Help us never forget our past and our true nature.

―Griffon prayer and plea to their ancestors

Gilda and I walked alongside each other, as she led us through the city towards her home. As soon as the cool afternoon breeze hit me, I could immediately feel some of the alcoholic fog that clouded my mind begin to dissipate, though this also brought with it a renewed tugging at my mind to obey my mark.

As we continued forward, there was a noticeable shift in species, from ponies towards griffons, until it appeared that I was the only one. One factor that united them however was that every single one stared at us as we walked past.

“Why are they all looking at us?” I questioned, whilst trying my best to hide my unease.

“Jeeze dweeb, don’t tell me you don’t even know that.”

Glancing at her sideways I gave her a deadpanned expression.

“Right, right,” she spoke with a sigh, “It’s just unusual, for a griffon and pony to be seen walking together. Our kinds don’t really get along.”

Though I was interested to hear more about this, now was not the time to push anything. I was in a tenuous position, and if I were to anger Gilda in any way, it could have major adverse effects on my goal to convince her.

As we continued on, I began to notice a disturbing trend in the griffons walking all around us.

These griffons, whilst displaying reasonably similar colour patterns to Gilda, differed in a key point. They all seemed to be malnourished, with rib cages outlined prominently through their coats, which themselves lacked the lustre that Gilda’s displayed. Their muscles also featured much the same thing with forelimbs that were alarmingly skinny and wings that seemed to have majorly undeveloped muscles. Perhaps most disturbingly of all, were their eyes. They all seemed to be glazed over and unfocused, even when they were looking directly at us. They were eyes of a people who had given up hope, and now only drifted through life.

For as long as I could, I tried to ignore the issue and keep quiet but soon enough I could no longer bear it.

“Gilda,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth, “what’s wrong with all the other griffons?”

I appeared to have hit a nerve, as she stopped her walking and instead rounded on me.

“Look are you going to keep asking me all these stupid questions, or are we going to get to my house, and finally prove that you’re lying?” Her voice once again adopting the tone of rage that she seemed to favour.

Quickly I raised my right hoof in the gesture of appeasement though it did little to quell my own growing worry.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I won’t say another word until you do.”

Thankfully, this managed to placate her, as she turned around and continued walking, her tail whipping aggressively. She didn’t even stop to check if I was following, she just kept on moving.

Suddenly, I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding, and galloped until I was once again alongside Gilda.

We soon arrived at a house that seemed eerily similar to all those around it. By this point, darkness had begun to overtake the sky above, and the number of pedestrians on the street had dropped dramatically.

Constructed of the same marble as every other building in the city, it did not change the image of poverty it projected. The roof seemed to be made of a basic thatch, which was a disgustingly brown colour that sagged alarmingly in one corner. The marble itself was stained so heavily, it was practically black in some spots, whilst in other it was considerably brighter, as if someone started to clean it and had then gave up on the endeavour shortly afterwards, as a lost cause.

Walking up to the door, Gilda withdrew a dull iron key from out of the purse that hung around her neck, and inserted it into the lock. Shortly afterwards, the conformational click was heard though even then, she still had to shoulder the door rather aggressively, to get it to open wide enough to permit us.

As soon as this was done, Gilda motioned me in. Standing still for a moment, hesitation gripped me. Inside that house lay practically the only possible way in which I could convince her of my true nature. However, entering it was also a huge leap of faith on my part, faith being something I had in short supply, after the suffering inflicted on me by Celestia.

Taking one last breath of clean, crisp air I summoned up my courage, and walked through the doorway before I could begin to analyse the situation any further.

The houses’ interior looked old and worn out. The walls seemed to be a bluish colour, though it was hard to tell in the dimness of the room. Directly to the left of the door, sat a large sofa, which seemed to be comfortable, if only because of how beat up it was. Tucked into the corner next to the sofa, was a dilapidated side table, that barely seemed to hold itself together. It was evidently deemed stable enough to set the plain, but functional candlestick on it. Laying on the floorboards directly in front of the sofa, was a threadbare rug so worn, that the color was fading from individual threads, rather than the fabric as a whole. Set into the far left corner, was a door. It presumably led to the rest of the house, which based on its size, was probably only a small bedroom and bathroom.

The right side of the room was dedicated to a small kitchenette and dining area. This area seemed to be tiled with some type of stone, and had in its centre, a small table with two chairs facing each other.

As soon as the door had shut, Gilda began to light the various candles that lay scattered around the room, with a strange device that she had retrieved from the table. It consisted of a long, thin brass rod, with a red, glowing crystal attached to it. When the crystal was touched to a wick, the wick would catch alight, immediately.

