“What’s with you today, dude?”

“What?” Gallus looked up into the bright blue eyes of his dragon companion. “Sorry, what happened?”

“You, you happened, you featherbrain,” she said, putting her hands on her hips as she looked around at the archery competition, the second-to-last event before the final Golden Melee. “You’ve been weird ever since Griswald pulled you from our fun. And you seriously missed out on some crazy fun between Gemma and me the night before last. She let me do all sorts of wild things that don’t compare with last night…”

“I… was occupied,” Gallus muttered, staring off at twenty-odd remaining competitors. “Queen Giselle… and after… let’s just say I have a lot to think about.”

“That’s great,” Smolder said, poking him in the chest. “But unless you want to be breeding stock for your precious queen, I think you should get your head in the game. This isn’t the time for deep thought. This is the time to crush your foes!”

Gallus smirked at her, leaning back against the cool stone wall in his sleek black archery uniform. “That’s such a dragon thing to say.”

Smolder snorted a small bolt of flame out of her nostrils. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Unless…”

Gallus suddenly found Smolder right up in his face, studying him from top to bottom.

“Hey, back off!” Gallus snapped, shoving her away.

“Unless you’re considering actually giving Giselle what she wants!” Smolder cried, her eyes wide and a disbelieving grin on her snout. “I can’t believe it, that’s it, isn’t it? What happened to you the other night?”

“It’s private!” Gallus snapped as he leapt to his paws and grabbed his bow and quiver. “Don’t worry about it! I’m not! My head’s too much in the game!”

Smolder didn’t look convinced as he jogged past her to take his place on the standby archery line. He made a show of adjusting his bow behind a lithe griffon wearing an armband with the crest of the House of the Stormstruck Mountain. It seemed familiar for some reason, but couldn’t place how he knew the symbol. His escape from Smolder turned out to be good timing, since two whistles blew at almost the same time, and two griffons stepped off the shooting line.

Gallus watched the two griffons. One had a bright red armband, while the other’s armband was dark orange. They both nodded at him as they passed, but the new Red didn’t look upset in the slightest that he would have to give up his maleness tonight.

“I tell you, buddy,” said one of the griffons—the one with the red armband—a handsome male in his early forties. “I just wanted to see how far I could get before I ended up Red. If I made it to the Gold Melee, I was gonna go Green anyway.”

“No kidding. I’m pretty much done anyway. Going to go take a shower before I go Green. I can already hear the whispers in the back of my head. I can’t wait to actually feel the changes! Maybe I’ll be lucky and the words will just come to…”

Their conversation faded in the sound of the coliseum as they walked away. Faded from all but Gallus’s head. He stumbled a little when he was called to step up to the primary line queue, the words of the two male griffons running through his head over and over again, mixed with the words of Giselle and Gerie.

He’d grown up an orphan, without clan or family. And back during his childhood, a griffon had to be tough to survive on the streets of Griffonstone. Today, things were better. Things were different. But now, he had to wonder. Had he ever wanted something else out of life? Is that why he was so drawn to griffons like Giselle, Gemma and Gerie? Because they represented something that—

“Hey, you in there?” shouted a female griffon in a judge uniform as she landed beside him. “I told you to take your position on the shooting line three times already!”

“Sorry!” Gallus sputtered as he quickly slung his quiver into the correct position. “I’m ready.”

“Nice of you to join us,” the judge said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Take position eight and fire when ready.”

Gallus nodded and stepped up to the marked position. He’d chosen the composite bow today, because it was something he’d been practicing on and off since he’d entered the School of Friendship, usually with Ocellus or Silverstream. Since only creatures with claws or other similar appendages could use it—unless you counted magic—he’d originally done it just to make himself look good. Eventually, it had turned into a fun way to blow off steam. At least until they’d all found… other ways to do that.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally shutting out everything around him. The shouts of the crowd were banished. The twangs of the various bows beside him were erased. The impact of the arrows against the hexagonal targets became nothing. Ironically, it had been Professor Fluttershy who’d taught him the proper calmness technique to get him to a point where he managed to compete for a place in the Equestrian Games one year. He hadn’t made the cut, but he’d gotten close. He’d always been proud of that. The best part was it wasn’t too hard to slip back into that quiet place again when he needed to.

He opened his eyes and slotted an arrow with a practiced motion. Then, he sighted on his target and drew back the arrow as he took another deep breath. Finally, he released the string and let the arrow fly.

