I was the youngest of three. We lived in a small village at the end of the main road through the country, with a wood behind. No road entered the forest and no person ever went in far enough to lose sight of the last house in the village.

My brothers were only two years apart from each other; I was seven years younger than ­­­­­­­­­­Elias, the middle child. Due to the large age difference, Mother kept me with her in the garden and the house, while my brothers worked in Father’s carpentry shop with him. My earliest memories are of digging happily in a corner of the garden. When I was five, I was given my own little plot, with which no one would interfere. I made some mistakes in it early on, of course, but I learned better as I got older. By the time Mother died when I was ten, it was simply accepted that I would take care of the garden. After her death, I also began to do most of the household tasks. Many thought it was improper, but we had no females in the house, and Father was disinclined to marry again. There was no one to hire, not in a village so small, at least not for everyday things. So, I did the housework and took care of the garden.

Every two or three years, Father would journey to the city to purchase special, expensive lumber, mainly decoration on pieces made of more utilitarian types of wood. Most of the wood he, like all the villagers, used came from stands of trees that were carefully cultivated and kept away from the forest. There was a large cleared boundary between the trees for harvesting and the forest behind the village. Father’s trip would be easy, for the road was well-marked and straight. It was long, but no traveler had ever mentioned problems finding their way.

The year I was fifteen, Father planned another trip to the city. As always, he asked us what gifts we would like. My brothers both asked for trinkets to please their sweethearts.

“And you, Bo?” Father asked. “What would you like?”

“Some seeds?” I asked. “New ones, that no one else here has.”

Father laughed, but gently. “You and your seeds,” he said indulgently. “I’ll look for something new.” I shrugged, as if embarrassed, but I was not–not really. I was used to good-natured ribbing about all the tasks I did, including the garden.

Father left, and we thought no more about it. It was late spring when he left; he was expected back by early fall. We started to worry in mid-fall, when Father hadn’t returned. Finally, in late fall, he arrived. He surprised us, coming from behind the town, from the wood.

I saw him first, since I was, as usual, puttering around in the garden. I ran to meet him, grabbing his horse’s halter. “Father!” I cried.

My cry brought my brothers running. My eldest brother, Dorian, helped Father dismount. After Father dismounted, I lead the horse into the stable. Elias came with me, leading the packhorse. Dorian helped Father into the house.

While I unsaddled and groomed the riding beast, Elias removed the packs from the other horse. “These are heavy,” he complained.

“Wood is heavy,” I replied.

“Not like this, Bo,” Elias answered. “I handle it more than you, I know what it weighs.”

“You don’t handle it in bulk, though. Only a bit at a time.”

I glanced over as he rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. You come feel these and tell me if you think there’s just wood in them.”

“Why don’t you just open them?” I asked.

“But…but that’s just not something you do. They aren’t mine.” A pause and then, “I thought you had better manners than that, Bo.”

“I wasn’t going to open them!” I retorted, stung. “You’re the one who’s so curious about what’s in them!”

The horse whickered. “Calm down,” Elias ordered me. Since he was unable to see me, I rolled my eyes and then finished my task.

When I entered the house, everyone was clustered around the kitchen table. The packs lay nearby, with one open on the table. Elias had been right; the pack did not contain wood. Instead, metal coins and precious gems spilled out onto the table. I stared. We had always been well off, but not wealthy. Never had I seen that much wealth in one place.

“Where-?” I got out

“Sit down, Bo,” Father ordered. “I was waiting for you before I started.”

There was silence for a moment, while Father searched for words to begin. “Well,” he said finally, “I made it to the city without trouble and concluded my business there, even if it did take slightly longer then usual. I then began to return.

“You know there have always been rumors about an enchantment in the forest near here, and that the road is supposedly spelled to be safe.”

“Magic!” Dorian snorted. “Don’t tell me you believe in such superstitious nonsense.”

“Listen first, before you judge.” Dorian shrugged with ill grace. Father continued, “At first the trip back was just as easy as the trip there. Then, when I was maybe two days from home by the road, the camping place had been fouled. I left the road to search for a place to stay. I found a place without much trouble, and stayed there for the night. Nothing troubled me. But, the next morning, I could not find my way back to the road. I wondered in the wood for days, I don’t know how many. Finally, I came to a mansion, with high surrounding walls.

“The first thing I noticed was that the gates, oddly, were of bronze, not of iron. They swung open, so I entered. I assumed it was a place of safety, and the exhaustion of the past days caught up with me. I let my horse pick the way. She went to a small stable. I must have dismounted, but I don’t remember very clearly what happened. I found myself in a small parlor. There was food on a table in front of me, so I ate it. Then, I lay down on a couch and slept. I don’t know for how long.

