Entry 025 - Griffi Vanilli (Part Three)

Five Years Ago…

Exhilaration!

Even though I was blitzing towards certain doom, the Red Racer was still making my run for the enemy a brilliant last stand. Together we blurred through the forest, screaming between the trees with the power of my whipping wings propelling us faster along the ground than I could fly. She responded to the smallest tug on her alloy reins without a hint of complaint, weaving both of us through the bushes and past mounds with ease.

Then it was back in my sights and the fear returned. I felt my chest clench and my body go colder than the wind bursting through it. I could have turned back now and blasted away from the Celestia-forsaken cesspit but I was a Trot, a griffon, and a MacRural. “Charging into battle recklessly where death and destruction await,” was our family motto, or at least it might as well have been. I pulled the throttle all the way, filled my breasts with air and screeched as we bounded into the mongrel killing grounds.

Speeding from the shadowy trees to the dull light still dazzled me momentarily. When I could see again I realized I was in the shade of a hellhound gawping idiotically at me. I was driving my iron steed straight towards them.

They dived to escape my trajectory as I turned to avoid them. Our paths continued to align and their chin hit the ground at the same time my wheel reached their neck. The bounce nearly threw me from Red Racer as she cracked through the head of her first victim. Satisfied with her dominance, she allowed me to swerve back around and halt sharply beside her kill, purring proudly.

I watched the stray struggle with death as its body bounced and its limbs clawed, its head sickeningly hanging on to the torso on a sock of sinew filled with broken bone. All eyes rose from it to me as it gurgled its final rattles and came to a gruesome twitching end.

“Buck,” I whispered and grabbed my rifle from my back, aiming it as the reunited monsters moved as one.

Blam, Blam!

I managed to wound one with the pair of bullets I fired, unfortunately not enough to stop the black horde bounding my way. With my emptied rifle allowed to swing under my leg, I twisted the controls with the other and zoomed forward. I nearly didn’t get out of the way in time as one set of claws glanced off of the metal on my wing. Not stopping to see which one, I rode as fast as Red Racer could take me. I did not need to look back, the anger of the calls and the smashing paws on the undergrowth behind me confirmed I was being followed. The rest of the pack didn’t appreciate a blue griffoness on a scarlet contraption killing their comrade.

“YOU DIE NOW GRIFFON!” The leading hound with the grinning scar bawled after me as I barreled out of the clearing and back into the woods. I heard the creatures snapping trees with the same effort it would take to break cocktail sticks behind me. How did I manage to kill one of these crazy buckers? I didn’t stop to ask or find out, keeping the huge killers busy and praying Gypsy was having better luck…

Luck wasn’t the word Gypsy Breeze would have used. She chose a similar sounding word as she glanced out through the doorway.

Together, they’d managed to plant and arm all of her explosives inside the building before I’d made my getaway. They watched as the mob of hellhounds gave chase after me. However, not all of them.

The one remaining was the bitch with the shackled ponies cuffed to her lumbering front leg, panting sharply and fiercely as she stood gazing at the mangled body of the one I’d managed to kill, albeit by accident. This could have been a good fortune as the ponies would all have bounced behind the hellspawn like tin cans on a string if it had followed its group. Instead, it hobbled across the massacred playground to its deceased kin and stared down over it with growls passing its pulsing tongue. The poor, scared captives had no option but to follow along behind her sniveling and whimpering, forced to observe the fury growing in the stationary canine.

Gypsy jumped in shock as her rifle seemingly moved on its own until she discovered Elmwood was slipping it off of her shoulder and taking it.

“What are you doing? That’s mine!”

“You should have brought enough for the whole class, Miss. Breeze,” he murmured smoothly, giving her the first vision of his sleepy second personality, “go do what you came here to do.” He flashed her a grin as he sauntered out of the protection of the shelter and into the quagmire. Gypsy’s attempt to snatch him back with her leg missed and he called out before her magic could drag him back inside. “Oh dear, what happened? I thought I heard a fuss going on out here…”

The bulking top half of the alert animal turned fully while the feet remained planted where she stood in front of her departed ally. Her bold yellow eyes widened as she saw the pony cantering towards her without a bound or chain in sight and she pointed her claw at him, her radar ears still listening to the sounds of her kinfolk chasing the killer on wheels through the brush.

“What Forever Meat doing out of cage?” she demanded hoarsely. The big bitch’s life had flipped the moment she’d come home, from her leader telling her they should not have captured the ponies in her grasp to the bird on the odd machine killing her friend and casual mate before her eyes. Now Elmwood was out of his cage and this was one needle too many in the pincushion of her day.

“Relax, I’m not going anywhere. Just wanted to make sure you were safe. Who are the new ponies?” She turned her head from him for a moment but quickly snapped it back to ensure she did not lose sight of the horse who should not be free.

“Forever Meat will get back in cage or-”

“My terms were simple!” he interrupted in a voice that boomed louder than her bark, only to soften when it quietened her, “hurt or eat nopony else and I would stay for the pack. Who chose to break the rules?” He casually strolled past the bitter pooch at a distance where she could strike him down with ease and yet she didn’t, she was rendered stock-still by the talkative horse. He hopped over the corpse and placed a hoof on it, cocking his eyes crazily. “Who broke them. Was it Brutus?” He tapped the body twice to highlight who he meant.

“Not Brutus,” she uttered croakily, her grief-filled eyes shooting many times from Elm to her spiritless party.

“Coco then? Killer? Caesar?” The pony continued to demand impossibly, as though he was the one with knives on his limbs and arrowheads in his mouth. The answer was not significant, because Elmwood did not have any more interest in who broke the rules. His objective now was to see that he kept the doleful livewire from knowing his liberator was carefully freeing the ponies attached to her.

