The griffin didn't attack first. It stood to its feet, keeping its unblinking eyes steered at me. Behind these bird's eyes, a predator's intelligence calculated possibilities. Was I a threat, or a new, unfamiliar prey? Unknown was always a risk, and when losing a bet meant losing your life, the best strategy was to avoid risks whatsoever.
Didn't work for me, though. There was no advancement for Devourer without risks, without taking on stronger opponents and consuming their strength.
With some conclusion achieved in its monster brain, the griffin spread its wings. They were wide and broad, a dazzling display of blue feathers fluttering on the harsh mountain wind. They appeared to be huge compared to the griffin's body, almost tripling its perceived size.
Then the creature let out a loud screech that reverberated through the mountains and echoed off their stone slopes. A threatening and powerful call to get the fuck off its hunting grounds.
