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They came for him in the dead of night, rousing him from vague, unsettling dreams where he was smothering or drowning.

The wooden door and plain, simple lock that protected his meagre belongings from the other serfs did nothing to hold them back. Cole awoke to the sounds of crashing and splintering, blinking into the darkness. He fumbled next to his bed for the lamp to see what was going on. Had his roof collapsed? Was someone trying to break in and rob him?

The lamp flickered as he turned the starter, the arc finally catching, the wick flaring, the lamp springing to life to bathe the room in a golden glow. He turned back and a moment later he felt a spreading warmth in the bed as his bladder emptied. Standing in the shadow of his bedroom door were the hulking shapes of two black-feathered gryphons, the light reflecting from their sharp, cold yellow eyes. Each of the four legged beasts was heavily armoured, sporting the sigil of the local lord on their dark iron breastplates. He knew who they were. Everyone did. You knew anytime you saw them on the streets, you wanted to walk the other way. The last thing you wanted to do was attract their attention and now here they were in his home.

Cole opened his mouth to say something, but the words dried up in his throat as the pair advanced on him. He crawled back up in the bed till he was plastered against the headboard, suddenly and painfully aware of the fact that he'd gone to sleep in nothing but his smallclothes. He had no weapons, save for a chamberpot, and somehow he suspected slinging last night's piss at the two enforcers would only make things worse.

"Wha-" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "What are you doing in here? Why did you break in?"

The two gryphons exchanged a look, then turned back to him. That's when he saw the black cloth bag one of them carried. His eyes widened in terror. No. Oh no. He'd heard the stories. They all had. People vanishing in the middle of the night, their bodies found days later, set on display as a warning for all to see. They'd had such terrible things done to them, but they always left the face intact. Always the face, so everyone could see who it was.

Fuck it. Last night's piss it was, then. Cole lunged out of bed, grabbing the chamberpot and hurling it at the pair. They reeled back, screeching and cursing filling the air as the noxious fluid splattered over them. He snatched up a pair of trousers as he fled, slamming into the doorframe that led to the tiny kitchen with a yelp of pain. He staggered, nearly falling, bare feet slapping on the plain wood floor as he bolted for the back door, throwing anything that came to hand behind him.

He shouldered the door open and burst out into the cold, dark street, his breath immediately smoking in the cold air. The wall was to his right. If he was quick and quiet, if he stuck to the back alleys, maybe he could make it to the wall and out of the town. Where would he go after that? How would he avoid freezing to death or getting eaten by wolves? He didn't know, but he did know that he couldn't risk staying or trying to hide here. Most of the other slaves would sell him out as fast as than they could yell for the guards.

Cole darted down the street, trying to ignore the angry voices behind him, the crashing as they came in pursuit. Left, down the alley. He paused just long enough to pull his trousers on, cursing his bare feet. They were already starting to ache in the cold, hurting where stones dug in. He set off again, keeping low, pausing in every shadow to check in front of him and behind. He could hear more voices now and then his heart sank as the alarm bell split the air with its frantic peeling, warning all the guards to be on the lookout for trouble.

He picked up the pace, breathing harsh and ragged, breath fogging in the cold air, his thin shirt and ragged trousers doing little to warm him. He pressed himself up against the side of a shack, ducking down low as a trio of guards ran past the entrance to the alley, their eyes focused, weapons drawn. He waited a moment more after they'd passed before he ducked low and ran. The street ahead wasn't too wide, he could be across it in just a-

He didn't get to finish the thought. Something slammed into him and sent him flying, measuring his length in the muddy street as he landed face first. He felt his nose break, his jaw slamming shut hard enough to send a tooth bouncing across the ground, the taste of blood filling his mouth. It took him a second or two to gather enough of his faculties from his rattled and traumatised skull to realise that he'd been a fool. He'd been so busy looking ahead and looking behind, he'd forgotten to look up.

