The Cabin

Your instincts tell you to dodge to your right, so you let your body react. You sprint to your left, and ran a fast as your legs could carry you. After a pace or two, you spin to face your attacker with your knife ready. Holy frick, you think, I’m screwed. To your despair, your attacker is not some petty thief or creepy kidnapper, it’s a very, very large griffin. It probably stood at 7 feet at the shoulders, with 7 inch talons gleaming and a sharp beak ready to rip your throat out. You have no time to lose because it lets out an aggressive screech and starts charging you. In a split second, you: