Free Wednesdays in the Tower by Jessica Day George Page A

the others’ holiday feast every year? Took away their best rooms, their furnishings, their stockpiles of silk and velvet?
    Why was it doing this?
    Sensing that she was distracted, Rufus took his ball back across the tower and began tearing it apart. Celie finally roused herself and hurried over to him. He had his wings hunched up and was trying to hide beneath them. He’d ripped up two balls so far that week, and sometimes it took the Castle a couple of days to provide a new one. Besides, it was hard to clean up all the lamb’s wool stuffing and bits of leather.
    “Give it to me,” Celie said, snapping her fingers at him. Rufus ignored her. “Come on, give it!”
    She looked around and spotted another toy the Castle had sent. It was made out of fur and looked like a squirrelthat had been flattened. She ran over and picked it up, going toward Rufus with the flat squirrel in one hand. She clucked her tongue and shook the toy at him.
    “Here, boy! Have Flat Squirrel! Flat Squirrel is funny! Let’s play with him!”
    Rufus took one look at the thing hanging from her hand and stopped tearing up the ball. He backed away from her, cowering, making a weird whining noise.
    “What’s the matter, Rufus?” She kept walking toward him, concerned now. “Come here, boy! What’s wrong?”
    It dawned on her that his yellow eyes were fixed on the toy in her hand, and that was what he was backing away from. She put it behind her back, and he visibly relaxed. She tossed it behind a wicker chest that she kept his food and toys in, and he immediately bounded around her, clacking his beak happily.
    “So, you’re terrified of mashed squirrels?” Celie was temporarily diverted from her disturbing questions about the Castle. “That’s interesting.”
    Down the stairs in her bedchamber, she heard the door slam. She stiffened.
    “Celie?”
    “It’s just Bran,” she told Rufus, who had sensed her nervousness and let out a caw of alarm. “We’re up here,” she called down the stairs. She heard him make a muffled exclamation, and he started up the stairs. “This is the funniest thing; watch what happens if I show him that squir— You’re not Bran!”
    She ended in a shriek, leaping backward as Pogue entered the tower with a stack of books in his arms. He froze for a moment, and then dropped the books with an oath when he saw Rufus. Rufus, for his part, extended his wings and let out a scream of rage at the intruder.
    “What is that thing?” Pogue shouted. He looked like he was torn between defending Celie and running for his life.
    “How did you get into my room?” Celie demanded.
    “What? I came in through the door!” Pogue was still shouting. “But what is that thing?”
    Now Pogue did take a few steps farther into the room and put his big, calloused hand on Celie’s shoulder, trying to tug her behind him and to the stairs. She didn’t budge, though, and Rufus let out another angry cry when he saw Pogue touching his beloved Celie.
    “It’s okay, Pogue, it’s just a griffin,” Celie said, hoping to calm both Pogue and Rufus before someone heard Rufus’s cries. “Rufus, be quiet!”
    “ Rufus ?” Pogue was still trying to move her away from the griffin. “You mean it came back? After it ate Khelsh?”
    “No, he’s a new one. I hatched him from an egg. He’s not dangerous!”
    Rufus kept on sounding what Celie guessed was some sort of griffin war cry, and he was either going to permanently deafen her or rouse the entire Castle. His fur stood on end, and his wings were still raised. She ducked under his left wing and ran to the wicker chest, retrieved Flat Squirrel, and held it aloft.
    “Rufus! Be quiet!” Celie put all the command she could into her voice.
    He turned, saw Flat Squirrel, and immediately cowered back.
    She blew her sweaty hair out of her eyes. Then she waved the toy again. “Now, sit!”
    Rufus sat.
    “What is that thing?” Pogue asked.
    “I told you, it’s a griffin,” Celie said,