He forced himself to roll over, first to his side, then his back. He moved to lever himself up only for a set of razor sharp talons to come down almost delicately on his chest, pinning him in place as certainly as if each of them weighed more then he did. He froze, barely daring to breathe, and slowly lifted his head. It wasn't one of the ones that had broken into his home. This gryphon didn't wear the armour or sigil of the lord, but the sharp yellow eyes that glared down at him, as if he was something unpleasant the beast had just stepped in, showed not even a hint of mercy.

"P-please..." Cole whispered, lifting his hands defensively as he started to slowly edge backwards. "I'll go. I'll just...I'll go. I won't be in your way."

The beast paused, its head tilting to one side like a parody of a quizzical dog. Those talons pressed down harder and he had no choice but to lay back flat on the muddy, rutted street else they would pierce his skin. Cole took short, sharp little breaths, frozen in place while the gryphon just...stared at him.

"Nuh-" He didn't get more than the first syllable out before that paw pushed down harder onto him, hard enough that he felt his ribs creak, the air rushing out of his lungs in a startled, pained wheeze as those claws dug into his skin, drawing bright red rivulets of blood that glistened in the moonlight. Fear and pain galvanised him and he kicked frantically up at the beast, hands wrapping around that foreleg, trying desperately to lift or push it away.

The response was immediate, and painful. The gryphon didn't even need to exert itself, all it had to do was lean forward and the pressure on his chest was multiplied. Cole's kicking grew ever more frantic as he was crushed under the weight of that merciless paw. Those talons pushed in harder, drawing a strangled, breathless scream as they sank deeper into his flesh. Even as he fought for air, fought to escape, part of his mind viewed all this as if it was happening to someone else. How did this all happen so quickly? Just minutes ago he'd been laying in his bed, sleeping, dreaming of maybe finding something substantial to eat in the morning. And now here he was, half-naked in the street, as helpless as a mouse in the grip of an hungry owl. The air was filled with the scent of mud and the coppery tang of his blood. His head and shoulders ached from arching against the ground, his back and chest aching as he tried to breathe. It was getting harder and harder to draw even the smallest breath as the gryphon crushed him. He could feel the strength draining from his limbs, hands finally falling to his sides, his feet laid on the ground.

His head was aching, breath rasping from his open mouth. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision as the gryphon leaned ever closer, its eyes intent as it watched him slowly suffocate. Its head suddenly snapped up and it chirped a challenge at something off to the left. Suddenly the pressure on his chest was gone and he rolled over, gasping, coughing, retching as he curled into a ball, a trembling hand pressed to his blood-soaked chest.

Two gryphons were approaching the first, but these two weren't just random overseers or citizens. These wore the livery of the lord, like the ones that had burst into his shack. Cole shuddered as a cold ribbon of fear coursed down his spine and slowly began to crawl along the ground, back towards the alley. He could hear the three of them talking in that strange, chirping, growling nonsense that seemed to pass for a language among them. If he could stay slow and quiet maybe they wouldn't see him.

The grasp of claws around his ankle was almost inevitable. Whatever gods might have once smiled on him and helped him make it this far, they'd turned their faces away from him this night. He twisted himself around to find that one of the guards had grabbed him and was now dragging him back to its compatriot. The two chirped and clicked at the one who had attacked him and it turned to leave, pausing only to give him another of those cold, incurious looks before it left without a word.

The guard released his ankle and snapped its beak at him, jerking its head up as it motioned him to stand. "Got to admit, human," it growled in a thickly accented voice, "using your pisspot as a weapon is a gutsy move. Didn't help you much, but we appreciate a little fire and spice in our prey."

Cole wasn't sure what to say to that. Should he say anything? Was this a trick? Were they going to punish him if he opened his mouth? Or punish him if he didn't say anything. His mouth worked, unsure what the best response was to avoid more pain. The two seemed to find this deeply funny, nudging each other and clicking their beaks in animalist laughter. Finally the first one addressed him again.

