use with paws and protect the tail a bit more. Once I find a spot to do that in town, I'll let you know and we can coordinate things. Hopefully I'll have the right license by then too."

We shook hands and I looked around the showroom one last time. Finally I waved a wing to the other sales people and left.

Tuesday, March12

Rob and I were standing at a whiteboard in his workspace, hashing out some ideas for a project, when I heard my name. My ears twitched towards the noise and I paused, whiteboard marker in hand. Rob looked puzzled as I turned and saw an office runner over near my office, asking where I was. A couple of people pointed him towards us.

"What is it?" Rob asked, turning to look where I was looking.

The runner was coming towards us, carrying a large box. I knew what it was, though I hadn't expected it to get in today. It was the next small step for me regaining my mobility.

"Skyfire?" the runner asked needlessly. "This was dropped off for you downstairs."

"Thanks Tim," I said, taking the box. It was a standard Amazon shipping box. I was tempted to put it to the side, but Rob was obviously curious about it.

"Do you mind if I open it now?" I asked Rob, setting the box on his bench. Thankfully our planning was at a percolation stage so it wasn't a major interruption.

"Not at all. What is it?"

I pierced the tape with a talon and tugged the box flaps open. Something shiny and reddish orange was nestled in the packing peanuts. Rob pulled out his garbage can while I scooped out the packing peanuts enough to pull it free.

At first glance, it was a custom painted motorcycle helmet, with a visor, built in camera and bluetooth speakers. The helmet had orange and red flames painted on it, to match my new name. I lifted my wing and compared it to the helmet colours and was pleased.

"Nice," Rob said, admiring it. A few heads popped over the cubicle walls, curious about what was going on. "Does it fit?"

"It better. These guys are supposed to be specializing in Titan and Griffon safety gear," I said. I checked the inside and cleared out a few stray peanuts. It looked small, but they assured me it would fit most griffons.

I flipped it over and took a deep breath before slipping it onto my head. I felt it press down on my feathers and squeeze my ears a bit. There were a few notches in the padding so the ears weren't pressed in too much. The front extended a bit further than usual so there was plenty of room for my beak. Straps brushed my neck, ready to hold it in position; I just left them loose for now. The world was muffled and the visor darkened things a little, but all in all it felt okay.

"How is it?" Rob asked, his voice sounding fainter. It was a bit disorienting as I couldn't twitch my ears around as much to focus on noises.

"Seems good," I confirmed, turning my head and looking around. I did my visual zoom to look out the windows and had no problems with it.

"I take it, you need this for your bike plans?"

"I don't need need this, but I prefer it," I confirmed. "Saskatchewan has already officially given Griffons a helmet exemption, and Alberta's working on the exemption now. Still, I wanted to have something if I was going to be out on the highways."

I took it off again and took a closer look. I noted the power and data ports, hidden in unobtrusive locations. The lens of the camera was barely noticeable.

"Is it legal?" Rob asked.

"They aren't certified yet, but they're working on it. They've passed the basic tests and assure us it's mainly paperwork and red tape holding things up," I said.

"Well, it looks great. So what's next?"

"Next is training. Learning to ride a motorcycle. I've booked some lessons in April with a local place. They say they can handle griffons too, so I'm looking forward to it."

Anticipating his next question, I tapped on my phone and brought up an image of a motortrike, a three wheeled electric beast I'd picked out. I showed it to him.

"This is what I've got ordered. Should be in next month. Since I'm planning to mainly use it for highway driving, I wanted something a bit beefier than just a bike. But I'm going for a full cycle license so I have more options."

"Sweet ride. Give me a call when it comes in, I'll want to check it out."

I started flipping through more pictures and brought up the specs. "Of course. You can come over any time. I won't be getting it right away anyways; there's a local customizer shop that has to make some griffon-adjustments to it first."

We chatted about my plans a bit more, before getting back to work.

At the end of the day, I decided there was no point in putting things off. I put the helmet on and adjusted the straps. We didn't really have much of a chin to hold it in place, so there was a more complicated neck strap setup to make sure it would stay put. I synced it up with my phone and made sure that connection worked, and headed out with the visor up. It made me feel a bit self conscious to wear it. Most people just admired and complemented it.

Before taking off, I fired up the camera, and started recording. I took off and climbed up above most of the downtown towers. The weight of the helmet and the muffling of my ears threw me off a little, until I got used to it.

I took my time flying home, doing a bit of an aerial tour of downtown and the southern part of the city. I tried to keep my movements steady so the video wouldn't be too jerky. Supposedly the camera had some steadicam magic built in to keep the image clear; I had no idea how it would work.

