I suddenly found I could move again. I screamed and ducked. The gryphon sailed over my head and crashed into the wall. With a low growl, he turned to me again. He pounced, but this time I was ready. I dove again, letting myself slide across the floor. I somehow managed to evade his claws. I stopped within reach of the door. I scrambled to my feet and wrenched the door open.

I ran.

I flew down the long corridor, past the nearly-empty classrooms and the handful of students still in the halls. Everyone else would be outside by now, waiting on the bus or their parents. Some would already be walking home. I ran past a small group of kids walking in the other direction, chattering jovially. I'd had a few classes with these kids. As I barreled past, I knocked into one of them, but I didn't stop.

"Geez, Rory!" one called. "Slow down before you kill somebody!" As if I were what they had to worry about! Why weren't they running, too? I knew I was still being pursued: I could hear the monster behind me, the sound of metal crashing against metal as he slammed into open lockers, the sound of talons scratching the tile floor. So why was I the only one who seemed to recognize the danger? I remembered my dream. No one had paid the monster any attention then, either. Something occurred to me: what if they simply couldn't see it? It didn't make any sense that I alone could see the monster. Then again, it didn't make any sense that I was being chased by a homicidal mythological monster, either.

I made it outside and took off down the street. I made my way downtown. Every person I passed gave me a quizzical look. I guess I must have looked pretty weird— a twelve-year-old kid sprinting through the city in a yellow sundress and sandals with bookbag slung over her back, running for no apparent reason. I ignored them, but I couldn't ignore the burning in my lungs. I could hardly breathe. I ducked into a store on the corner of the block and paused to catch my breath. I glanced out the window. No sign of the gryphon. So why didn't I feel safe?

The shopkeeper— a young man, probably late twenties, with dark shaggy hair— looked at me with concern.

"Are you okay, kid?" he asked.

"Fine," I panted. No use telling him what happened. He'd never believe me, anyway.

"You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost. Why don't I call your parents for you?" He probably thought I was having some kind of nervous breakdown.

"No, really. I'm fine. I just thought..." I trailed off. What should I tell him? "Nevermind," I said. "It doesn't matter." The shopkeeper didn't respond, but he kept an eye on me as I moved through the store.

I had ducked into a pharmacy. There were rows full of every kind of medicine I could think of, as well as other medical supplies: gloves, surgical masks, gauze, bandages, and a bunch of equipment I didn't recognize. The two adjacent walls which face the street corner were lined with windows and were both fixed with sliding glass doors.

I had finally caught my breath. Still a bit uneasy, I looked up and down the streets through the windows, scouring them for some sign of the monster. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to the shopkeeper. I gave a small, awkward smile and waved as a way of saying "Okay. Well, bye."

Okay, I thought, I'm safe now. I was imagining things. Nothing is going to hap—

Without warning, the glass behind me shattered. Shrieking, I scrambled away from the window where the gryphon stood with his eagle's feet perched atop the remaining shards of glass. I was flooded with a sudden rush of adrenaline. My senses sharpened and my skin buzzed with energy. A fierce instinct took over with a single-minded purpose: survive. I bolted through the aisles, looking for something, anything, to use as a weapon, but the sharpest thing I could find was a pair of bandage scissors. What was I going to do, give him a haircut?

The shopkeeper was shouting into the phone, probably calling the police. I couldn't focus on that. I finally spotted something which gave me a crazy idea. Maybe even crazy enough to work.

There was a defibrillator on the wall opposite me. I ran toward it, dodging talons and a razor-sharp beak. Once I reached it, I turned it on and backed up to the wall, facing the gryphon. He leaped toward me again, claws outstretched. I ducked, but not quickly enough. Pain lanced out from my shoulder through my whole body. Blood gushed from three long gashes. Trying to ignore the pain, I thrust the defibrillator upward and made contact with the monster's belly. It screeched and fell to the ground with a thud that shook the building. It writhed in pain as electricity coursed through its body.

"Ha!" I laughed, but I sounded hysterical. "I can't believe that worked!" I knew it wouldn't kill the beast, but I took advantage of the opportunity to run. I'd bought myself some time, at least.

I went racing down the street, but before I could even round the corner, the monster was chasing me again. My hair kept falling into my face, obscuring my vision with streaks of gold. I wove in and out of alleyways, trying to shake it off my trail. It was too fast. Its eyesight and hearing were too keen. I was losing ground, and it was getting harder and harder to keep running. My lungs ached. My body was growing more fatigued by the second and I'd lost so much blood from my shoulder that I was getting dizzy. I turned sharply onto another alley street and came to an abrupt halt. It was a dead end.

Just like the dream, I thought wryly.

The gryphon screeched. I choked back a sob. I didn't want to die, but there was nowhere left to run. I looked up at the creature hovering over me, and I swear he looked triumphant. He swooped down toward me and... vanished.

A split second before he sunk his claws into me, before I became a kid-kebob, he exploded into yellow dust, leaving nothing behind but a foul, rotten odor. A knife clattered to the ground. Just then, I noticed two things. First, the knife, rather than being made of steel, sparkled with a coppery sheen in the sunlight. Second, standing there a few feet in front of me was a girl about five feet tall, thin, with dark brown hair and green eyes, whose face was as ashen as mine must have been. The one who had thrown the copper-colored blade.

It was Laurel.