"Lord Torvid has requested your presence," it growled. "He has some questions that you had better be able to help him with, and your little escape attempt means you've kept him waiting. You'll answer for that. But not to her," and the guard nodded in the direction of his departed attacker. "Or to us. We value our hides too much. So, be a good little mouse and start walking before we have to make you walk. I'm sure you know the way."

Cole's feet were moving before his brain had even really processed what they were saying. His feet knew the way. Everyone knew the way. Their camp was built around the gryphon's castle, after all, serving as both cannon fodder and labour, slaves and human shields all. Everyone knew something else as well. You never wanted to be called to the castle. Gryphons came and went at all hours, day in, day out, but humans? Once you went in there, you never came back out. The rumour mill was awash with speculation. Were humans kept as slaves to serve Torvid directly? Did he fuck them? Devour them? The only thing people knew for sure was once you passed that gate, you'd never be heard from again.

He shuffled along, absently rubbing at his aching chest, the blood cold and sticky under his fingers. What could Torvid want? He couldn't possibly know about that extra half-ration of bread he'd stuffed in the back of his closet, could he? And why would the lord care about that? You catch a slave stealing, you send one of the overseers to take care of it. He tried to ignore the sick, twisting feeling in his gut as he walked.

It took them twenty minutes or so to reach the castle gate. He'd considered trying to make a run for it again, as every step was taking him further and further away from the outer wall, but the two guards behind him wouldn't be taken by surprise like the ones in the shack. They knew he could be trouble and were ready for it now.

The gate opened as they approached and Cole hesitated, only to be shocked forward by one of the guards with a snarled command. His legs felt like lead, his stomach twisted in fear as he crossed the threshold and into the dark stone halls beyond. The walls were lit with torches in holders, guttering and flickering as he passed by, tapestries dangling here and there displaying the many conquests of the Gryphon Empire. Like his homeland. They'd been just farmers and merchants when the gryphons had swept over their borders. For a while after that they'd been refugees and resistance fighters. Now they were just slaves.

He was shoved forward again, stumbling and nearly falling, hand coming out to catch himself against the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the stonework. "I'm going, I'm going," he muttered, a faint fire of resentment sparking in him. What did he have to lose if they were going to kill him anyway? He took a step forward, only for a set of claws to wrap around his neck and yank him back, forcing a squawk of surprise from him as one of the guards forced him round to face the sticky mark he'd left on the wall.

"You're making a mess in Lord Torvid's castle, mouse," it snarled. "Clean it up."

"With what?" Cole shot back, trying to twist his head away from those grasping claws as he was pushed closer and closer to the wall.

"Lick," the gryphon snarled. "I want you to lick up every last trace of your filthy coward's blood until that wall is spotless."

He was still trying to pull his head back as he was forced slowly towards the wall. Those claws slowly tightened, the rough skin digging in, talons pricking his skin dangerously close to his eyes.

"If I have to ask again, mouse," the gryphon whispered, that hooked beak inches from Cole's ear, hooked claws digging in, dimpling his skin, hungry to pierce his flesh. "I'll take an eye as payment and tell Torvid you injured yourself when you tried to run."

A wave of terror washed through him like he'd just plunged into a frozen lake, stifling the words of defiance on his lips, and settling a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He eyed the rough stone wall, his blood already drying on it. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to remove. He had to do it now. Now, or lose an eye. Even with that threat he hesitated before finding the will to close that final distance.

Cole's lips touched the cold, rough stone and he shuddered at the taste. His mouth opened, tongue sliding out, dabbing tentatively at the sticky, drying smear. He gagged, throat clenching as saliva flooded his mouth. Gods, no. He couldn't be sick. Who knew what they'd do to him if he threw up? Probably make him get down on his knees and eat it. So he forced the bile back down and licked again. And again. And again. Little by stomach-wrenchingly little he licked up the traces of his own blood, his tongue raw and aching by the end of it, muscles tense and sore from trying not to retch.