Gypsy had figured her part in the impromptu plan relatively quickly. Once the eyes were on scar-eyes and away from their victims, she rushed out on silent hooves. She reached the farthest pony in the chain gang and clasped their locks, which caused a squeak from the petrified mare.

“Oh, sweet Celestia, save m-”

“Shh,” a hoof pushed to her lips as they both saw the head of their jailor start to turn.

“Caesar! I knew it, he always wanted to best Rex and take his position,” Elmwood yelled, reacquiring the growling girl’s attention. Gypsy let out a soft huff and turned back to the pony, patting her muzzle to prompt all of them to keep silent. A fresh bobby pin levitated into the padlock and wriggled, taking little effort for the fastening to click open. They carefully removed the bonds with delicacy, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid capture. The mare turned, prepared to run, but Gypsy stopped her. She slid a comforting hoof around her neck and a flash of her horn later, the pair were long gone…

Gunning the Racer through the woodland obstacles and trying to master the handling of the roaring transport while the relentless hellhounds continued to chase my tail was not the ideal conditions for learning how to drive the scooter. I couldn’t rely on speed, my chasers were just as fast and in one hairy second, they proved to be much faster. I cornered tightly around the remains of brickwork and dodged the swiping claw, bursting over a fallen wall and getting out of the range of the attack.

I didn’t have time to speculate on my surrounding but from the rubble, this appeared to have once been a small village which time took back. There was little of the old houses and cottages remaining, but some partitions, roads and the bare bones of structures had survived to this point. Whether they’d last to see another hundred years was in the grasp of nature’s hunger to claim back its land.

This was the hunting ground of my chasers. I was trying to drive a foreign contraption through the routes they knew like the backs of their paws. My chances all rested on becoming proficient with the Red Racer plus employing and firing a pistol with one claw at the same time. One talon steered the handles, the other held my gun out and fired back to ward off the hungry pack.

Bam, Bam, Bam!

Without the ability to aim, I hit nothing, but it added milliseconds to my distance between myself and the leading runner. I pulled the steering urgently around the corner of the last building and jumped along the rocky weed-crippled roads. As I turned a smudge through the street shot forth and one of the drooling snarlers stood in my way. I flung my wings out, banked hard and turned. The back wheel slipped. The Racer dropped onto its side and together we slid into the ankles of the dog, tripping him.

Ignoring the deep graze on my side I pushed me and the scooter upright once more, my wings pounding and propelling us forward in time to miss the next swipe of blades. I lost my pistol in the fall but was still running despite the wet teeth now snapping at my heels. I twisted the bike around again and spotted an alley between some of the carcasses of the last buildings. I scooted for that, pulling the throttle open the whole way.

Another hound gained speed and bounded alongside me, blocked only by the trees whistling shrilly between us. I had seconds before I’d reach the alley, he only needed one for a chance to pounce me and tear me a new breathing hole. I drew out my second pistol, aimed and fired.

Bam, Bam!

It was all that was needed for the black being to lose its footing and spill, rolling into a cluster of trees with a crunch. With no time to celebrate I kept on course and slipped into the alley like an envelope through a mail slot.

The Racer’s screams echoed along the eroded walls around me as we sped through the tight gap, leaping out of the other end with the expectation that several hulking bodies would spill through the gap behind me. I glanced over my shoulder with my pistol raised to fire but there wasn’t a sign of any of the epitomes of hatred.

I flung my wings out to slow myself down and turned, halting briefly but prepared to shoot off again the instant I saw so much as a snout of a hound. Snouts, tails, even claws were nowhere to be seen. There wasn’t the sound of beating paws or growling breaths. There wasn’t even the glint of eyes in the shadows. My chasers had disappeared.

I thought quickly about the possible tactics of the super intelligent monsters. They could have been planning to jump me if I got off of the Red Racer or plotted to kill me with fearful anticipation. They could have hidden where they’d be ready to strike me down with a surprise attack but I was sure that wasn’t it. I considered the implications of why they were no longer chasing me and a shock of lightning spilled through my soul.

“GYPSY!” I thrashed my wings to urge the bipedal device back to life and burst through the ruins once more, speeding back towards the hellhound’s den.

“...Do you remember who convinced Coco not to ruin your chances with Brutus? Me! This guy! And you repay me by stealing ponies? Look at me, I’m not finished!” Elmwood noticed his new friend reappear for the second to last pony in the chain through the corner of his eye. Gypsy had so far managed to free and evacuate the other ponies successfully without capture. There was still a chance their hard work could be outdone as the fraidy-mare nearest the hellhound was growing anxious and looked fit to wail any moment.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll let these ponies go, Roxy. No Excuses, no-”

“Forever Meat is not enough to feed pack!” Roxy flared up, clenching her paws as her rabid eyes drilled down on him. “Forever Meat try but is only one pony. Hellhounds need more and-” She stopped after a step forward. Something felt weird to her and her cunning mind quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together. She shot her eyes down to the cuff, then to the ponies attempting to get free from the last links of the chain. The terrified teenage mare screamed.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN TRICK ROXY, PUNNY PONY?” She foamed at the mouth as she whirled around, stomping towards the group as Gypsy struggled with the lock. The wild wolf pulled up her chained leg and dragged the two ponies out of the sweating guardian’s embrace, forcing the squealing filly to dangle from the metal ring cutting into her leg. The nails on the paw glinted, ready to come down on the failed escapees and cut them to shreds.

Roxy’s yip stuck in her throat, trapped by the rifle used to choke her in the tight grasp of Elmwood’s legs. She stumbled back and flung her body about in an attempt to throw the pony from her back. He held on like a limpet, his teeth clamped shut and hind legs squeezing her ribs to keep himself locked to her. The blond mare tripped away.

