Coarse sand brushed against her coat. Her chest couldn’t seem to draw in air and its hot unpleasantness hurt her dry throat. Running water murmured nearby, not a large river, but a small, noisy stream. She could smell the water, but she couldn’t see it, and it made breathing even harder. Her body didn’t respond, and pain was a distant memory, but still a constant reminder. She could also smell blood but couldn’t see it either.

Her body simply refused to do anything but suffer in silence.

How could she be so cold under the sunlight? Her feathers held a stickiness, but the hot sand felt dry on her paws.

She was dreaming. Or rather, remembering… She could feel the oneiric quality of the scene she found herself immersed in. That was not what happened at the present. But she also wasn’t Ghadah, neither was she Gilda.

What was her name? She searched her memories, but she couldn’t remember. She didn’t know what a name was. She didn’t recognize others by name. She knew what a river was. She knew what sand was, but the being Gilda shared her mind with didn’t have words to categorize such entities.

More an animal than an intelligent being, but capable of rational thought. A ‘cavegriffon’ again, fully ‘equipped’, but lacking civilization. A bizarre experience. The closest she had ever experienced was the cyan griffon living in the cave, in the Stormy Eyrie. Yes. That was who she was, but something went terribly wrong.

Her body refused to obey. Her throat felt parched, and she could hear the water, and she wanted to go there, but she lacked the physical strength, and everything hurt, much like her real body in the waking world.

What had happened to her? Gilda knew her real body suffered a crash with Grunhilda, but she experienced a different set of memories and body. She searched memories and got no answer. Her mind didn’t seem to work right, and she slipped in and out of consciousness.

She was afraid too along with the griffoness she inhabited. She hurt all over, nothing worked, and everything felt wrong... She was supposed to be flying home with her dinner and nobody came when she cried. A faint, scared cry, alone. Panic set in, but even then, nothing worked.

Nervous neighing and nickering sounded nearby. Her head refused to raise and let her see but she smelled them above the water. The prey. Nearby. She heard their hooves on the grassy ground, and at the same time so distant. Everything seemed distant. The water, the sand, the warmth of the sun.

Her eyes stung and wetness blurred them. Something was terribly, terribly wrong and she knew it. Won’t anybody help her? Mother?

Finally, she managed to see one of the ponies as it came into her view. A green-yellow young earth pony mare, staring at her with huge, curious, and worried lime-colored eyes. She smelled at the air, her head hung low, ears perked up in worried curiosity. Another joined her. A male pegasus, cyan and blue, just like she was. He too, stretched his neck, torn between worry and curiosity, plagued by fear.

Then another joined, coming from outside of Gilda’s field of view. Large. Tall. Elegant. White, with mighty wings flared on her back and an elegant ivory horn on her forehead. Terrible like a spearpoint. It stared at Gilda with the same huge and scared magenta eyes. Nickered at the smaller ponies and ushered them away.

She stared at the griffon Gilda shared her body with. Head hung low too, she snorted and hoofed at the grass, where the riverside sand shifted into the green.

Thinking was too damn difficult, and Gilda knew there was a meaning to that dream. It was The Harpy trying to tell her something. Or maybe… It was herself, trying to tell her something.

Consciousness slipped away into cold darkness.

Moonlight made the grass dark and cold air surrounded her. It hurt her throat. So cold. She shivered and let out a moan barely noticing it herself. A warm body moved beneath her, and it hurt a little. Movement was a little jerky, but the soft griffon pelt felt nice, even if nausea and exhaustion dominated Gilda’s senses.

“Don’t worry, Miss Gilda. We’ll make it to Ponyville!” Grunhilda told her with frantic excitement and panting breathing. “I saw some pegasi flying above!”

She hummed, tried to speak, but strength left her and just trying to do anything hurt. Grunhilda would take care of things and she could rest for a bit. Just a little bit.

Gilda soared among the infinite blue. She really ought to fly more often… It was awesome. The wind under her wings, carrying her forward, way above the emerald prairies. A small stream crossed it, almost large enough to be called a river, though she didn’t have such names in her head. It was a course of water that divided the wide prairies where the ponies grazed. It stood towards the sun in the afternoon, and that was all she needed to know of the place. Going the opposite way would take her home.

The Allmother had called to them earlier that day as she was used to hunt in the twilight, but it made no difference. The storm brought the rushing euphoria with it and prompted griffons to leave their homes and seek food.

Other griffons flew with her, but they had their own techniques and their own preferred hunting grounds. The common knowledge told them to avoid each other and not stray too close from one another when they flew to kill. Tempers tended to rise, and talons often flew around with little regard for consequences. Gilda didn’t want an ugly gash on her neck to disturb her pretty plumage.