The gryphon lifted its claws away, shoving him off to one side as it leaned in to inspect the wall, finally giving a grunt of satisfaction. "It'll do, mouse. It'll do. Now move. We've kept Lord Torvid waiting for long enough."

Cole didn't need to be told twice, starting to move before they had a chance to shove or cuff him with a balled up paw. Occasionally they would bark a command, directing him down a staircase or along a certain hall. He'd lost track of the way they'd come in, so even if he did try to escape he'd be hopelessly lost as to where the exit was. Finally they arrived in front of a plain door, no more ornamented than any of the others, presumably so any rebels who stormed the place wouldn't have any obvious way of identifying which room Torvid might be in.

The other gryphon moved forward, rapping its claws on the door and calling something in their animalistic language. There was a reply from within and the two guards glanced over his head, exchanging a open-beaked smirk. "Go on in, mouse," the first growled. "The Lord will see you now."

Cole stepped forward, reaching for the handle with trembling, nerveless fingers. He tried to open the door and failed the first time, finally managing to push the long brass lever down on his second attempt. He opened the door and stepped through into a scene from a nightmare.

The first thing he was aware of was feathers. Dark blue feathers. The second was sharp green eyes set over a sharp beak that were staring at him as he stood in the doorway. The third was the wheezing, gasping sounds of the man pinned to the hard stone floor. The other man was on his belly, clothes in tatters, his exposed flesh crisscrossed with slashes from the gryphon's claws.

But the beast wasn't doing anything to actively torment or torture him this time. No. Instead, Torvid was sat atop the slowly suffocating him human, perched on him as if he was little more than a rug or chair, and slowly crushing him. He was suffocating the twitching, struggling slave with the nothing more than the pressure of his body. The suffocating man's mouth worked soundlessly as his eyes locked onto Cole's, a hand lifting, trembling in the air in silent entreaty as he reached out for help.

"You must be the slave my guards collected for me," the gryphon rumbled, barely seeming to be aware of the man's dying struggles. The other slave's feet thumped weakly on the floor as that entreating hand slowly began to falter. His mouth was still working, trying to draw breath as his lungs were compressed. He spasmed suddenly as there was a soft crack and Cole realised with horror that he'd just heard one of the man's ribs break. Torvid grunted, shifting his weight on his slowly dying 'seat', and that new pressure was all it took. There was another crack, followed by a soft, rattling sigh as the man finally succumbed to the crushing weight of the beast.

Torvid tutted, head tilting as he looked down at that outstretched arm now lying limp on the floor. "They just don't seem to last like they used to. Perhaps inbreeding will finally be the end of you scurrying things." He lifted his weight from the crushed and mangled body, eyeing it up, grunting in annoyance as he noticed blood trickling from the dead man's eyes and mouth. "I will need to have that cleaned up, I suppose, but it can wait."

Torvid shook himself to settle his feathers and began to pace towards Cole. "Let's discuss why you're here. You are the one they call Cole. You are the leader of the slave group working on the outer walls, yes?"

Cole swallowed hard, backing up as the huge gryphon advanced on him. "Y-yes," he mumbled, then remembered his manners. "Sir. That's me. Cole." He wracked his brain, trying to think what that would have to do with anything. Was someone stealing building materials? Slacking off? Was this some criticism of his work? Surely not. You wouldn't drag someone out of bed in the middle of the night to tell them they're doing a bad job, right?

Torvid clicked his beak thoughtfully. "Well good. And three days ago were you and your little pack of other humans working on the west wall? The one near the woods? I had been told by my guards that there was a disturbance."