“Why aren’t you shooting her?”

“Couple of bullets- Ugh! -Do nothing-agh! -To them!”

The other ponies fell to the ground but were not clear of the fight yet. They were titubated and dragged across the gluey dirt as Roxy swung around. Her ankle caught the body on the ground and she tumbled back, landing on her assailant which winded him. In the moment’s reprieve, Gypsy got the first lock disengaged and pulled the wounded stallion out of the chains. She dove for the screeching mare and ducked as huge hind paws kicked over the top of her head.

Elmwood rasped as he grappled with the tormented titan trying to wrestle out of his grasp. In the distance, the sound of buzzing was coming and growing the closer it got. He still didn’t know exactly what it was but he knew he had to hold on until it arrived…

“Got it,” cried out Gypsy over the earsplitting sobs of the rabbity pony. The last clip came apart and the dark amethyst mare dragged her back, waving the other one to her hurriedly. While they came, she looked to the crushed horse under the bulk of the canine. “I’ll be back for you!” The freed ponied held her and all three popped out of the area in a sparkle of magic.

Elmwood made the mistake of slackening his hold. Roxy pushed on her back muscles and slammed her forepaws into the grime, thrusting herself up and out of his chokehold. He rolled before her claws could damage his graffitied face any further and sprung to his hooves with a mad dash for cover. There were clangs and crashes behind him as Roxy coughed her lungs back into working order and something hard, fast and cold smacked his ankles out from under him, definitely doing damage.

He cried out in anguish and fell inches from the watchtower, rolling onto his back to see one of his legs twisted in an angle that did not look healthy. Roxy had regathered her long line of manacles and was twirling them above her head, tottering towards him as the droning kept growing.

“FOREVER MEAT THINK HE CAN ESCAPE?” She howled, her chest heaving with a violent storm in the cavity, “NOW YOU DIE!” She straightened up her back as the agitated noise was at its loudest and Elmwood closed his eyes, accepting the finality of this outcome with calm dignity...

“NOW YOU DIE!” I heard the shout from the gigantic silhouette body I could see through the trees and I put the hammer down as fast as Red could take me. I beat my wings harder, leaning back, tugging the front wheel up off of the ground. As I kept on course, the back wheel of the Red Racer hit a large sheet of rusted iron discarded on the outskirt of the lair and launched. We flew out of the shelter of the woodland, twisting in the air with the grace of a striking lion.

The hound swinging the metal rotor about her head turned to look to me and Racer as we glided through the air towards her head. She had no time to move, the weight struck her between the ears as she tried and she was tossed back: a rag doll filled with bricks slammed across the unforgiving mud.

Somehow, I caught the air perfectly with my wings and angled the heavy scooter back onto both wheels when we hit the slimy earth, drifting to a stop by the offensive hanging frame. I took a moment to swallow my lungs back down and realizing what I’d just done, looking hurried to the dog I’d collided within mid-air. It wasn’t moving a muscle and based on what just hit it, I imagined it would stay that way for a long time to come. I let out a gleeful squawk, fist pumping the air.

“Did ye see that? Did ye see-” The usually colorless coated pony was a revelation to my eyes. He was filthy, bleeding and severely injured but I’d have recognized his panda eyes even if the rest of him had been smeared in coagulated blood.

“ELMWOOD!” I cried out, leaping from my faithful magenta mustang and running towards him. I got as far as the slide before he lifted his rifle and aimed it square at me, forcing me to stop. I lifted my claws to surrender. “Oi, it’s me, laddie, dunnae shoot. I thought ye were dead, I saw-”

“Shut up, will you?” He spat painfully and cocked his head, listening to something with his hoof tracing the ground. I obeyed his command regardless of the embitterment I felt being reunited with the stallion who saved my life only to be threatened at the point of a gun. It was only after freezing that I felt it.

The floor beneath my feet vibrated as though I was still on the Red Racer. I looked down, seeing the smaller stones and pebbles defying the sticky ground by rumbling and rolling to the vibrations. The comprehension of what was coming arrived too late to save me from the situation.

“Fly!” Screamed Elm, “fly, fl-“

Booming through the ground came several thick shapes slashing claws through the earth like scissors through a dress. The floor fractured as my feet hovered away from it while my wings attempted to pick me up and away from it. Hatching open, it propelled the hellspawn my way.
Pain lanced from the bottom of my spine and upwards indicating that something had gone seriously wrong. I was jerked backward and pulled into the grasp of a hound as its feet smashed into the ground.

A high pitched siren filled the air over the roars and howls of the triumphant beasts. As my mind burst back into the situation I became conscious that the sound I was hearing was me screaming. From the way that my jacket hung I knew it had been torn from behind like paper and I could feel heat seeping from it culminating in a drip from the end of my tail. I was hanging from the floor in the grasps of a hellhound, holding me by my wing braces with the tight straps cutting into my upper legs.

I bravely turned my head. My executioner would be Smiler, his fixed grin looking positively gleeful at having snatched this bluebird from the air. He panted strongly with humid clouds of noxious mist swirling from his tongue, a low chuckle leaving his chest. Then he thrust me up for his pack to see.

“YOU WANT MORE THAN FOREVER MEAT?” As he yelled to his hungry comrades I hurriedly scanned around, looking for my fallen friend. If he was still here, I couldn’t see him. Run Elm, I thought, run far away. “TONIGHT WE FEAST ON BIG BIRD!” Big bird? Was he calling me fat? The mind or my mind at least became quite arrogant when faced with certain death. With the amount still alive and baying for my blood on their tongues, I would be flying up to meet my Pa in less than a few seconds but, as stated before, I was a MacRural. We didn’t give up our lives without a fight. I curled my hind leg.