Once Gilda had finished lighting the room, she deposited the device back on the table from where she had obtained it, and motioned for me to take a seat in the kitchen.

Once I had complied Gilda walked over to the threadbare rug and hooked a claw underneath it, sweeping it off to one side. Underneath lay a trap door that I could only assume lead to the basement. This was swiftly opened, though this time, it warranted a grunt of effort on Gilda’s part. Frankly I didn’t blame her for that, it seemed to be made of the same heavy oak as the floor, and had iron reinforcements underneath it, to provide greater strength, as well as a latch that looked like it was made to lock it from the inside.

Without any apparent hesitation, Gilda began to descend down into the dark depths despite the lack of light. After a few steps down she glanced at me as if it was an afterthought.

“Don’t touch or move anything,” She commanded, “Just sit still and I’ll be back with our meal in a moment.”

So I did just that. I had already pushed my luck with the griffoness already, and I did not wish to destroy my chance at convincing her over something so petty as nosing around her things. Every so often a sound would emanate from the trapdoor and though I was tempted to follow her and see, just what it was that was down there I didn’t move an inch.

In fact this worked too well as my thoughts with nothing to occupying them soon drifted. It didn’t seem that this griffon would have any textile supplies herself, or even anything hoof-knitted or stitched at all. That would be the perfect gift for her to thank her for her kindness today, perhaps a scarf for the upcoming winter weather.

I knew that I should avoid these thoughts, but really, what was the point? All I did by denying them was make myself unhappy. Perhaps it was time for me to stop struggling and embrace the role that would best serve my fellow man.

I was so deeply engrossed in these thoughts that I did not even hear Gilda re-enter the room. I only became aware of her presence when a chipped plate was unceremoniously placed before me.

After that she went to the other side of the small table and placed a separate plate before herself, which featured a completely different colour and pattern from mine, before taking her own seat.

Examining what lay on the plate before me my brain took a few moments to compute what it was, it had been so long since I had seen it last.

“This is your challenge?” I questioned disbelievingly, “jerky?”

“Yes,” she replied simply, “you said hoomans were omnivores like griffons didn’t you? Just eat it all and you can consider me convinced.”

“Its pronounced humans, actually,” I replied almost unconsciously, a hint of annoyance entering my voice.

Picking it up with the first joint of my right forearm I examined it more closely. It looked like any everyday beef jerky you could find back on Earth but then again all jerky—no matter the donor—tended to look the same.

Bringing it closer to my face I took a tentative sniff where I was met with one of the strangest and disturbing sensation of my life. As soon as the heavenly aroma hit my nostrils I could feel my mouth begin to water in delight. However, this was also greeted by a feeling of disgust. How could anything possibly eat another living being? It was barbaric.

Slowly I became aware of my own thoughts. Even as the realisation hit me for what was causing it I could feel my eyes widen in terror at the implication and my heart begin to beat harder in my chest. It was my mark that was making me feel this way. I had eaten meat for practically every day of my life up until coming to Equestria, and I never once had an ethical qualm about it. It was the only logical explanation. Even now, this far away from the castle, I was still subjected to Celestia’s influence to turn me into the model little pony who was happy in chains.

I would need time to muster up the will to overcome this latest bout of mind manipulation, but I was trapped as any pausing on my part would look like hesitation to Gilda.

I would have to make small talk for a time to attempt to delay things.

“So what animals is it from?” I asked, whilst noting the disturbingly close scrutiny Gilda was giving me.

“I’m not sure,” She replied. Swiftly she picked up her own serving and took an aggressive bite from it. Taking a few moments to chew it she appeared to mull it over for a moment. “It’s deer.”

“Ah, venison, something I’ll admit to not having eaten much of.”

“Look, you can use all the correct terminology in the world, but until you eat it, you’ll still just be a pony.”

From her tone, it was clear that she was growing impatient, and so it would be impossible to stall her any longer.

Clearing my mind as best I could, I stuffed about half of the strip in my mouth so fast it was impossible to hesitate.

It was awkward to both bite and chew the jerky owing to the herbivorous dentistry I possessed, forcing me to employ a grinding motion, that made my sore jaw ache even more.

Swallowing down the fine paste I had reduced the jerky to, I only had a single thought. It was delicious, no amount of control exerted over me could change that. Though, despite this, there was still a part of me that felt off by eating it. Like I was somehow breaking a law, so ingrained, it was unnecessary to voice.

Certainly, there was no real physical danger from me eating this. I may now be a herbivore, but all that meant was that I wouldn’t get any real energy from this. As long as I didn’t eat it exclusively, I should be okay. Though, realistically, it would have to be a reasonably rare thing, or I could soon become malnourished.