Cole blinked. At the same moment his back thumped against the wall. Nowhere else to go as Torvid continued to advance, the beast standing taller than he did, towering over him, predatory eyes staring down at him. Three days ago? Oh wait. Yes. There had been an argument. Two of the men had got into it, something about missing tools. One moment there were raised voices and the next fists were flying. It had drawn a crowd before the guards had shown up to break it up with fists and whips.

"I...remember?" he croaked, his mouth and throat painfully dry. "There was an argument, the guards broke it up, the man who threw the first punch got six lashes and the other got his rations docked for the day."

"Mmm." Torvid began to prowl, slowly pacing back and forth as Cole pressed himself as close to the wall as he possibly could. "And did you happen to notice at the end of that shift that you had one slave less than when you started?"

"I-" he paused, about to deny that such a thing could have happened. He always counted the men in and out, making sure nobody had tried to attach themselves to his group in the hope of getting double rations or someone trying to slip away and shirk the job. But on that day there'd been a lot of jostling and shoving, the men still wound up from the entertainment of the fight. He'd tried to do the count. He had. He was sure he'd counted right. He had counted right. He had. Right?

"I counted them in and out," he finally replied. "I'm sure there were as many men at the end as there were at the start. Fourteen. Same as every other day." But even as the words left his lips, he knew he must be wrong. Why else would he be here? He'd missed something. Was all that jostling and shoving cover for someone? Disguising that there was one less or one more head than there should be?

Fuck.

Cole dipped his head and lunged past the gryphon, sprinting for the window on the far side of the room. If he could make it out, maybe he still had a chance of escaping. He could still take his chances with the wolves and whatever else lurked outside the dubious safety of the walls.

For the second time that night he suddenly ended up measuring his length on the floor as Torvid reached out, faster than he thought such a beast could move, and swatted his leg out from under him with a flick of one great wing. Cole landed hard, sliding along the stone floor, the wind knocked out of him.

"Well now. And what am I supposed to make of this?" Torvid asked, his voice surprisingly genial even as Cole gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "An innocent man would feel the need to run, would he? Which means I can only conclude that you knew you were a man down at final count and covered it up. Which then leads me to further conclude that you must be working with that annoying little so-called freedom movement that's been stirring up trouble in some of the other provinces." Torvid bent down, grasping Cole's shoulders in his forepaws and yanking him up from the floor. "And I will not tolerate that nonsense here. An example must be made. A message sent that if any of the other slaves think about getting involved, their punishment will be severe."

With that he released his grip. Cole had a moment to open his mouth, to try and protest his innocence, before a balled up fist slammed into his stomach and doubled him over in shock and pain. He retched as he stumbled back, lifting his head only to be met with another blow, this one an open-handed smack that spun him around and sent him crashing to the ground once more in a semi-conscious heap.

Cole didn't have time to try and stand back up before Torvid loomed over him. He tried to move, tried to crawl along the floor as visions of the other man's fate filled his thoughts. His nails dug into the floor, feet pushing, but he couldn't think straight, couldn't coordinate his movements

"Pathetic," Torvid growled and a moment later the gryphon dropped his weight down onto the squirming human, pinning him to the ground. He made sure that Cole's head was free, sticking out between his forelegs so that he could look down and watch the human's face turning red as he struggled for breath.

Cole tried to move, tried to lift the gryphon off him, failing that he tried to get even a little space, something to relieve that crushing, smothering weight. He tried jabbing his heels into the gryphon's belly, poking with his elbows, even turning his head to try and bite at those legs that lay just out of reach to either side. His mouth worked soundlessly, wheezing as his lungs tried desperately to expand against the hard stone floor. His heartbeat thundered in his skull, his head aching from the pressure, the pain behind his eyes almost excruciating as his body was compressed.

Just as he felt his head might actually burst, Torvid lifted his body up and Cole gasped for air, coughing and choking and gasping some more as he rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball. Nothing felt broken, not yet, but everything hurt like he'd just done a triple shift smashing rocks in the quarry.