“HELLHOUND ARE STR-AGGGH!” I silenced Smiler with my hind foot in an area that distinctly felt like his crotch at the same point my claws pulled the emergency release on my braces. He dropped back as I fell gracelessly onto my chest, the unseen wound scrambling the communication from my brain to my limbs. His group saw that their most hated enemy was free and in that second initiated a fresh attack.

“If you are going to fight, then fight with every single bit of your being that you have. Even your beak. Especially your beak...”

My beak clashed with the jaws of the first demon as it thumped onto me with claws scrapping at the floor and teeth cutting at my cheeks. Holding his bite away from engulfing my whole head I plunged my talons deep into his chest and felt the lifeforce ooze between them. Not stopping to consider the implications of another soul to my growing collection, I pushed him up and wrapped my claws around his ribs, tearing his lungs to create a grotesque shield to fend off my foes. However, I had no field of vision other than left or right. My screen still had enough life left in him to continue to try and wrestle with me.

I swung him one way then the other as I tried in vain to keep the rest of the back from snapping at me. A claw sliced at my shoulder, another glanced from my hindquarters. I was going to be done in moments. Deciding my dog-defense was a hindrance more than an advantage, I twirled to bat away the closest fighters then released him through the air towards the group at the back, feeling the weight and ligaments leave my hooks with a wet rip. The few the carcass bowled into toppled backward and I twisted to make my escape.

Smiler was back on his feet and in my way, grinning furiously at me. His teeth bared, his claws stretched, his chest pumping. His eyes told me all the horrible things he planned to do to me and I struggled back as the rest of his band found their paws. He took a step forward and I closed my eyes.

BAM!

Smilers head blew into two halves of a smashed tomato, his weight instantly dropping him to his knees. His huge headless torso swayed to an unheard metronome before the mass of timber had no energy left to stay upright and hit the ground with a thick slap. Gyspy stood behind him inside the wreck of the schoolhouse. She lowered the still smoking double-barrel and waved her hoof to me urgently.

“RUN TO ME, COME ON!”

Seeing her alive and kicking bestowed new strength in my damaged body and my sore limbs began to move. I ignored the urge to limp as my back and sides ripped pain through my body. I stumbled and found myself falling, but determination put another foot in the way and pushed me back up, my wings trying to beat. I could hear the feet behind me drumming along the earth and knew I didn’t have time to buck about. I flung clumsily into the air and forced my limbs to keep me airborne regardless of the fire scorching through my core. All I had to do was speed towards Gypsy and everything would be alright.

A claw bashed me to the floor at the final hurdle. I bounced off of the bloody, spurting mess of Smiler’s heap and was rolled to see the hellhound that had swatted me out of the air coming down on me.

Pop, Pop, Pop!

Bullets bounced into it as I screamed in terror and anguish. Glittering supernal ropes wrapped around me and I was drawn rapidly from the bellowing canine from Tartarus. I stopped between Gypsy and Elmwood in the shelter of the school, the stallion still firing an assault on the flocking monstrous crowd. The ribboned mare helped my back to my feet, no time to look at my blistering injuries as she heaved me back into the shell of the building. I began to panic, looking around at the closed in walls.

“Fall back, Elmwood!” she commanded, the stallion lowering the trigger from his mouth and feebly hopping backward as well. We kept crawling as the light from the front doorway was extinguished by the collection of boiling mad brutes slinking in to corner us.

“Oh buck, oh buck, we’re dead…” I sobbed as my scratched backside hit the wall, “G-Gypsy, Elmwood… I-”

“NOW YOU DIE, STUPID THINGS!” interrupted a furious mutated wolf leading the pack into the closed space. I whimpered. Gypsy growled. Elmwood laughed.

“Stupid? I thought you idiots were meant to be smart!”

“DON’T TAUNT HELLHOUND, FOREVER MEAT!” Snarled the leader as I looked incredulously at the besmirched pony struggling to stand with a sneer plastered all over his face. I’d still not learned then what his dead eyes truly meant. I felt a shuffle and saw Gypsy was moving something from her bag into her mouth.

“Okay, okay, okay. It’s just …. It’s so funny,” he dropped and rolled onto his back, laughing his arse off.

“WHAT FUNNY?” demanded the monster, punching the ground so hard that it quaked under all of us. Deadwood cuddled his tummy, looking back to the horde with a long sigh.

“The look on your faces when we blow them off of your skulls.” He ended the conversation with a simple smile as the barbarians finally began to look around at the tiny red dots flashing all around them.

By the time the first one rose its paw to point out the mines, Gypsy had grabbed both of us.

When they let out a horrified cry, her horn was ignited and our bodies were wrapped in light. She bit down and spat out the detonator from her teeth.

The red lights turned yellow and sparks, heat, and death exploded from their casings all around the room. Gypsy’s spell fired on all cylinders and we disappeared as the trap for the hellhounds blew up. No matter how quickly they turned, they were no match for the combusting schoolhouse as the bell rang for the last time on the obliterated class of freaks.

Stable T-Thirty, Seventh Day of the Seven-Day-Rule…

After what seemed like an eternity in Tartarus’ most rainbow-centric section, I collapsed onto the firm ground. I felt achy, sick and my dizzy eyes were still spinning in their sockets. Incredibly, all sensations only lasted a few seconds before a new beam of magic rose me to my paws and talons while a feather brush brandished by the pony with the headset called Bright Start. All illness had evaporated by the time he began speaking to me.

“There, you’re ready for your performance. Just got to wait for the nopony on stage to be seen off.” He wrapped a foreleg over my shoulder and gave a coy, hushed giggle, “come on, you’ll find this utterly hilarious, no doubt.”