At home, I downloaded the video and checked it out. Even with the steadicam magic, the camera jerked around a bit more than I expected or remembered, but the views were incredible. It was obvious why Griff-cam videos had been popular since we took to the air. I saved the video locally, not intending to post it, and settled down for the evening.

Tuesday, March 19

The Titans anniversary was fast approaching, and no one knew what to expect. Theories were a dime a dozen, and we wouldn't know until the days passed.

Most people hoped for a quiet day, where nothing happened. That would mean it was a one and done event, and the travel restrictions into the territory could finally be lifted.

Some hoped it would revert, all the Titans would change back to humans. What it would mean for the pregnant Titans was left unsaid. Few actually believed it would happen.

A good portion hoped the event would fire again, turning a fresh wave of humans around the region into Titans.

And almost everyone expected it would happen again, just somewhere else.

Of course the added wrinkle to the equation was that no one knew when it would happen. The official anniversary was March 20th. But many pointed out that it actually happened on the Spring Solstice, and due to the leap year, the Solstice was landing on the 19th this year.

So as a precaution, authorities were closing down the area for the entire week. While humans weren't completely barred from going in, checkpoints were set up on all the roads to make sure they were aware of the risks, especially on Tuesday and Wednesday; the two days they figured were most likely to have something happen.

The stats on who was planning to stay through it were interesting. The biggest proportion by far were the locals; families that had been separated by the Change last year and were looking to get back together; wives who had been pregnant, spouses and other family members who had been out of the area the first time, along with teens who had aged into the range.

The next biggest group were the hopefuls; older folk who wanted the fountain of youth, or sickly folk looking for the cure. Volunteers for scientific study were also in this group; those willing to be monitored while the Change happened to try and figure out how it worked.

The last two groups were about the same size. One group was the denialists; the ones who refused to believe that it would happen again and were willing to put their money where their mouths were. The others were the hopefuls, those who wanted to become Titans and didn't have another reason to want it.

The hopefuls were the ones I had the hardest time wrapping my head around. I could somewhat understand why they might want to go through that. But giving up their humanity so easily for no real pressing reason, was something I just couldn't grok.

Monday passed by uneventfully on the Changed front. It was the first full day of the Titan lockdown, even though no one really expected anything to happen that day.

Tuesday was the first anticipated day. It was the day of the actual equinox, and the one everyone bet would be the trigger. All across the office, I could tell it was going to be a rough day to get any work done. Every hour, there was a quick glance at the news, to see if another Change Event had happened.

By 9:30, work was grinding to a halt. I didn't say a word, but just about every screen in the office had a tab open to a streamer down in Colorado. Most at least kept the tabs to the side so they at least pretended to still be working.

Rob swung by my office at ten to ten. He didn't even pretend to have official business.

"Hey Simon, how you doing?" he asked, nudging the door closed behind him.

"Doing fine," I responded cautiously, wondering what he needed.

"Big day today. You think anything is going to happen?" he asked, clearing up any confusion about why he was there.

I relaxed, and stretched my wings out a bit. "Hard to say. I hope nothing happens. But part of me hopes something will. The unknowing is the worst part I guess."

"True. If it repeats, then we have a better chance to learn what the hell is going on, right?"

"Exactly. There's gotta be some mechanism behind all this. It can't be magic."

He came around behind my desk and glanced at my screen. "So who are you watching?"

I resisted the urge to hide the windows, feeling a bit guilty, even though I knew every screen in the office likely had at least one stream running, and I was senior enough to do this if I wanted to. I expanded the two streams I was following to fill both of my screens. I'd picked the two basically at random from the dozens of streams I could find.

On the left showed a large open living room, obviously designed for the centaurs. The ceilings were taller, the windows placed higher than normal, and instead of a couch there was a rectangular pad suitable for kneeling on. The camera was following a man who was pacing nervously in front of the extra large patio doors, wearing just a pair of shorts. He looked to be in his forties or early fifties, in good shape. He was obviously someone who did a lot of physical work outside; he still had a tan despite it being the end of winter.

The other screen showed a woman in an apartment that obviously predated the Titans. Some of the walls had been knocked down to make more room for the larger occupants, but otherwise everything seemed human scale. The woman paced in front of a static camera, wearing a bathrobe she had tightly closed around herself. She was in her thirties, and seemed to be in good health.

"Clyde is a general contractor, from Titans Step," I explained. "He was in Pueblo last year, caught in the blizzard, and missed the Change then. His wife and the rest of his family didn't. He's been helping rebuild the town ever since, and hopes to join his wife if it happens again. She's running the camera."

I pointed to the other screen, "Sarah is a hopeful," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. I had no idea why people would want to be transformed like the Titans and Griffons had gone through, but there were quite a few apparently. I half suspected Sarah was a furry, but I didn't look deeper into her background to verify.. "She moved to Titans Step last fall after the Griffons, picking up one of the unmodified apartments as you can see. I think she's alone."