Now that the initial step had been taken, and I had overcome my mark’s latest attempt at influencing me, I was able to finish the rest of my meal with little problem. Despite this, Gilda still watched me, like a proverbial hawk the entire time, and did not even attempt to eat her own serving.

“Well,” She spoke after I had swallowed the last bite, “you passed the test so I guess that proves it then.”

“Really, that’s it?” I asked, feeling slightly off put by her unruffled acceptance, “nothing besides a simple ‘I believe you’.”

“What did you expect, a parade in your honour, or something?” she sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes in the process.

She was right, what was there to do other than to accept it and move forward? Relaxing for the first time since I had first told my story to her, the true magnitude of what I had accomplished suddenly hit me. I had convinced someone of my humanity, and in doing, so gained an ally in this world who is not in some way connected to Celestia. I still had no idea what I was going to do with myself or my cutie mark now, but at least tomorrow looked a little less bleak.

Suddenly, I remembered about the Griffons I had witnessed in our journey to Gilda’s home.

“Gilda, now that I proven to you that I’m really not from this world, could you please tell me why all those griffons looked so sick?”

For a second, it appeared that I would garner the same response that I had the first time, her eyes seemed to flash dangerously, and her wings flared at her sides. But then, suddenly, she lost her fighting spirit. It came out of her in a whoosh that left her deflated, and looking much smaller than she really was, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t need to explain that to you,” she spoke in a voice far quieter than I had ever heard from her before, “It makes me a little weaker every time I have to tell that story.”

“What story?” I inquired, feeling guilty for making my saviour feel so vulnerable, “Please Gilda, be strong, like I know you are.”

Glancing up at me, I could just see the slight mistiness from her eyes in the glow of the candles. Giving off a deep sigh, she began to speak in a monotone, as if what she was saying was ingrained in her memory.

There was once a time when the royal sisters were not the leaders they are now, when they did not rule over pony and griffon kind. They were once nothing but spiritual leaders, tasked with raising the sun and moon each day and night. With them was their mother, The Lady, Queen of Nature and its eternal protector. Under their care, the ponies of Equestria never wanted for anything. The sisters shouldered the burden of controlling the celestial objects in place of the unicorns, and their mother controlling the weather in place of the pegasi. In this way, the land of Equestria was a utopia, in which the ponies could pursue happiness for their entire lives and never want for anything.

At the same time existed the Griffon Empire, located in now what is modern northern Equestria. A proud nation, they looked on the ponies kingdom at what was first envy, thought it soon transformed into greed.

Once in the past, all races had their own corporeal gods. But as time went on, they faded, departed or died, leaving their chosen race to fend for themselves. In this, the griffons were a unique case, in that mythology spoke of the death of their gods at the claws of the very people they protected, the griffons growing tired of the eternal manipulation they represented. Supposedly, the entire dynasty of the empire’s rulers were descendents of the hero who had struck the first and final blow against the gods.

About 1500 years ago, one of the descendents of the god killer—and the then emperor—looked at Equestria with ambition. If he were to kill the god of another race, then his name would be spoken with the same reverence as his ancestors were, remembered until the end of time.

So the armies of the Griffon Empire marched. Being so mighty and numerous as to block out the sun as they flew by.

During this war both of the sisters lived in separate parts of the country where they walked amongst mortals and attempted to provide any kindness that they could. However, the Queen never once stepped outside of the capital, always ready to dispense advice to the nation’s leaders or mediate quarrels between the separate tribes, as it was in this day that their unification was only a few years old.

Every day, the army penetrated deeper into Equestria and closer to its capital city. No force that the ponies could muster was able to even slow their advance. Eventually, they made camp outside the capital, which had sparse troops to defend it.

Even then, The Lady still insisted that she and her daughters were to remain above the conflict. It was their duty to spread love and happiness in the world, not suffering.

One dark winter’s night, the griffons began their final assault on the city, and were soon in control of her battlements.

From there, they began their advance into the streets below, occupying anything of importance along the way, and pacifying those who would not submit.

During this time, the emperor himself took a troop of his elite personal guard, and began to search for his prey.

They found her at the shrine dedicated to nature, and it was there they fought; the mortal emperor, and the immortal goddess. The battle raged for hours, with no end in sight. Each combatant never seeming to gain the upper claw. Eventually, the emperor was able to land the killing blow, and he stood triumphant over his dying enemy.

Upon The Lady’s death, a great cry of pain rose up from the city. The intensity so great, that the griffon warriors believe that demons from Tartarus had risen to the mortal realm.