A song. I could hear a singing voice and music in the dim as he guided me through the blackness past ropes, huge dark curtains, and thin framed backdrops. Fearful that he might teleport me again if I did not follow him, I kept to his pace until we turned a corner and found the light once more coming from the stage into the wings. Bright crept us towards it as the song abruptly ended and applause rang out from the invisible crowd listening. We stepped into the brightness while hidden from view and witnessed a pale blue stallion with a faint red mane hugging his microphone at the front of the stage. We could not see who quietened the audience nor who was the first to speak, but it was unmistakeably Hot Shot from the tone alone.

“Mr. Humane, that was the most inhumane thing you have ever done in your life. You butchered that song!” I saw Mr. Humane flinch as though he’d just been fired at by a rocket launcher. Another feminine voice picked up where Shot left off.

“The song choice was awful, your voice wasn’t in it tonight, Humane. Sorry.” And finally…

“I think you should feel sorry about what you did tonight. You’ve taken up too much of our time already, it’s a no from me…”

“...And a no from me…”

“That makes three,” finished Hot Shot, in agreement with his mysterious other voices. “Goodbye, Mr. Humane. Do not come here again, I hear ‘The Magnolia’ are looking for ponies who are more your caliber.” The crowd, who had a one moment been in support of the lonely stallion now jeered and laughed at him as the judges’ words brutally destroyed him. The stallion whimpered, wailed and ran from the limelight with tears splashing me across the face as he escaped past to disappear into the gloom where no more words could hurt him.

“It’s you!” Bright hissed as he was done guffawing at the poor pony’s misfortune. I did not move. I did not want that to be my fate, what kind of egging-crazy griffon did they take me for? The pony gave an impatient sigh. His hoof slipped over my wing and a flash of gut-wrenching, world-spinning movement sucked me out of my safe space into the bright lights and the praising, stomping party in their seats. Bright Start removed himself with another crackle.

“There she is, our very own Guardian Griffon!” applauded Hot Shot, starting a standing ovation among his fellow judges and the silhouettes of the throng. Every seat was filled, every eye focused on me. I hadn’t even opened my mouth and already they loved me and I had no idea how I could please them with my cat scratched voice. The noise deafened me and shook my paws.

“So, what is the song you’re going to sing for us, Double G?” I recognized the other speaker as Mellow Melody to the whine of my inner monologue. I was going to humiliate myself in front of the Stable’s most admired singer. I didn’t have a song, I didn’t know how to answer, my beak did not want to work anymore.

“Oh,” Shot clopped his hoof on the desk, “do you know how to sing that new song, what’s it called? ‘I Understand Love Now,‘ by Stardust?”

“Oh,” gasped the mare on his other side with heavily framed glasses and an exuberant mane-style, “I love that one! Tell us you know it?” They all stared at me for a silent eternity and my eyes looked over every face for a savior. There was no Mole rushing to my side now nor Gypsy blasting a safe passage through this hell. There was just me, a microphone and an amulet that I did not know how to work. Right now it just felt like a dead albatross around my neck. The crowd started calling encouragements to me and Shot chuckled wholesomely.

“She’s saving her voice for the song! Quite right, too!” He waved to the group of musicians in the corner of the stage who I’d only just realized were accompanying me and gave me a nod, “go on, sweetheart, sing your heart out!” The band nodded graciously and an orb of light levitated from one horn, the tune instantly starting to play loud enough to fill the auditorium.

This was it. This was the moment I would lose all respect in the Stable. I trembled, trying to let the music of what was a pretty song soothe me as I felt tears swim down my cheeks.

I was going to do it again.

I was going to ruin the night with a song.

Four Years Ago…

It had been a whole year since the rescue of the ponies from the clutches of the hellhounds and my wounds had been stitched, patched and healed with a few extra scars to my collection. I’d been fortuitous enough that the rake of claws along my back had not damaged anything permanent other than feathers, fur, and skin. Elmwood’s smashed leg took a surprisingly short time to repair despite breaks in three places and Gypsy had only received minor injuries that didn’t need a lot of attention.

Sadly, the most hurt stallion emancipated from the clutches of the enhanced canines was too severely hurt and within a month had passed away. Days later, a mare from the extricated group became unstable. She had been attempted to be comforted by the Helping Hoofians and shown that she was in a safe and secluded place now, but she couldn’t recover from the stress and depression the memories brought her. Too traumatized by the experiences from the dog bloodbath, she chose to put a pistol to her temple and pull the trigger. Gypsy and her ponies ensured that they received a proper burial while Elm and I could not join them. Together we believed that death was part and parcel of this existence as it was now and we used the time to enforce our defenses and scavenge for supplies.

As the year ticked along, a peace formed over our little settlement and the rest of its inhabitants. The mad world outside our little bubble largely ignored us and we did not attempt to aggravate it either. It seemed like everything would be perfectly fine for us from that moment on, but of course, nothing ever stays that way for very long and the one to ruin our safety and security would be me.

Something dwelled on my mind ever since Gypsy teleported Herself, Elm and I into the safety of our village. We’d left something behind that I saw as vitally important to our victory and future. The Red Racer.

The last time I’d seen her was after I’d jumped from it to run to Elm, into the trap the Hellhounds had set for me. I was convinced it would have survived the blast and even if it hadn’t then there were parts of it that would still be important to us. I tried to convince Gypsy of this, however, she showed no interest.

“It was just a Scooter, Feathers,” she’d remind me everytime I brought it up, “lives are more important now. Forget the bucking thing and move on.” I couldn’t.