As we watched, it was obvious both were talking but I had the sound turned off. Clyde seemed to be talking to his wife, obviously nervous about what might happen. Occasionally a third person, a Titan would appear, another relative there for support. Sarah was alone in her apartment, walking back and forth on the couch-pad. She was reading from a screen setup beside the camera and interacting with the people chatting.

"Clyde's certainly in the right business," I said to pass the time a bit. "I think I read somewhere that 80% of the Titans still don't have appropriate housing. They're still squished into human scale accommodations. Sure they've made some modifications, like you can see in Sarah's apartment. But most have ceilings that are too low, or corners and doorways that are too tight or narrow. They're ten foot giants in an eight foot ceiling world."

"Ouch, my head hurts just imagining that," Rob said. "Looks like Clyde's in a new place. Seems much roomier than even this office."

"Probably built it himself, since he has the connections, and a Titan wife," I noted. "I think it's almost time."

My computer showed 9:59. Both the Titan and the Griffon events had happened exactly at 10, so everyone figured if it was going to happen again, it would be then. If nothing happened, we'd close the streams and try to salvage the rest of the day.

On the screens, both humans looked nervous. They'd stopped pacing and were holding out their hands. The Titan change had started with the fingers, so that was what everyone was anticipating. Clyde's camera wiggled a bit and a new Titan came into view, towering over him. She briefly hugged him and said some words before returning behind the camera.

Sarah was the first to notice something. She was facing the camera with her hands up, palms towards the camera. She froze in that position long enough for me to wonder if the stream had hiccuped. And then I noticed the tips of her fingers. They were turning pink; not flesh tones but a light pink reminiscent of the Strawberry Shortcake dolls. On the side of her screen, her chat exploded, but she was speechless.

In the other window, Clyde was noticing a similar change. His fingertips were turning blue, a deep royal blue. The camera jiggled a bit as his wife set it down again and trotted back out to hug him. She seemed happy while Clyde was shocked. It was a feeling I remembered well.

"Fuck," I said after a long moment of silence. While my office door was closed, I could sense the office mood had shifted, going almost unnaturally quiet. We'd been expecting something like this to happen, but to see it actually starting again was different somehow.

"Fuck indeed," Rob said. He shook his head, looking away from my screens. Both of their hands were now strangely coloured and it was starting up their forearms. "So what does this mean?"

I shrugged my wings and sighed. "No clue. Nothing likely. We aren't in a change zone. It does mean the Griffon lands will be closed down for a few days in September I guess. At least we know now. We don't know how or what is causing this, but we know when it happens now. That's a plus right?"

Rob nodded and glanced back at the screen. "Gonna be a long day for them, isn't it?"

"It is. I didn't finish until around six. Titans took about the same time. I'm not sure if knowing what's coming makes it easier or not. Guess we'll know now."

I shrunk the windows down, even as the computer dinged, heralding the arrival of some new emails. Michelle and some of the other local leaders were probably wanting to talk about this. I ignored them for now; we had six months before we'd be affected again after all.

Instead, I stood up and motioned to the door. "No point in wasting the entire day. Let's go try and get the troops refocused."

It didn't take long to get most people back on task. While the change was fascinating for many people, actually watching it was less interesting; everything just happened so slowly that interest tended to drop off. I ignored the hushed conversations pointing out when various milestones were reached; pouches growing, faces changing, feet changing to hooves, fore-hooves growing out, sexes developing and so forth. I'd been through something similar to it myself and I wasn't all that interested in seeing it again.

Shortly after lunch, I did tune in for an update. The main Titan research camp was set up in a town called Byron's Gulch, located south of Titan's Step, just outside the Change region. It was covered in old snow that was melting fast with the sunny day they were experiencing; quite the difference from the blizzard that brought in the Titans last year.

The spokesperson kept things simple. He confirmed that the Change had happened again, encompassing the same region as before. With volunteers they had established the edge of the change and its centre point; a spot just outside the downtown of Titan's Step. The region was exactly 100 kilometers in radius, and had no apparent ceiling they could determine; Westjet 649 had partially confirmed that last fall.

Now that they knew where it was centred on, and that it repeated, they felt confident they could learn more about the change. They were already planning a number of experiments for next fall and next year to learn all they could about it. I wished them well, but doubted much would come from it. As far as I could tell, this was beyond our understanding.

By the end of the day, things were almost back to normal. The Change was almost done, and most of the streamers had ended to take care of their new bodies. I just had one final task to do, a gathering of griffons.