But it all concerned her little as soon as her keen eyes found her prey dotting the green bellow. Colorful coats under the sun and flamboyant manes in the wind, a herd followed their matriarch around, surrounded by the bulkier males.

All the colors in the rainbow and some more, they barely paid any attention to the sky above. Even their winged ones flew low, close to the safety of their numbers.

They really ought to look up more often, and they didn’t live long enough to learn the lesson.

She circled above. Wings wide open, silent in the wind. She watched. Studied. Identified the older ones, the foals. Did any of them have a limp? Which were the ones least likely to resist? Or even better, a young pegasus mare, distracted with whatever stupid thing she saw in the grass.

She smiled and anticipation grasped her chest as Gilda banked her flight to the left and started on a downward spiral. She oriented herself on her target before finally letting her wings close and allowing gravity to give her speed. Fixated eyes on her unknowing target and wind rushing past her ears.

A loud thunder cracked. Or something resembling thunder. It smelled like thunder too, with the rainy aroma which usually followed one of the storms in the Stormy Eyrie. Even in the bright day sky, there was a flash, but it all happened so fast she barely understood anything.

All she managed to grasp was that something had struck the side of her chest and threw her flight off course. She tried slowing down, but her wing didn’t work right anymore. It hurt too much. She realized she couldn’t breathe, and panic dawned when the ground approached much too fast.

Gilda woke to her own screaming. She laid on the grass, dark all around and still so cold, despite the characteristic fluffy warmth from Grunhilda’s fur against her back and her wings wrapped around her.

Did she scream, or did she merely dream it?

Above, the starry night showed the moon, but little else. Not a tree in sight in the dark, but her blurry sight couldn’t be truste, and she failed to raise her head. Too nauseous and too weak. She wanted to ask Grunhilda where were they, but her voice failed too. Her heart pounded fast, and her fingers trembled. A wave of shivering washed over her with an involuntary moan and air refused to flow into her. It seemed insufficient and it also hurt, stinging rasping against her throat and stinging at her lungs.

She heard Grunhilda snoring softly next to her and felt her chest moving against her back.

The dark became darker and colder.

She rolled on the grass, down the gentle slope towards the small stream after she impacted. Everything hurt, but she stood. Fury barely described it. Something had collided into her as she launched towards her prey, and someone was going to pay for it! It certainly one of those too playful youths that had no understanding of the unspoken etiquette of hunting!

Her head swiveled around, but she found no other griffon standing up from the grass she could scream at.

She smelled blood and it only made her snappier than her anger already did.

Then she noticed her chest was wet, and that the blood she smelled was her own.

Her head spun and her balance failed her. She spread her paws to keep from collapsing. What had happened? She had nothing but angry confusion.

Hooves trampled the grassy ground and approached her. Male ponies. Earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns. They reared and neighed, snorted angrily, but kept their distance, afeared and nervous. Even if they taunted and challenged her. Earth ponies stomped the ground and neighed noisily, pegasi flapped their wings and snorted while unicorns hoofed at the grass and their horns let fly harmless sparks.

None of them had the tools of a killer. Square and dull teeth, blunt horns, and pointless, cutesy flashes and colorful sparks. Pitiful wings and small hooves… She was the one with the meat-tearing beak and the flesh-rending talons. The instinct of a killer and thirst for warm blood.

Her cry failed her as her voice didn’t come out as it should. Her chest hurt so much she cut short her cry into a pathetic whimper. Her head spun again, but she stood her ground.

Then she saw it.

It came from behind the taunting ponies.

It was an abomination.

Too tall and too bulky. It had ample and strong wings, opened in full display against the flare of the sun. Long legs and a sharp horn, terrible as the talons of her own kind. Her big magenta eyes, full of fear and of hatred shifted for a while before fixing on Gilda. It nickered and snorted, approaching slowly, and kicking the ground, throwing its head menacingly.

But Gilda, or whatever would her name be, was the one supposed to be feared in that place. Anger gave her strength, and it took some effort, but she overcame the pain which came with moving her wings. If anything, the pain gave her focus and her anger directed her thoughts.

Did that thing attack her? She would shred it to bits and try its meat. It looked like prey, it smelled like prey, and it sounded like prey, therefore it must be prey.

She lunged. Sluggish, but moved by anger.

The creature’s horn shone as bright as the sun itself and its shine kicked her back, burned plumage, and fur. Her breath filled with burnt flesh, and she tumbled down the slope to the riverside in a storm of searing pain.

Then hooves came down with the sound of angry neighing and the last thing she heard where bones cracking.

Gilda startled awake again. She laid on the grass under the morning sun. The air still had the same chill from the night. Or she was sick. Something definitively wasn’t right. She was dreaming a while aggo, but it came close to reality… Damn dreams.

