Beastbound: The Gryphon Tamer

Benjamin's legs burned as he ran, his chest heaving with every breath. The forest was a blur of glowing plants, twisting roots, and dense foliage. The relentless pounding of the Tinnin's steps behind him echoed through the air, sometimes distant, sometimes uncomfortably close. The predator wasn't giving up. It was smart, guessing his direction and cutting through the forest with terrifying precision.

He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus. He remembered what he'd absorbed about the Tinnin from the books—it was like a lion in its hunting behavior. It wasn't built for long pursuits. Its stamina would wane eventually, but only if he could keep out of reach long enough. Unfortunately, its hunger might drive it to push past its limits.

As the forest thinned slightly, the sound of the rushing river reached his ears. His mind raced. The river. The raging water could be his way out.

The Tinnin's booming strides grew louder again, the creature closing in. Benjamin veered toward the riverbank, glancing over his shoulder. Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of the predator's glowing bioluminescent head and swaying tail. Its massive form moved with alarming speed, snapping branches and crushing foliage in its path. It saw him now and let out a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down his spine.

The river came into view, its foaming currents surging violently between rocky banks. Benjamin didn't hesitate. He sprinted to the edge, his heart pounding as he heard the Tinnin's growl grow louder, almost triumphant. The creature slowed momentarily, watching him from a distance of about 300 meters. Its glowing eyes locked onto him with predatory excitement, convinced its prey was cornered.

Without thinking, Benjamin hurled himself into the river.

The icy water hit him like a wall, knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped, struggling to stay afloat as the powerful current swept him away. The river roared in his ears, drowning out the sound of the forest and the Tinnin's growls. He fought to keep his head above water, kicking furiously, but the current was too strong. It dragged him under, spinning him like a ragdoll. He clawed his way back to the surface, gulping for air, only to be yanked under again.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Tinnin standing at the riverbank. It paced back and forth, letting out an agitated growl. The creature clearly hated the idea of swimming in the deep, raging water and, after a moment of hesitation, relented. It let out a frustrated roar before turning back toward the forest.

Benjamin had escaped—for now.

But the river wasn't done with him. The current tossed him like a leaf, slamming him into rocks and carrying him downstream. He fought to keep his head up, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His vision blurred, his strength fading with every passing second.

Just as he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, his body slammed into a large rock jutting out of the water. The impact left him gasping, but it gave him a chance. He reached out, gripping the rock with trembling hands, and hauled himself onto its slippery surface. Water poured off him as he collapsed onto the stone, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

For a few moments, he simply lay there, the roar of the river surrounding him. His arms and legs felt like lead, and every breath burned his lungs. Slowly, he crawled to the edge of the rock and looked at the riverbank nearby. It wasn't far—maybe a short jump.

Gathering what little strength he had left, Benjamin pushed himself up. His legs wobbled as he prepared to jump. With a grunt of effort, he leaped from the rock and crashed onto the muddy bank, sprawling onto the ground.

He lay there for what felt like hours, the damp earth cool against his skin. His body screamed in pain, but he was alive. The Tinnin was gone, and for now, he was safe.

As his breathing slowed, Benjamin stared up at the strange alien sky above the forest. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by exhaustion, but he knew he couldn't rest for long. The forest was still full of dangers, and he had barely survived his first encounter.

"I need to get stronger," he whispered hoarsely, clenching his fists. "If I keep running, I won't last long in this world."

--

Benjamin's experience as a weekend hiker back on Earth came rushing back to him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to help him survive in this strange world. Shivering from the cold of his wet clothes, he found a safe area in the forest—a small clearing away from the river—and began setting up a rudimentary camp.

He removed his soaked clothes, wringing them out as best he could, and hung them over a stick wedged between two low-hanging branches. Starting a fire proved to be a challenge; the dampness of the surrounding wood and his exhaustion made the task arduous. It took him nearly two hours, but eventually, the sparks he coaxed from some dry twigs caught, and a small fire crackled to life.

The warmth of the flames was a welcome relief. Benjamin sat close to the fire, his body drying slowly as he rotated to let the heat reach every part of him. His clothes, hanging nearby, began to steam, releasing the last of their moisture into the air.

---

From his food pouch, he retrieved a few of the wild fruits he'd picked earlier. These were similar to a type he remembered reading about in one of the books he'd absorbed—fruits native to the Eastern continent, nutritious but better cooked to soften their tough skin and release a sweeter flavor. Using a long stick, he skewered the fruits and roasted them over the fire. Their alien, spiral textures blackened slightly, releasing a tangy aroma that reminded him faintly of citrus.