Gallus watched in satisfaction as the arrow flew straight and true, slamming dead center in the target he shared within positions seven and nine. He heard a cheer go up, but he didn’t let it go to his head. He stayed in the moment and slotted the next arrow. He sighted as position nine fired, only to land just a few inches shy of the gold ring. He drew back—and froze as a crack sounded through the arena.

He dropped the bow to his side and gaped. An arrow had actually split his own arrow in two. And it had come from position seven.

Gallus turned to his right, only to take a step backward as an all-too-familiar face leered at him from just a few feet away. He’d been so lost in his head he hadn’t even bothered to see who his fellow competitors were, only their Houses. That… that had been a terrible mistake.

“Hello, Gallus.”

“Grazin!” Gallus spat, his eyes narrowing while his hackles rose. “What in the name of the Egg are you doing here?”

“Making sure you end up begging for my cock before the sun sets tonight,” the lithe red-and-brown griffon shot back. “Or at least somegriff’s cock. I don’t want to deprive you of your life’s dream of being a little breeding whore forever!”

Gallus had to practically bite his tongue as he glared daggers at the other griffon. “Even if I was to lose, you’d never get me, Grazin. No matter how badly you want me.”

“Want you?” he scoffed as he leaned on his heavy recurve bow. “Wow, somegriff has a high opinion of themselves these days. You might be all big and important with some, but there are plenty of locals here who remember the runty little blue chick who we played ‘Wing the Cripple’ with.”

“Then why you so worried about my sleeping habits?” Gallus shot back, his claws clenching around his bow. “This the only way you figure you might actually get laid?”

Grazin snorted as he brushed his dark orange armband with the House of the Stormstruck Mountain crest on it. “Hardly. I’m here to make sure that idiot Giselle doesn’t completely ruin the griffons.”

“Positions Seven and Eight!” bellowed the referee from above. “Do we have a problem? You’re there to show us your archery skill, not your socializing skill!”

“What do you mean ‘make sure’?” Gallus demanded, ignoring the referee. Something about the way Grazin had said that made him nervous.

Grazin laughed as he returned to the proper shooting form. “Don’t worry, I’ve already decided you’re gonna be a little breeder. I’m gonna save those who are worth saving.”

He fired another arrow and this one landed a hairsbreadth await from the split arrow.

“What have you done?” Gallus growled, more than a little tempted to aim his bow at his old chickhood enemy.

“Position Eight!” the referee shouted again. “If you don’t continue firing, you’ll be disqualified and take an abandonment loss!”

“Can’t have that now, can you?” Grazin cackled as he fired again, landing his third bullseye in the outer gold ring. “I saw you choke in obstacle course yesterday, Gally-runt. You looked so distracted it was a miracle you didn’t knock yourself out on the first post! A failure like that combined with an abandonment loss? You’d be a Red whore after just one more loss.”

Gallus realized what the jerk had been trying to do and dove back into his mental shelter of calm, but it was cracked and broken. Abandonment losses were considered cowardly, and counted the same as losing two bouts. He couldn’t afford that.

He took his time to aim his shot, but he could feel the eyes of the referee on him. That and Grazin’s ongoing stream of snide comments ate at him… and when he fired, he found his shot only barely managed to catch the edge of the outer white ring for the target.

He swore under his breath and slotted his next arrow.

“You know, you could always just walk,” Grazin said idly as he scored an inner red ring. “If you’re so worried about being Giselle’s little bitch breeder and the disgrace you’ll get for losing… there’s no harm in walking away from a fight you can’t win. You should know. How many times did I have you flying away like your tail was on fire?”

“Shut it, Grazin,” Gallus snapped. He aimed again, but his quiet place was little more than rubble at this point. Even Professor Fluttershy’s advice couldn’t help him much. His next shot landed toward the inside of the blue ring—the middle position—but if he didn’t get his focus back, this would be a clear loss. “Anyway, it’s not a disgrace.”

While Gemma and Smolder had been there for his failure in the obstacle course yesterday, neither had spoken a word of it. He’d been grateful for that, especially since he’d manage to banish it from his mind for the rest of the day. All the questions presented by Giselle and Gerie had been a good distraction, but also what had made him lose that bout in the first place. He had to clear this last hurdle, or else he’d have no second-chances in the Gold Melee tomorrow.

Despite everything, he didn’t like the idea of losing.

“Not a disgrace? Yeah. Right. Keep telling yourself that,” Grazin said as he stepped back from the line and got a gulp of water. “What do you have the prove? You’re the big hero. Yeah, you’ll always be that sissy runt from the streets to me, but at least some of Griffonstone think you're the hottest thing since scones with baking powder. You don’t owe them anything.”

Gallus drew back as he breathed in and let loose. Inside of the red rings. He could do this.