Maybe it was because it took my jealous mind away from the blossoming romance I saw Breeze and Wood fall head over hooves into as she played nurse to his rapidly healing leg, then scavenging partner, before admitting themselves to be full-time lovers. Having something else to keep my mind from producing a lewd slideshow whenever they were near and wishing Gypsy’s attention still came to me was like a drug I did not want to let go. Ultimately, the drive to go seek it consumed me.

I couldn’t just race away and find the Red Racer alone nor could I expect it to be found without a bit of damage, so I had to ask for the Mechanic’s help. Ottawa took a lot of convincing as he often asked me what Gypsy had said first and then agreed with her. Finally, I realized that I did have a bargaining chip, something he had asked for many times before. I found him one day in early fall polishing his leg and took a seat beside him.

“Good morning, griffon,” he murmured, not looking up from his shiny detached appendage. “Ottawa still not helping griffon’s suicidal plans.” He looked to me and saw me smiling slyly as I looked down at our extra fortified community. “Griffon plotting. Ottawa does not like it when griffon plots.” He returned to his work.

“You wanted to know how I broke my wings, laddie?” I asked him with a casual tug of a wing to preen it. His eyes lit up and his prosthetic leg clanked onto the wet grass.

The only sound in the clearing was that of the crunch of feet, hooves, and wheels as I rolled the red carriage out of the woods with the bison. I remembered the path from my pursuit a year before then and the surrounding area had not changed. It was the inner circle which had once been the deformed and sickening schoolhouse that was the most changed now.

The blast had demolished the entire building with only a floor of bricks, tiles and blistered timber remaining across the whole space. The smell was almost gone, an earthy scent taking its place. Between the smashed and fragmented masonry and mortar lay the burnt, vulture-picked bones of the beings that had once been monsters. Seeing proof of their deaths brought satisfaction and relief to me after trepidation during the trip of potentially discovering them still prowling around the crater.

“This is it, laddie,” I called back to Ottawa as he held himself by the circumference of the pit, “there are nay signs of life, we’re safe.” This prompted him to walk over and together we started to scout around the sight, leaving the rebuilt sidecar that I had pushed all the way here beside a tree. We’ve brought it to fix it to the rest of the Racer if it was salvageable and drivable still. I first moved towards the spot I initially believed I’d left it, basing my presumptions on a few twisted climbing bars and the shapes of the bushes. If it was going to be there, it appeared it might have been buried. I started digging.

“Griffon does realize somepony may have found and taken Red Racer for themselves?” The Mechanic asked across the yard as he nudged through the debris of his own. I stopped and thought about it, lifting my head with a click of the tongue.

“I have a feeling it is here, big fella. It is my extrasensory wee griffon sense.”

“That does not exist,” grumbled the killjoy bison while my talons blindly swept away the mess.

“Maybe but-AGGH!“ I yelped out fearfully and flapped away from the sight I had just looked back down at. A skull of a wolf split in two, a deep scratch on its cheekbone gazed forever walleyed back up at me. After the initial shock, I gasped in relief and laughed myself back down on to the pile of refuse.

“Are you okay Griffon?”

“Aye, just being a wee daftie and scarin’ me-“ I stopped, staring forward, “hold on a tick…” Squinting at the set of trees in front of me, I got up from the hole I’d been digging and slowly approached the crimson bulge I saw in the bushes.

“Is that…?” I bounced up, flying over the bump covered in vines and weeds. Collecting them in my claws, I thrust myself up with my wings and ripped the majority away in one large clump. There was an exuberant cry from me as I uncovered the red body beneath it.

“Ottawa! We’ve found her, lad!”

I sang as loudly, proudly and defiantly as my old Pa had taught me to. It was nightfall when we returned to Helping Hooves, our ride revving between my thighs and Ottawa sat in the repaired sidecar. We’d been fortunate, she was rusted and needed some tender care but she still worked. The front headbeam lit up the main door to the settlement and a figure stood there waiting furiously for us. I was on a triumphant high and not even the face of thunder Gypsy wore like a parent seeing their children creep home after midnight could not bring me down.

“Taa daah!” I spread my wings and arms, rolling us to a halt before her as she stood in the main gate. “Told you I could do it, lassie!”

“It was never a question of whether or not you could, Crow. It was whether you should,” she gestured out to the dark space of the valleys we’d rumbled out from, “what you’ve both done today may have jeopardized us all.”

“I am sorry, Gypsy,” Ottawa responded ruefully hanging his head but I waved my claw to hush him, smirking to the mare.

“We weren’t followed. The Racer is too fast. Sure, she’s a little rusty and needs some wee lovin’ but we’re safer wi’ her than wi’out.” I leaned in with a raise of an eyebrow, stroking my feathery fringe back. “All we found was bones and dust. Yer wee plan worked, hen. We dunnae have to fear hellhounds ever again.” Her sad blazing moon eyes watched me boost myself up on my red trophy and prepare for the gate to open. She shook her head and stepped out of the way.

“I hope you don’t regret this, Crow,” she uttered, before waving to the pony up on the watchtower to open the gates.

“It’s Crow! And she brought home the Red Racer!” Foals had gathered on the other side of the gate to greet us in, racing excitedly alongside us as we trundled home.

“See, Ottawa? We did a stoatin’ thing! They love us!” I looked to him eagerly. His face of concern never lessened.

I spent the night laughing with friends, singing the bawdiest songs I could recall the words to and drinking as much liquor as I could get my claws on. Everypony bar Gypsy was happy that the Red Racer had come home. It would be our symbol of hope and resilience in the face of the harsh wastelands.

The festivities ended late and I chose to find my bed much later, after rubbing beak to nose with a cute little thing whose name also escaped me. Faces, smiles, songs, and stories would stay with me but names became lost to time after a while. I would forget a lot and regret a lot in the events that followed.