It was not this. Somehow, the ponies had all been linked to the immortal queen, and upon her death they were struck with the excruciating pain that she experienced in her dying moments. Nearly half died that night, unable to cope with the pain after living for so long without it. Others still were driven insane and left as babbling fools.

Taking advantage of this, the emperor was able to quickly pacify the entire city, and the surrounding area. All known leaders who were still alive were put to the sword, regardless of their mental faculties. Afters this, for a time, every griffon celebrated.

The two sisters immediately knew about their mothers death, and were consumed with rage. Gathering the final remnants of the Equestrian army they began their own march on the city.

Through the employments of powerful magics, their oath of non-involvement forgotten, they arrived at the city in a few short days.

In this time, the emperor had grown arrogant, and had neglected to begin rebuilding the defences of the city. He instead allowed for his troops to remain idle, as they raped, pillaged, and drunk as they saw fit.

The royal sisters fell on the city with furious vengeance, and were able to slay most of the griffons, including the emperor, within with little assistance from their own army. From here, they began to systematically destroy any garrisons that had been left behind in the initial griffon advance. Soon enough, more than half the griffon population also lay dead, and where they once experienced victory, they now knew only defeat. This all happened in the space of a week.

But the solar and lunar deities could not bring themselves to drive us to extinction, so they instead opted for a different approach. With the empire completely defeated, all of her cities were absorbed into Equestria, and the griffons were spread out to all of the different cities, in each one becoming a minority, even in those which they themselves founded.

In this, the sisters hoped to change our nature to that of the ponies we were now subjugated to. They banned us from eating meat and hunting, whilst hoping that we would soon integrate into the communities, so that one day we would be no different.

At the same time, the sisters ascended to the thrones of the newly reformed Equestrian government, and made the promise that they would never again stand idle, whilst the ponies that they protected were under threat.

So is the tale of the griffon’s fate, may we never forget it, so that in some way, we are still what we once were.

Upon uttering the last sentence, a silence fell between the two of us.

Gilda looked exhausted and drained, her wings hanging limply by her sides. Eyes that were once bright and fierce, were now glazed over and distant. What scared me most, was that she looked more like the other griffons we had met in the street, than the one who had given me a chance to prove myself.

“Gilda, I’m so sorry,” I sadly spoke, laying my hoof on top of her claw in an attempt to comfort her.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she snapped, wrenching her claw away.

Strangely enough, I was relieved by her reaction. At least now, a little bit of her usual attitude was returning.

She roughly picked up all the jerky on her plate, and swallowed it in two bites

“Every griffon’s taught that thing from the moment we’re born, word for word. It’s so that Celestia can never make us forget what she did to us all those years ago.”

“But then if meat’s illegal why do you have it?” I questions, though I could already guess the answer.

“Ancestors are you really that thick?” Her voice regained a little bit of its arrogance, “I’m a poacher, okay? I hunt animals, and then trade them for cash and other stuff.”

“But then what do the griffons eat that can’t get meat?”

“Feat,” she stated simply

“Feat?” I repeat quizzically, cocking my head to one side.

“Yeah, y’know. Fake meat. Feat. It’s some plant that’s meant to be a good replacement for the real stuff. It’s got some pony name as well Tobu, Tofu, Tomu, something like that. Anyway whatever it is, it doesn’t work properly and that’s why all those giffons looked so sick”

At the end of this explanation, silence once again fell between us, only interrupted by Gilda giving an enormous yawn that gave me a clear view of a secondary set of sharp teeth, housed behind her beak.

Without any warning, she suddenly made to stand, stretching like a cat in the process.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m going to bed. This day lasted long enough.”

“Um, Gilda,” I awkwardly began, “would it b—.”

“Its fine for you to stay here for tonight,” she interrupted whilst giving a weary shake of her head.

“I’ve got some spare blankets, though you’ll have to sleep on the coach.”

Giving a brief nod of thanks, I watched Gilda depart through the doorway only to reappear a minute later with a bundle of cloth.

“Well, goodnight,” She said, “I’ll see you in the morning, though I should warn you I’m up fairly early.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” I mumbled. I had not realised until that exact moment, how tired I really was. It had been a long day, and nowhere near an easy one.

I started to arrange the blankets into something that would make a serviceable bed. By the time that it was beginning to take shape I heard the screech of the slowly shutting door.

“Oh, and Gilda,” I began, still working on my bed and facing away from the door. I didn’t receive any verbal confirmation that Gilda was even there, though the door did halt its movement. “Thank you, for everything.”

I didn’t receive any response from her but the soft shutting of the door.

Letting out a mighty yawn, I blew out the few candles in the room and collapsed gratefully into my bed, where oblivion awaited me.