“Then again…” Grazin mused. “If you’re—”

“Do you mind?!” Gallus snapped as he stepped back from the shooting line to take a drink—and to hiss at Grazin some more. They were starting to get glares from the other competitors. “What’s your game here, Grazin? You’re too stupid to be doing anything on your own. You’re working for someone.”

Grazin stepped up to him. The other griffon might be lithe, but he had at least a foot on Gallus. His opponent glowered down at the shorter griffon.

“Do you really want it, Gallus?” he whispered, his thick feathers falling over one of his dark green eyes. “Do you really want the sensation of some huge griffon’s cock sliding between your tits? Drilling into your wet pussy? Maybe even slamming into your ass? All while their claws fondle your big tits and thick butt? I always knew you were a runt, but I never figured you for a Featherheart. You survived the streets of Griffonstone. You made it out of the slums. These idiots around us? They have no idea what it’s like to survive what you’ve survived. We both know that griffonesses in the slums never made it there. They escaped early. Or… they found the jobs you’re signing up for.”

Gallus gaped at him while his old enemy’s words brought up the sensations he’d experienced with Gerie and Gemma. The words of Giselle and Griswald. The fact that most of the last day and a half, he’d wondered what it would be like to walk around with two heavy orbs on his chest.

“You’ll never make Gold, Gallus,” Grazin whispered. “Giselle might think she’s got something amazing planned, but she’s a newbie when it comes to the Admiral. He’s made sure you’ll never win. The best thing you can do is leave. You got a good thing in Equestria. You don’t owe Griffonstone shit. Head home. We’ll handle things from here. You don’t have to be some Red slut. And you’re too much a survivor to go Green.”

The referee dropped down behind both of them, but Grazin had already taken his position again and drawn another arrow.

Gallus looked between Grazin and the referee, then slowly picked up his bow. It felt a lot heavier than it had before. After all, who knew what Gerie actually thought? For all he knew, Aventa’s Touch brainwashed them into willing breeding machines. He had no idea what games Giselle might be playing.

“Seven and eight, enough. You will finish your round immediately.”

Would it be easier just to walk away from all of this? Tell Giselle to stuff it, apologize to Gemma and go home with Smolder?

He remembered the look in Gemma’s eyes when she’d come on her day off and swallowed hard.

Grazin seemed to be watching him, waiting to see what Gallus would do.

“Position Seven! Fire or be disqualified with an abandonment loss!”

Grazin jumped—and loosed. The arrow clipped the edge of the target and cracked against the fall wall.

Gallus almost dropped his bow as Grazin swore. He’d seen Grazin shoot before. The griffon almost never missed. And especially not because somegriff was yelling at him. There was only one reason for Grazin to shoot that badly.

He was nervous.

Gallus gritted his beak and took his position, drawing back and glancing at his opponent. “You were sent here to screw with my head, weren’t you?”

Grazin didn’t answer. He was too busy trying for his sixth shot.

Gallus growled and shook his head clear of the doubts Grazin had tried to plan. And in so doing, he seemed to settle a few things in his mind. There were still a few things up in the air, but why would he trust the logic of an old bully instead of griffons who had shown him nothing but kindness and passion since he arrived?

“You almost had me.”

“Position Eight, you—”

Gallus fired. The arrow sliced straight through the arrow that had split his first shot. He grinned.

“Dammit, you runt…” Grazin snarled.

Gallus turned to the referee and bowed his head. “Sorry about the delay. We’re old… friends and we got distracted.”

“Gallus, you don’t want to do this...” Grazin insisted. “This won’t end well for you.”

“Actually,” Gallus laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s not going to end well for you.”

He drew again before Grazin managed to get his bow slotted. Gallus released and easily scored in the inner red ring. When Grazin finally got his sixth shot off, it landed in the outer blue ring.

“Forty-three to forty-two,” Gallus hummed to himself as he stretched his arms a little. “You used to be so good at this.”

“Gallus, this isn’t the way to go,” Grazin hissed. “Walk away now. It’s for your own good.”

“Or you could walk,” Gallus suggested idly. “But even if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll find some nice, friendly griffon to knock you up. I’m sure the Admiral would love to see his little spy waddling around full of more griffonesses.”

It was Grazin’s turn to try and block Gallus out. He failed miserably. Which was a bad thing to do on the seventh and final shot.

“Oooh, ouch.” Gallus winced. “Outer black? That’s probably going to put you real close to Red if you’re not there already.”

“You snarky little runt!” Grazin snarled.

“Oh, shut your beak. I need to make my final shot.”