Torvid stood over him, letting him catch his breath. "Tell me who your contacts are with the resistance and I'll grant you the mercy of a quick death. Defy me and I'll make your death one of the history books. " Torvid leaned in close, his voice dripping with malice, "I'll smother the life out of you little by little. I'll crush your limbs and snap your bones and, when I'm done, I'll hang your body out my window as a warning to the others int his pathetic little camp that I am NOT to be fucked with."

Cole stared at him in horror. Names? He didn't have any names to give. Should he give him anyone's name instead? His neighbours? Men from the group? He couldn't even give the name of the man who was gone as he had no idea who it might be. His mouth worked as he tried to think of something to say, something that might save his own life.

Torvid tutted. "A pity. You little things always pick the hard way." This time Torvid didn't lie down on him, he sat. Not only that, he rolled Cole onto his back so that, when he sat down on the thrashing human, the gryphon's balls were draped right over Cole's face. He tried to bite at the soft, fuzzy skin but his teeth couldn't get purchase and all that brought was a throaty, sadistic chuckle of amusement from the gryphon. The pain was even worse this time, his body screaming at him for relief, his head throbbing, hands and feet pushing and straining as he tried to wriggle out from under Torvid's weight.

The world started to blur at the edges, his mouth again gaping wide as his face turned red, then purple, his eyes bloodshot as the pressure burst the veins in his eyes. He couldn't breathe. Please. He just needed a sip of air. Just a little. He couldn't hear anything over the frantic hammering of his own laboured heartbeat and the rushing force of the blood that was filling his head to overflowing. Please. Please stop. He didn't want to die like this.

And then the pressure was gone. He could barely muster the energy to cough this time, wheezing and gasping as he lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He was barely even aware of the gryphon standing over him again until Torvid slapped him, sharp claws raking across his cheek and drawing long, bloody stripes in his flesh.

"Pitiful," the gryphon snarled, shoving Cole over, sending him sliding along the floor in the same way a cat might toy with its food, watching as he weakly struggled and croaked something that might have been a plea for mercy. "You've got even less fight in you than the last one. At least he cursed me and fought to the very end. I've seen three day old cubs, fresh from the shell, with more fight in them than you."

Torvid shook his head in disgust. "I suppose I should just accept that you've not got anything worthwhile to tell me. Still, there's all the others members of your work gang. I'm sure if we work through them, one of them will tell me what I want to know. Perhaps seeing your broken bodies put on display one by one will eventually loosen their mouths."

Cole could hear the words, but they barely made sense to him. Everything hurt. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore. When Torvid again rolled him onto his back he could only put up a token protest before his body was again crushed beneath the gryphon's weight. This time Torvid upped the humiliation by sitting on his chest, mashing Cole's face up against the crinkled ring of his tailhole. The human wheezed, twitched, his hands lifting to try and push the weight off, legs kicking faintly at the floor as if he could somehow run away.

The thunder of his own heartbeat again flooded his senses, the world spinning and twisting, growing distant as if he was falling down a long tunnel. But then the oddest thing happened. His heartbeat that had been so loud was starting to falter and grow distant. It skipped beats, growing erratic and weak. Cole felt like that should mean something. Something important. But just as he tried to grasp the thought, he breathed his last and then he thought nothing at all.

Torvid snorted as he lifted his rump off the still body. "How this one made it to be a leader of men I will never understand." He idly wiped his hind paws on the ragged clothes that covered the corpse before he raised his voice to call for his guards. The door opened and the pair quickly moved in to collect the bodies.

Torvid paused, clicking his beak thoughtfully "No. On second thoughts belay that. Get me the next name on the list, but leave the bodies where they are. Perhaps seeing their dead companions will loosen their tongue."

The guards nodded in unison, bowing low to their lord before they hurried out to carry out his command. Torvid returned to the window, gazing out over the array of huts and shacks, tapping his claws lightly on the windowsill. One of them would talk. Sooner or later. They always did.