I stored the dead man in the mana bag.
The procession started to move, and when I looked back the griffin was looking this way. This way, or me, I could not tell. From there, if it spat that hellfire we would all become fire-dummies. There might not even be a trace. But I felt the griffin had no such will. I do not know if the voice that rang in my head was the griffin's. But I believe it was. We advanced along the winding road. When the cliff hid the griffin and I could no longer see it, I finally let out a breath. Not only I. The whole procession.
Everyone looked back, confirmed there was no griffin behind, and raised a cheer. Everyone said the same things.
"We were saved!"
"We are alive!"
"I thought we would die!"
And,
"I never thought that monster would understand human words."
"A monster, and clever."
"That one was an idiot."
There are people who whip the dead.
"He died in our place. I thought the same thing."