He found his quiet place. It was exactly as it had been at the beginning. A moment later, his final arrow was singing through the air until it cracked against the board in the outer gold.

“Final score,” the referee announced, still sounding annoyed. “Position Eight, fifty-three. Position Seven, forty-five.”

Gallus’s eyes slipped over to Grazin’s armband and couldn’t help but grin as the color became just a few shades away from a full Red Featherheart. He raised his bow in salute, then sauntered off the shooting line. He almost made it back to the Orange Gate when a tight hand grabbed his arm and spun him around.

Grazin looked furious and moments away from throwing a punch. “You think you can just screw with us like that?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re blabbing about,” Gallus said with a little yawn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d very much like to take a shower—”

“That’s a great idea,” Grazin said, his eyes suddenly burning with something Gallus didn’t like. “Let’s go.”

Before Gallus could react, Grazin had pulled him through the Orange Gate… but not toward the shower. Instead, he was shoved down a dusty unused hallway. Gallus had half a mind to let him get all the way, but decided he was sick of the bully.

With a flap of his wings, he did a somersault over his former enemy, and slammed his feet on the other griffon’s back, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap.

“Okay, we’re gonna do this the hard way!” Grazin yelled.

And just then, four doors opened in the hallway that Gallus hadn’t noticed in the dim light. Four burly griffons in black hoods and bodysuits stepped out. A couple of them had actual weapons in their claws.

“Oh… oh boy…” Gallus swallowed, taking a step backward. “This… is not what I had in mind.”

“That’s okay,” came a new voice from behind Gallus. “I got the feeling when he shoved you in here.”

Gallus glanced behind him to see Smolder causally wandering down the hallway, grinning at everygriff present. His heart leapt at the sight of her.

“Great timing.”

“I try.”

“No! This is not how it was supposed to go!” Grazin had gotten back up and shockingly, still had his bow. He pulled back and arrow. “Fucking dragons! Get out of our city!”

“Grazin, you can’t be that stupi—”

Grazin fired right for Smolder’s head. The arrow moved too fast for Gallus to react. Smolder didn’t seem to have that problem. She just blew out a little plume of fire that turned the arrow to ash before it ever reached her.

The bow clattered from Grazin’s claws. “Right…”

“Idiot,” Gallus muttered.

Despite the display, the four other griffons weren’t nearly as intimidated as Grazin. They cautiously approached. And then, another four appeared in those doorways.

“I didn’t realize I was this popular,” Gallus muttered as Smolder stopped at his side.

“Well, I did. Giselle mentioned something like this might happen. And she told me what to do. She said I should stay out of it, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. But I did follow some of her advice… like calling for backup when it all went down.”

From the opposite side of the dusty hallway, two double doors slammed open, revealing the gleaming silver breastplate of Sky Captain Griswald and a squad of twelve griffons in rock-colored scout armor. Six of them were armed with crossbows, while the other six had stun-staffs.

“Let’s make this easy,” Griswald growled, his eyes blazing with fury. “Stand down now, and I won’t have to break your wings off.”

One black-suited griffon decided not to take his advice. He charged Griswald with a club.

Griswald sighed, then backclawed the griffon into the nearby wall. The griffon hit so hard, dust rained down on them all from the ceiling. He slumped to the ground while his club rolled to Griswald’s paws.

“Any other takers?”

As one, the rest of the black-suited griffons held up their claws in surrender, all while Grazin’s curses echoed through the hallway.

“I owe you one,” Gallus said with a smile at Smolder.

“Yeah, I know.” Smolder grinned. “You owe him more. Even I couldn’t pull off a hit like that.”

Griswald stepped away from where his squad was taking the attackers into custody. He shook Gallus’s hand and actually cracked a smile.

“I didn’t want to use you as live bait,” Griswald said. “We didn’t know Grazin was in on this until this afternoon. He’s already made eight participants quit with his mindgames. I’m glad to see you’re made of sterner stuff.”

Gallus blushed hard under the praise. “He made a mistake when I realized he was waiting for me to break.”

“Great perception. That kind of skill would have been a major asset to my command.” Griswald nodded in approval. “Go take a shower and relax. I’ll come by this evening for a full debrief.”

“O-Of course…” Gallus said, swallowing hard as the Sky Captain walked back toward his team. He definitely was not staring at his ass.

“You’re thinking of a totally different kind of debrief, aren’t you?” Smolder said with a cackle.

“Shut up!” Gallus snapped.

What a poor loser~! Am I right~?!

Seriously, tho. Debrief Sky Cap. Please. PLEASE.