We were slowly changing our initial griffon groups over to a social club and a support group with branches in the towns and cities with significant griffon populations. I mostly left the details with Michelle and the other organizers as I tried to fade back into the background. Still, Michelle trusted my advice, so when the leaders wanted to talk about the latest events, she automatically invited me to the meeting.

I stayed later in my office and joined the zoom call around 5:30. There were a couple dozen connections in the meeting; maybe about thirty people in total when you counted people who were sharing connections. Calgary and Medicine Hat were represented the most in the group, followed closely by the Edmonton and Lethbridge groups. Red Deer had a couple showing up, and most of the rest were made up of people from the griffon towns like Elk Creek and Etzikom. The meeting organizer kept everyone muted to start, while the text chat was flying, talking about what had happened and what it might mean for us.

Finally Susan, the leader of the Calgary flock and of our meeting, asked for people to settle down.

"Good evening everyone, and thank you for coming on such short notice. I don't intend to keep you long," she greeted everyone once things had settled down somewhat. "As I'm sure we've all heard, the Change is recurring. I'm not sure if it is good news or bad news, but it is news."

She paused for a moment to check her notes. Many people were using their cameras, so I could see feathered heads nodding in agreement.

"This puts us on a six month clock. We figure the Griffon Change event will trigger again on the fall equinox, on Sunday, September 22, and we have a lot to do. This will be the first Event that people will know when and where it will occur. So we can anticipate there will be a lot of interest in it. We're going to need to figure out how we, as a griffon society, are going to handle it. There is also going to be a lot of curiosity about us, more than we've already experienced as people consider their options. And I'm sure the governments will be contacting us for suggestions and help in handling it.

At the moment, everything is up in the air. But I can confirm my own mailbox has already blown up, as I'm sure many of yours have. I don't want to decide anything today, I just want to make sure we're aware of what's coming. In the weeks and months to come we'll get better organized and ready.

"So that said, I'll open the floor for comments. If anyone has anything they wish to say, feel free to bring it up. Plant the seeds now and we'll see what grows."

I let everyone else talk and refocused on my own work. As far as I was concerned, what was coming didn't affect me in any way, other than maybe making scheduling a bit trickier. I would help Michelle and the rest of the flock however they wanted to use me, and I would let them decide on the "official" griffon response, whatever that would be.

It turned out I was in a bit of a minority for letting things be. A lot of griffons had opinions and ideas they wanted to put out now. Everyone had a lot of questions but no real answers. Some were wondering how many new griffons we'd get in September. Others were suggesting the government should lock down access to limit the number of griffons. I could only shake my head and let them talk.

Susan finally decided we'd been in the weeds long enough. She caught our attention and had to mute a few persistent talkers before she could get a word in again.

"Right, clearly we have a lot to figure out. Six months isn't a lot of time, but it is time. We have a lot of questions and no one here can really answer them. We'll give it a few days and get a sense for how the winds are blowing, and reconvene next week. Thank you for your time everyone."

The meeting emptied out quickly. I disconnected, and immediately a new call came in from Michelle. I answered it, biting down a moment of irritation.

"Hey Sky. Thanks for joining the meeting. I know you don't tend to like that sort of meeting," she said.

"I don't, but I don't mind either," I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Right, I won't keep you too long; I'm sure you want to get home. I just wanted to get your initial thoughts on this."

"My thoughts? I don't think I've fully formed them yet, to be honest," I said.

"Yeah, I guess we suspected this might be possible, but to confirm it," she shook her head and shrugged. "Still, anything at all?"

I shrugged as well. "Not much, other than it probably isn't really a problem for us. They confirmed that Titans and Griffons didn't change further, so we're locked in. It's a problem more for humans. So we should be ready to advise them as best we can, and to welcome whoever changes in September, and beyond that, I don't know."

She nodded, "Right, and we're in Edmonton, so we're a bit far away. We are close to the Legislature though, so we'll probably get a bit of pressure in that direction. Okay, thanks for your thoughts, Sky. I appreciate them, and I'm sure we'll talk it over more. Have a good evening."

"You too. Bye Michelle."

The screen blanked out and I quickly closed the lid of my laptop before anyone else could call. I let out a long sigh and packed up slowly. I knew things had changed for all of us yet again today. How they had changed remained to be seen. Still, it was mainly somebody else's problem.

I grabbed the last bit of gear and killed the lights in my office. Despite the extra meetings, there was still a bit of natural sunlight coming in through the windows. I locked my office door and glanced around, hearing a few people still working. I headed out and caught the elevator down, getting ready for my flight home and a hopefully relaxing evening.

Template:Separatorseparator

Preceded by: A Fire in the Sky: Book 3

Paradigm Shift: Griffons{{#if:| (First: {{{first}}})}}

Succeeded by: A Fire in the Sky: Book 5