“When I woke, there was more food. After eating, I went in search of the horses. Both had been unsaddled and groomed, and seemed quite content. By the light, it seemed quite late, so I decided, if my host would permit it, that I would stay one more night and leave in the morning. As I retuned to the building, I noticed the gardens. They were magnificent. And, since I had found no seed for you, Bo, I decided to take a cutting in the morning before I left to bring to you.”

“Did you?” I asked eagerly. I had seen no sign of a living plant.

“I’ll get there. Patience.” I sat back, and Father continued. “I went back to the house, where another meal was waiting for me. I awoke much earlier the next day and prepared to set out. I saddled the horses. All their tack had been replaced, but the new stuff was of better quality, although there was no iron in it. After that, I led them into the yard, and left them there while I went to get a flower for Bo. I cut one flower.

“The instant my knife touched the flower, there was a keening, as though an animal had been wounded, and then the stem parted, and the flower dropped free. It was as if the plant was trying to escape the touch of my knife. I thought no more about it then, though, because I saw a beast. It stood in front of my horse, blocking her from leaving.

“‘I have fed and sheltered you!’ it roared. ‘Is this how you repay me? With thievery?’

“I replied that I had been hoping to bring home a new plant to my youngest son, who loved gardening and wanted a flower that no one else had. The beast stared at me for a long time. Finally it said, ‘Have your youngest son come to me within a month. If he does not, I will find you and kill you. Warn him to bring no iron. He must merely go into the wood, out of sight of houses.’

“Then, the beast left and I was able to depart. I quickly found my way back to the wood, and after one more night, could see the village.”

There was silence for a moment. I was the one who broke it. “Where is the flower?” I asked. My brothers both glared at me.

Father withdrew a flower from where it had been carrying it and handed it to me. I had never seen a flower like it. The flower was a deep, pure crimson. Every petal was perfect, or so it seemed, even knowing nothing about the flower. Father had cut the flower at the perfect moment between opening and withering. Even my brothers were awed. “Do you know its name?” I asked reverently.

“No,” Father replied simply. He was watching the flower too.

“When did you cut this?”

“Yesterday morning,” he answered. I looked from Father to the flower in disbelief. Then, rising, I filled a cup with water and placed the flower in it.

“A month?” I asked Father.

“Bo, no, you don’t need to do this,” he protested, ignoring my question.

“The beast obviously loves gardens. It will not be so bad.”

My family did not want me to go, but I remained firm. I could not let Father lose his life because I refused to go. It had been my desire for plants that had created the problem in the beginning; therefore I felt that it should be I who paid the price. It would also be an adventure. I was content with my garden and home, but the instant Father told his tale, a desire to go, to leave my commonplace life, seized me. There was never any doubt in my mind that I would go to the beast’s home.

Three weeks later, I left home. No one accompanied me. I had planted the flower in a pot and left instructions for its care. For the first time in my life, I rode into the forest, out of sight of the village.

I found the estate well before dusk, although I had not set out until mid-morning.

I left my horse in the stable, unsaddled and groomed. I followed a path to the house, but once inside the door I hesitated. Lighted candles illuminated one corridor, but not the others, so I followed the candles. They stopped at a door, which opened as I approached it. Taking the open door as an invitation, I entered. Inside was a luxuriously appointed sitting room. At the far end of the room was another door, which opened onto a bedroom as luxuriously furnished as the sitting room. A fire was burning in the fireplace and on the hearth a large tub steamed. Nearby, a stand held dark towels. Resting on top of the towels was a square of white, a note.

Dear Guest,

Please make yourself comfortable. These rooms are for you during your stay. I would be obliged if you would join me for diner tonight. When you are ready, simply leave your rooms and follow the lighted candles. If you chose not to join me, simply speak aloud in the air that you chose not to join me. If you have other requests, make them that way as well.

The note was unsigned. Still, there could be little doubt as to the author. I saw no reason not to join my host for dinner, so after bathing I left the rooms, following the candles. They led me to a large doorway, the last two candles on either side. The room inside was dim, so I was unable to see far into the room. I stepped nervously inside.

I figure rose as I entered. “I apologize for the dim lighting. I thought you would prefer it.” The voice was a melodious alto. It made me think that this fearsome beast might be female. The instant I saw her, I knew for sure that she was female.

In the dim lighting, it was hard to see clearly her color, but it was a pale color that stood out, even in the dimness. She had a bird shaped body, but with long legs that allowed her to be face to face with me. Wings lay along her back, although she had forearms as well. There was a beak, but it was flexible, accounting for her clear speech.

“Won’t you please sit down?” she asked me.

“Thank you, my lady,” I replied, moving to the place she indicated.

“Oh, no, not my lady,” she said. “Simply…Griffin will do.”

“Is that what–” I clamped my mouth shut before I finished the sentence.

Griffin answered me anyway. “Yes, I am a griffin.”

