Hey there everyone! Wanted to put up a quick journal assuring you all that RHIEU is still alive and kicking. To that end, we would like to post a section of the upcoming chapter to a journal here as sort of a teaser for things to come. Thank you for your interest in our work and we hope you enjoy!

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For a moment Hurn went quiet, his eyes closing before his beak turned, still trying to scent their surroundings. A deep breath and a glance at the moonless sky, he nodded. “Cmon, lets go.” Stepping out from the trees he moved quickly, stepping to the side of the field and trying to keep to the grass as much as possible. Red, all but understanding the reasoning despite being unspoken, he fell into step as the two large forms made their way across the boundary of the field. While Red recognized the crop of potatoes, Hurn’s eyes and ears swiveled this way and that as he tried to ensure the two of them were not spotted. In the distance a dog barked, forcing the lead gryphon to pause, ears twitching and rotating, before moving on. Behind him, Red glanced in the direction of the disturbance, looking into the distance as his gaze focused onto the shape of a chicken wire kennel attached to the house sizable farm. He still found himself amazed at the acuity of his new senses.
Before long the two of them had reached the edge of the field and crossed the dirt road that led to the farm itself. As Hurn gently snuffled at the ground, catching the scents of the beasts that had come this way, Red kept looking this way and that, finding small details to marvel at in the distance of both the farm fields behind them as well as the thick vegetation to their front. As they moved back into the thick of the wood, Hurn’s sigh drew Red’s attention and he finally broke the silence.
“The cluster is very… particular on breeding patterns.” Hurn’s sudden seriousness, what he said specifically, made Red scoff audibly.
“Breeding patterns? What the herrrrarrllll…”, Red paused as his voice caught over the word Hell before shaking his head. “What does that mean?”
Hurn just glanced over his shoulder at his companion as they left the farm behind, giving him a raised eye and a gentle ruffle of his wings. “Males are expected to mate at appointed times.” Hurn replied, huffing as the pair of them vaulted over a large fallen tree, their talons crunching on the dried undergrowth. It took Hurn a moment to consider just what Red asked, his fur and feathers puffing up as an ounce of frustration rolled over him. “I can’t explain it all here.” He stated, huffing gently as Red shrugged beside him. “Let’s just say that if the alpha mates found out that we…” he paused, “they would not be happy with me.”
Pausing to adjust his backpack under his wing, Red turned his head to all but tuck it under his wing to push the pack into a more secure position. “Well… ok.” He conceded. Red’s mind was grasping at straws; he was being forced to assume so much. Alpha mates? Appointed times? Groaning he looked back toward Hurn as he trotted to catch up. “Are you not due to mate? Did we… did we mate without an appointment?” Snickering at his own question, Red was soon in step with his guide.
Hurn could only shake his head, sighing deeply as he seemed to stop, hesitate for a few long moments, and turned to the right, their course shifting up-hill. “I can’t expect you to understand right away, Red…” He said, shaking his head. Hurn’s beak turned to look at Red again, eyes looking into his imploringly. “I am a græn. Father…” he paused.
This time Red overtook Hurn and had to stop, his head swiveling to look over his shoulder. He didn’t recognize the term but the way that it was used… “What is that?”
Hurn could only shake his head and step forward again, leading the pair of them deeper into the hills. “Let’s just say that gryphi like myself are not… expected to mate with others of the same gender.”