I was still crooning tunelessly as I stumbled my way to where I usually lay my head, a half bottle of whiskey still in my claws. It slipped the moment I heard the first scream, crashing on a rock, shattering across my feet.

Not caring for the cuts the glass tore into my hind paws, I leaped and zipped towards the terrified squeals of foals in danger with my body sobered by the emergency in my beloved camp. I turned past a shack to see the main entrance was still closed, but daunting mounds of dirt had been dug up before it. From those mini mountains, a trail of destruction and slaughter led through to one of the settlement huts which now burned angrily. Many ponies were already there trying to stop the fire and others were hurrying over. Knowing this had been the home of my little foal friends, I hurried to it as well, only to be redirected by another high-pitched shout.

I turned and saw Gypsy and Elmwood leading a group towards the greenhouse. Through the windows, I could see a terrible mass of blackness with a smudge of blue fighting and squirming against it. The mounds, the bodies, and the shape told me what had found us. My heart plummeted as I saw what was coming to pass.

I zoomed over the heads of the ponies hurrying to the scene and spun past Elm as he looked up at me.

“Gun!” I cried and caught the shotgun he tossed up to me. Faster than all the others, I dashed ahead with all the speed I could muster and prayed to every deity I could think of that I was not too late.

The hellhound held the whinnying, crying coal and cobalt foal by the head in front of her when I burst through the greenhouse and landed in front of it. My gun instantly cocked and pointed but the canine guarded itself with the child, knowing full well I wouldn’t shoot the foal to get to it. It rushed forward and stopped me in my tracks, barking like a rabid pooch.

“SO STUPID, GRIFFON! SINGING SONGS SO LOUD! HELLHOUND COULD HAVE FOUND CAMP IN THEIR SLEEP!” I felt my moral balance shift as I understood her snarls. I had sung from the graveyard of her past home to the walls of mine. I’d danced and trilled and been merry, not understanding that Gypsy was right, I’d brought this upon us. Foolishly I thought I could still make it right.

I had a split second to look it in the eyes and it was enough for the vision to stay with me for the rest of my life.

A scar ran along its cheek from the corner of its mouth creating the same eerie smile as the leader of old. But the eyes, the snout, the whole not split ear was all different. This was the female I’d hit with the bike who I had believed I’d killed saving Elmwood. She had made herself look like her deceased alpha and that made the sight of her all the more terrifying for me. I kept my gun up and aimed, squawking over the wails of the foal.

“Let the wee lad go! He’s done nothing to ye!”

“Help!” Screamed the boy, “I don’t want to die!”

“ROXY NOT MONSTER!” The intimidating bitch sprayed outraged saliva from gnashing teeth as it flung the child around in the air like a rag doll. “STUPID GRIFFON AND PONIES DESTROYED HOME AND FAMILY! YOU THE MONSTERS!”

“Help, help! She’s going to eat me!”

“Roxy,” Elm slid between us with his forehooves up as a mediator, “it’s me, Forever Meat. I’ll come with you, he’s just a foal, a pup, see?” The ponies behind filtered in with weapons trained on her, sealing off her escape. Other ponies were hurrying around the other side to try and get to a place where they could take her down without hurting the foal. “It doesn’t have to go down like this. Put the pup down an-“

There was a roar and a scream outside, followed by gunshots. Something black and fast ripped past the windows, scattering the settlers everywhere. Roxy had friends. I flew up to the ceiling in a flash and prepared to fire between her ears.

“Drop the foal and call your pack off!” She lifted her head to me, staring me dead in the eyes and gave me a yellow grin, heavy snorts leaving her fat snout. “I said drop them!”

“IT JUST SO FUNNY!” She barked, bursting into raucous laughter. I frowned furiously and clenched my claw on the trigger, but then seized up in horror. I had seen what the hellhound found so mirthful.

She raised her free paw which clutched a remote control and a glance around the room revealed scarlet blinking lights all over. She’d caught us with our own trap.

“OUT! Get out! GET OUT!” I shrieked, dropping to push Gypsy and Elm away hurriedly. The crazy devil girl split her sides with amusement before she cried out her final chilling message, the foal still stuck in her paws.

“YOUR DEATHS WILL SET ROXY FREE!”

I spun as the button was pressed in one last-ditch attempt to save the foal. As I heard the remote click and beep, something hastily grabbed my wings. I saw the light, felt the heat, smelled my feathers start to smolder…

Then I hit cold, wet grass. The erupting bang that had been all around me a millisecond ago was now a horrifying ball of fire and destruction in front of me. The warmth found us again abruptly, not comforting or friendly but brutal and torturous. At first, I thought I had died and was witnessing my body burn from far away, but then I heard Gypsy screaming and Elm attempting to comfort and sedate her. I realized she’d saved us once more to the detriment of her heart for all the friends and ponies she could not protect.

She’d teleported us to the top of the valley. Against my back was the rock we’d visited the week I first arrived. I’d been asked then to protect my new home. I’d failed it. I’d killed our friends. I’d killed the foals...

Ottawa. Had the buffalo survived? I hadn't seen him since getting off of the Racer. I looked urgently at the chaotic sight below and saw his workshop on fire, one black demon parading around it. I lost a new cry for my friend, certain his end had come at the claws of my talons as well.

Gypsy started to run back to the inferno as I sat dazed and mortified at the distressing view from the hillside. Elmwood was after her like a bolt and caught her speedily, dragging her back up to me punching and wailing for her people.

“We’ve got to go! We’re not safe! CROW!” He yelled at me. I blinked and hoped I’d woken up from some evil nightmare at the angry shout of my name, only to find my home was still burning and I was still to blame. Elmwood heaved me to my feet.
“She’s going into shock! We need to get her to safety now!”