We were served by invisible servants. The food was good, but entirely vegetarian. There was no meat. Griffin was well educated and intelligent and therefore made me feel inadequate. I could read, write, and do basic figuring, but nothing complex. She obviously knew much more than that. Before I left for the night, she promised to show me the gardens in the morning.

The next morning, Griffin showed me the gardens. They were every bit as wonderful as Father had described. Days fell into a pattern. I puttered around in the garden in the morning, used Griffin’s library in the afternoon to try to equal her, and ate dinner with her in the evening. Never once did I see iron, meat, or another animal besides Griffin and myself.

I had been there for close to a year when I asked Griffin if I could see my family. I had by now figured out that there was magic in the castle; it was hard not to, really. The whole place reeked of enchantment. I guessed that she had something that would allow me to see my family.

Griffin looked hurt, as much as a creature with as little facial expression as she had could. “You dislike it that much here?” she asked.

“No,” I hastened to assure her. “I like it here very much. But I miss my family.”

She shrugged. “Very well. Come with me.” She led me to a room I had never seen. I assumed if candles did not light up for me, I was not intended to go down that corridor. Once in the room, she withdrew a cloth from a large, freestanding mirror. It was the first one I had seen in Griffin’s home. “Look into the mirror,” she ordered me. “Think hard of your family.”

I looked at her once, uncertainly, before looking in the mirror. I could hear as well as see, and I saw my father and Dorian talking to someone about a wedding, Dorian’s wedding. It would take place in a week.

I turned to look at Griffin. By her face, I could tell she knew what I wanted to ask. She looked at me for a long moment. “Yes, you can go. But…be back with in two weeks.”

“Two weeks!” I exclaimed.

“If you are not back by then, Bo, I will die.” She said it simply, just a statement of fact.

“I will be back by then,” I pledged.

“Go in peace.”

I hurried home, excited. My family was happy to see me, especially since I had arrived just in time for Dorian’s wedding. I did not elaborate on how I knew he was getting married, and no one asked. They were appalled when I told them I could only stay for two weeks.

I had fun at Dorian’s wedding and the week after was nice as well. It was nice to see my family again. I had missed them. On the thirteenth day of my stay, I announced that I needed to return tomorrow.

“Surely you can wait until the day after. That will be the full two weeks,” Father protested.

I hesitated, seeing Griffin in my mind as she told me she would die were I not back in two weeks. Observing my hesitation, Elias said, “You’ll only be gone two weeks, Bo. You’ll be back at the end of two weeks.” I allowed myself to be persuaded.

The next morning I set out early because I was unable to rid myself of a lingering uneasiness. Before, I had found Griffin’s home easily. This time, it took me several hours to find it. By the time I arrived, the sun was setting. I had to force the gates open. I knew something was wrong.

In a rush to find Griffin, I merely removed my horse’s saddle and threw a blanket over her before leaving the horse in the stable. Instinct led me to the room where I had looked in the mirror, although no candles lit for me.

The cloth over the mirror was pulled back and Griffin lay on the floor near it. “Bo?” she asked weakly, as I entered.

“Yes,” I replied. “Oh, Griffin, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed…I…” I dropped to my knees next to her. “Please, don’t die. I’ll never leave again. I… I…I love you, Griffin!” The words came out explosively; I had no clue from where. I also knew them to be the truth.

She looked up at me. “Thank you, Bo.” She said it faintly and smiled. Then she shut her eyes.

“No, Griffin!” I cried. “You can’t die on me! I love you! I want to marry you! No!” I buried my face in my hands and began to sob.

Suddenly, I heard music, sweet and yet soaring. I looked up, puzzled. The ceiling was covered in light, slowly descending. I watched, transfixed, as it sank down until it covered Griffin. I had to look away, it was so bright. When finally I could look again, a young woman was lying there.

“Where’s Griffin?” I asked.

“I am Griffin,” she said. Her voice was the same melodious alto. Looking at her, I could see that her hair was the same tawny-gold that beast-Griffin’s feathers had been.

I helped her sit up, and carried her over to the bed in a corner. She protested the whole time, but was unable to resist. When I got her comfortably settled, I asked, “What happened?”

She shrugged, looking sheepish. “I made someone powerful mad. He put a curse on me. It couldn’t be broken until someone who knew nothing of the spell spontaneously declared his love for me. As you did.”

“Oh,” I said, speechless. “Is that why you demanded me?”

“From your father?” I nodded. “Yes, I was hoping that having someone here would allow the curse to be broken. It worked.”

“Yes, it did,” I said. I studied her for a moment, then I leaned forward and, cupping her chin in my hands, kissed her.

When I drew away, I realized something else. “What should I call you? Griffin no longer seems appropriate.”

She laughed. “I like it better then my original name, so you can keep using it.”

She leaned forward and kissed me. I kissed her back.