The first bite was strange but satisfying, a mix of flavors he couldn't quite compare to anything from Earth. It filled him with a warmth that helped stave off his fatigue. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, knowing he needed to conserve energy and food.

---

Once he finished eating, Benjamin lay down on the forest floor, covering himself with large leaves and sticks from the trees nearby. The leaves had a waxy surface that retained some heat from the fire, and though the makeshift bedding wasn't comfortable, it was enough to keep him from the cold night air. Exhaustion overtook him quickly, pulling him into a dreamless sleep.

---

Hours later, Benjamin woke with a jolt. His heart raced as he scanned his surroundings, his body tense in anticipation of danger. But the forest was calm. The fire had died down to embers, and the faint glow of dawn illuminated the strange trees around him. He exhaled deeply, relieved to find himself unharmed.

Rising to his feet, he retrieved his now-damp clothes from the makeshift line. Though they were still a little moist, they were wearable. He dressed quickly, packed what little he had, and prepared to move.

Before leaving, an idea struck him. Focusing on the embers of his fire, he concentrated on the image of the entire fireplace as a single entity. To his amazement, the ring responded, pulling the fireplace into its space. The fire, stones, and arrangement of sticks vanished into the ring, leaving nothing but an empty patch of scorched earth behind.

Benjamin allowed himself a small smile. "This is going to make things easier," he muttered.

---

He resumed his journey, once again following the river's flow. The familiar sound of rushing water kept him focused as he navigated the alien landscape. The memory of the Tinnin and his near-death experience lingered, but the warmth of his campfire and the knowledge he had absorbed gave him a small sense of confidence.

"Keep moving," he told himself. "Learn, adapt, survive."

--

After hours of walking, Benjamin finally emerged from the dense forest into an open expanse of grassland. The sight of the endless greenery and the soft rustling of the wind against the tall grass filled him with a rare sense of peace. His eyes were drawn to a large hill rising in the distance, its peak promising a better view of his surroundings. With a deep breath, he began the climb.

By the time he reached the top, the sun was beginning to set, painting the alien sky in hues of deep orange and blue. He froze at the sight that awaited him: a city in the distance, its faint outline marked by walls, towers, and the unmistakable shimmer of lights beginning to appear as night approached.

For the first time since arriving in this strange world, Benjamin felt a surge of hope. Civilization. People. Maybe even answers. He let himself savor the moment, closing his eyes and murmuring a quiet thanks—whether to himself, to whatever force had brought him here, or to no one in particular, he didn't know.

The city was about 30 kilometers away, but he could see a main road cutting through the grasslands about 10 kilometers ahead, leading straight toward it. He calculated the distance in his head. With determination and steady walking, he could make it there by nightfall if he pushed himself. His muscles ached, but the thought of reaching safety spurred him forward.

---

As he walked, his mind wandered to what he had absorbed from the books in the sanctuary. The world—its people, its creatures, its lands—was vast and strange. The humans of this world, called Bishirs, were the most widespread sentient race, much like humanity back on Earth. Yet they were diverse, with distinct ethnic features depending on the continent they hailed from. The Bishirs of the Eastern continent looked much like him—dark hair, darker eyes, and skin tones ranging from light to deep bronze. It explained why he blended in so seamlessly, even in his altered form.

But Bishirs weren't the only intelligent beings in this world. There were the Hayawas, who bore the traits of beasts—furred ears, sharp claws, and powerful builds that made them natural warriors and hunters. Then there were the Udhuns, an ethereal people with elongated features and sharp, pointed ears, resembling the elves of Earth's myths. They were said to be deeply attuned to the natural laws of the world, making them powerful sages and artists.

Beyond them were beings more ancient and mysterious, creatures only hinted at in fragments of the books he had absorbed. Their names were unfamiliar, and their purpose in the world was shrouded in mystery, but Benjamin felt a lingering curiosity tugging at him.

---

The walk was long, his legs growing heavier with every step, but Benjamin pressed on. He knew that stopping now could leave him vulnerable to whatever dangers might lurk in the grasslands at night. The fading sun cast long shadows across the open field, and he quickened his pace, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"This world," he muttered, "is bigger and stranger than I ever imagined."

But with each step toward the distant city, his resolve hardened. He didn't know what lay ahead—who he would meet, what challenges he would face—but he knew he had to keep moving forward.