The silence was broken in the Gryphon Kingdom by the slightest of rustling, a group of five Gryphons noiselessly creeping still unseen along the tree-dappled, bushy rim of the bowl-shaped valley that poured into the flatlands of the village. Their tails swayed and their eyes flashed with interest as they watched for an unsuspecting chick, or a Gryphon they could snag up together and bring to their home for slavery preparation.
A rock tumbled down the side of the Mountainous edge as one of their feet accidentally shifted it from it's crevice, and it tumbled down before it hit Bedros in the head, who was standing in the hunting grounds of the forest not too far from the river. "Ow," he said with a light wince as he rubbed his head, "Where'd that come from?" he pondered aloud.