Thrusting me forward with a few more pushes, I finally helped grab her and pull the suddenly heavy mare away as she started to go unnervingly quiet. We ran until we found a place to lie low, warm Gypsy and stay safe. Behind us, the survivors screamed and the hellhounds roared for their victory, and Helping Hooves settlement became a bloody red stain on the cloudy night sky...

Stable T-Thirty, Seventh Day of the Seven-Day-Rule…

My heart raced in my chest. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t sing this song, I just couldn’t…

I could.

It started at my chest like a warm, comforting sensation of being hugged and heartened while the musical introduction played. A gentle stroke of an imaginary hoof released the cloudy haze in my mind over the first lyrics and the strangling grip on my throat released like a kind splash of smooth whiskey over my vocal cords. What had been fear of the first duff note to leave my beak became surprising confidence in my ability to sing. I could do it, couldn’t I?

I could feel the tune rising to the point that I would open my lungs where the amulet sat. It was no longer a weight of impending doom but a lucky charm that would carry my melody to victory. The moment was here, I closed my eyes and clasped the microphone with my beak open. I felt the amulet radiate and from it, the song poured out.

I looked around my audience when I heard the yell. It was not an angry or disgusted cry like all the other times that I’d raised my voice. It was an approbation. They loved the song and furthermore, they loved me, so much so that they were willing to leap to their hooves and stomp them with their neighs of approval raising the roof. Even two of my judges, Hot Shot and the bespectacled mare, were up and hailing my efforts while Melody stared at me as if I’d just taken a dump on the stage.

My heart launched when I saw Gypsy in the center of a row, her ribbons glittering from the flashing lights. Her astonishment at my voice was evident in her eyes. How far she’d seen me come since the day we lost Helping Hooves. I shed a new tear as I remembered that foal who never stopped smiling or trusting me. I realized that this song had to be sung for him and now that I could do it justice I was going to make it the best tribute he deserved. I lifted the microphone as I spread and flapped my wings, levitating over the stage.

There beside her was Mole, hooves clasped together and green hearts shining. Her mouth was fixed in the most captivated expression I’d ever seen her hold and her tail was dancing so quickly that it looked like it was one thick fluffy brown cushion behind her. I recalled all the times she had set my heart soaring and healed me with a single kiss in this past week. This song was for her also. For my little Heart of Gold.

When the chorus rose again the audience joined me, hundreds of voices united as one by a song. My song.

I caught sight of Midnight Dreamer. Her expression was that of devastation as she saw me submit myself to the stage of her rival but how could she know how this felt? I had been a griffon with a voice so bad it had ruined and slaughtered many lives in one fateful night. With a piece of jewelry, Mr. Shot had taken that responsibility and fault away from me and given me a chance to redeem myself. He had done more for me now than she had and I believed then I’d be ever grateful and in debt to him.

She shook her head and turned to leave but no remorse or disappointment came to me. My song never stopped and I never stopped singing, I had what I needed now and my friends were my voice and my amulet.

I could feel the song and I felt as though it felt me. As I sang, the amulet sang to me. Not with me or for me but to me convincing me I could keep going forever, I could do show after show without break and I would never lose this ability as long as I held on to her. She was my power now and my strength. My tiny trinket would never ask for anything in return.

The music played the crescendo as I finished my part in this historical moment. A sigh of bliss slipped through my bill as I landed on the stage and replaced the microphone stepping away from it. A weight had been lifted from my body, the milestone that had lodged itself in my journey through life had been passed and I could feel free and innocent once more. I was floating in a sea of euphoria and there was nothing that could bring me down.

Hot Shot led the applause as I smiled jubilantly at my crowd and took a low bow. There were cheers, whistles, and chants of my sobriquet all for the love of my performance before the band had even finished playing. I stood up and looked over everypony, nearly missing the vibration on my leg as my PipBuck flashed up an alert.

Bucky poked his head out from the corner of my screen and glanced at the congratulatory message.

“Hey, you did it,” he chirped, “but at what cost?”

I didn’t dwell on the stupid green elf’s words nor did I have time to. All three judges were on their hooves and encouraging silence from the crowd before they faced me with poker faces.

“We’ll take the vote straight away, Guardian Griffon, we have a lot of ponies left to see and time is ticking,” Hot Shot advised me quickly. “Mellow Melody; is it a yes from you or a no?”

Melody studied me for an uncomfortably long time, her eyes scrutinizing every little detail of my existence. I puffed up my chest and ruffled my feathers, smiling. She had to say yes, there was no way she could refuse such a performance, could she?

Her mouth opened, she released her final verdict and the audience dropped a shocked gasp.

Footnote: Quest completed - Seven Day Rule
Quest perk - Autotune the Blues - Enchanted items are 10% more effective

Level Up!
New Perk: Dogs of War - Your fancy footwork and agile flying keep you out of harm’s way. Opponents suffer a -5 to combat skills when attacking you.

Author's Notes:

Want to discuss the story? Follow me to the Scoundrel’s Settlement on Discord...

Song for this chapter; Annie Lennox - Little Bird

credit to Brainiac for the art
This is the last chapter brought together due to rewrites, thus meaning some of the timings I suggested a while ago have now moved on. My plan to have something impactful happen in chapter 20 might be moved to a different chapter. I have a plan, and I hope I haven't cooked all the eggs in my basket already...

This landed at almost 28k words, a bit of a big feat for me really! FO:ES will be pausing as I concentrate on 'Luna Switched' with Synesisbassist now, but don't worry, it will be back soon enough...

Thank you to Blazie, for editing this in his free time. Aannnnd not forgetting Doomande, thanks for picking the nits <3.

If this is when you stop reading, goodbye and safe travels.

If you're still strapped in for the ride, see you in the next chapter.

All good things,
Duskhoof