Griffon upended Armand's pack onto his sleeping-roll. Bits of biscuit and a couple loose coins tumbled out onto the blankets, but no clue as to where his brother might have gone. He wiped them away and tossed aside a pile of clothes. A flask tumbled out of the pocket as he checked it over for even so much as a note. Griffon couldn't even bring himself to be aggravated.

He shoved his hands through his hair and peered outside. Rannok. Rannok had to know where he'd gone. He got up and walked outside. If he didn't find Armand soon who knew what would happen. He didn't have his cloak or any food or water. He'd end up just like Caleb and all the other kids.

But no. Caleb was different. It couldn't be the same this time. He had to be okay. Griffon couldn't stop picturing Armand's dessicated body, lying abandoned in the sand, unprotected as jackals ripped at his limbs and consumed them. He could hear them as they squabbled with one another for chunks of his brother.

Griffon's eyes flew around like those of a wild man until they latched onto the tent Rannok shared with Gabriel. He half-walked, half-jogged over and stuck his head in without announcing himself.

Gabriel turned away from picking loose feathers out of his wings with his fingers and gave Griffon a quizzical look. Griffon ran his hand through his hair again and started to pace. This wasn't happening. All the times before he'd known what to do. Gabriel sighed heavily and folded his wings up again.

"He'll come back if he wants to, Griffon. You can't keep doing this."

Griffon shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "No, I have to go look for him. I can't--"

"--Armand's a swordsman and a damn good one at that. He'll be fine."

"What if he wandered off in the wrong direction?" Griffon said, voice frazzled. It was at least two hundred miles to the nearest city. It would still take the caravan three weeks to get there if they made double time. Even if he traveled at three times the speed, he wouldn't make it three days without water.

"Look, he's probably on the other end of the caravan. You're freaking me out. If you want to go look for him go talk to Aegan, I can't help you and if you keep doing that I think I might go crazy."

Griffon's eyes widened. How had he not considered the other end of the caravan? Of course that was where Armand would run off to. There was food there and shelter, if he knew where and how to look, which Griffon doubted. Without even thanking Gabriel he exited the tent and began walking purposely toward the back of the food tent where he knew he'd find Aegan. 

He ducked inside and Aegan looked up from the coins he was counting and fixed Griffon with an icy grey stare. "Yes?" 

"You need to let me out of watch so I can look for Armand," Griffon begged. "I know where he is. I know I can find him if I just--"

"If you just what?" Aegan asked. He eyed a coin held between his long fingers and placed it back down on the table. Griffon tried his best to stop pacing and look like he wasn't about to combust internally. Aegan's eyes met his and froze over like water in the night air. 

"What do you plan to do when you find him? He can't come back here. How many chances do you want me to give him? First he breaks a new recruit's ribs, then he steals things from me, and now he breaks that same recruit's nose. Rannok will be out for another week while he recovers. How am I supposed to continue to believe you when every single time you tell me you have things under control, you don't?"

Griffon shook his head. The wings on his back folded, then unfolded as he resumed pacing the room. He could keep Armand under control, he knew it. It wouldn't be like before. Armand would listen. He'd make him do guard duty, not let him out of his sight for even an instant. "Please. I promise I'll keep him under control. You can't let him die. I won't let you. I'll--"

"Stop that pacing!" Aegan shouted as his wings splayed out and he pounded his fist down on the table so hard it rattled. Griffon jumped. "You won't go anywhere, Griffon, do you hear me? I will not have your brother causing us more problems and I will not have you falling apart at the seams because I told you no. Do you understand? Get yourself together!"

Griffon stopped pacing but his heart didn't stop racing. He glanced to the door. Maybe he could just go for a little bit. Fly over the end of the caravan and see if he could spot him. Maybe then he could talk some sense into Armand. If he just--

"If I catch you anywhere outside the merchant area there will be trouble," Aegan said, as if he were reading Griffon's every thought. Griffon shrunk inwardly and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. The tent flap hit him in the wing on the way out, but he couldn't get his mind off Armand long enough to care.

By the time he'd started walking the flask was already out of his pocket. His hands shook as he fumbled the lid in his hand. He tore it off with his teeth and took a swig. The familiar burn numbed the pain in his chest. Took away just enough of the feeling that if he tried, he might be able to take his mind. He cradled the flask in his hand as he put it back into the folds of his cloak. 

He remembered the first day he'd opened his eyes in the caravan. His chest was open with red, weeping wounds. They stung like wildfire every time he so much as moved a muscle, and every twelve hours or so a medic came to scrub them with a pad that felt more like steel wool than cloth. Every once in a while someone would tip a foul-tasting liquid into his mouth. It never did do anything to stop the agony.

But there was a light in all the darkness. He remembered his eyes. So warm and full of light in the days before Armand decided that things like hunting rats in the medic tent and listening to stories Griffon made up on the fly weren't cool anymore. He'd spent hours laying there listening to Armand complain about how weird Aegan talked and how gross the food was and how none of the other kids would play with him. Praising him every time he brought back a rat he'd managed to catch and behead with the little steel dagger one of the guardsmen had given him.

He tried not to show how much pain he was in or how afraid he was that he'd die and leave Armand alone. How he felt it pull at him every day as he slipped farther and farther away until Armand's voice was just another whisper on the wind, tugging him back in the other direction until somehow he rallied.

And after Griffon got better, which seemed like it took the better part of a lifetime, he taught Armand to fight. To stand up to the kids that picked on him because he walked funny and didn't know how to play catch-card. 

And it was Griffon that did everything a child needed. Changed him. Fed him. Made him do chores. Made sure his clothes were clean and patched and that he had shoes to wear that weren't full of holes. Taught him how to read, when he got older. Took him to the medic tent when he burned with a fever so high Griffon was sure it would kill him. All while carefully crafting it so Armand never realized it was Aegan that should have been doing those things, not him.

Maybe if he had just done something different. Made him listen more. Didn't leave him alone in the medic tent for hours with only the medics for company while Griffon scouted so they could have food. 

Maybe if he'd just given him up, like everyone said was the right thing to do.

He sat at the back of a stack of boxes and stared out into the horizon. His heart dropped into his stomach and imploded, leaving a hole so large and cavernous it hurt to even breathe. He stayed there for a long time. Fire consumed his chest, then his head, then the rest of him until the whole world was fire and he had nowhere else to run. There would never be anything to run for again until the day he died.

Inside his head he was shattering into tiny pieces and no one on the outside could do anything to stop it. He hugged his arm around his chest and fished a flask out of his bag. He let the familiar fire consume him as he tipped its entire contents back into his mouth. His head felt warm and heavy, and after a few moments the pain began to ebb away on a river of alcohol.

It wasn't even close to adequate for filling the emptiness that threatened to consume him, but for now, it would do.  

---

Griffon obviously cares a lot for his brother. Do you think he should go after Armand, or has he already done too much damage? Put your thoughts in the comments!