She’s been slipping in and out of consciousness and those stupid dreams made it all worse. Did she just witness Princess Celestia murdering a griffon? Or herself in another life? Was that princess Celestia? They behaved more like animals. She didn’t know… Her mind constantly lost itself in a fog, and every thought became a derail-prone train ready to cause a disaster.

She could remember she dreamt of dying, In some bizarre life before civilization. Or something of the sort. She didn’t understand the details and she didn’t know enough to understand. It was just a stupid dream that hurt too.

She also dreamt about Grigor and Grover. She didn’t remember much of it other than the fact she hadn’t liked it at all. It showed her the beginning of the fall of the Empire, right? Something like so. Due to The Harpy being inflexible, or something… Nah… Surely it was the disunion Grover sowed. Everything would still be cool hadn’t he been so damn incompetent.

The grass felt nice and soft against her body, anyways. A gentle stream flowed nearby with the unmistakable sound of running water.

The sun warmed her, but she shivered. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Her mouth was dry. She groaned… She wanted those thoughts out of her head and her bladder must be full because her loin hurt as it did whenever she really needed to go to the bathroom. Particularly after drinking way too much alcohol and spending the whole day sleeping in and out of dreams.

“Damnit…” She whined softly to herself, so much it hurt. The pain pulled a soft and sad cry from her, and she almost gave up. She really needed to go, though.

She found Grunhilda’s backpack nearby, but not Grunhilda herself. The meat smelled from inside the backpack, but she didn’t care about that.

“Grunhilda?” She called but her voice came out too soft and cut by the pain in her chest.

She made a herculean effort to raise her head just a little and managed to see the stream under a small collection of modest trees and some greens. By the stream she finally found Grunhilda in the shade.

She sat on the water and pawed it at her fur, glistening under the sun like a freaking silver coin. Her huge frame didn’t steal from her distinctive elegant feminine shape. Her white fur and feathers helped a lot, looking so pristine and so fluffy. Gilda supposed it came from her northerner heritage.

Griffons were elegant creatures, in the way they walked and moved, with their feline bodies and their dexterous forelimbs, no surprise Grunhilda would too.

She had the natural ‘eyeshadow’ in a darker shade of gray which made her seem so… Wild? She had fierce eyes, despite her usual dumb stare and submissive behavior. It went well with her backswept feathers that emulated fluffy ears. Gilda supposed her eyes were another characteristic of the northerners.

Her wings were something else too… If she had more practice, she should be a great flier, with big and powerful wings enough to brave the heights.

In the end, she was built like a fighter; one who could fly, and she wasn’t even trying. Her strong physique lent to a powerful and elegant body of a hunter, and it was also feathering sexy.

What the actual fuck? When did the big girl get to look so damn sexy? Gilda had to be hallucinating or some shit. She laid half-dead in the damn grass and caught herself perving over her friend.

Forcing her forelegs to the ground, she managed to raise enough she could smell urine soaking her own coat. Just great.

She managed a couple of steps, but had to stop because her breath came too short, cut by the pain every time. Not only her joints ached when she had to support her own weight, but her wing hadn’t miraculously healed either. Her chest hurt like a hammer hit her every time she drew in air, and she had to give in and lay down again with a sobbing whine.

Grunhilda gasped and hopped off the water, rushing to Gilda with her childish panicked stare. She helped Gilda stand, carefully supporting her chest with a foreleg and clicked her beak nervously.

“Miss Gilda? Are you okay?” She whined nervously.

“I’m cool, Grunhilda… I’m just a bit sore… And tired. I just gotta go to the bathroom.”

She whined and looked one way and the other. “There are not bathrooms here, Miss Gilda.”

Gilda chuckled at her friend and winced at the pain which followed. Still, she smiled. “Just help me get out of the way. And be careful, alright?”

Gruhilda whined and placed herself by Gilda’s side, supporting her weight with a wing and walked her to the trees where Gilda found a patch of dirt rather than grass. She squatted on her hindlegs and the other turned away, distancing herself a few paces. Relieving herself hurt about as much as everything else and she could swear she felt too weak even to take a piss.

Then she smelled blood and when she looked at her puddle it looked more like blood than urine, despite the strong smell. Well, shit. And she had thought the thugs in Griffonstone were scary.

“Fuck…” She whimpered to herself and Grunhilda gasped when she arrived, just in time to hold her because Gilda swayed to the side. Grunhilda panicked and gasped a whine, but she held Gilda. Then everything went dark.

She came to again and worried it was another dream, but she could see Grunhilda grabbing water from the stream. She left Gilda leaned against a tree and apparently, she couldn’t even dream straight anymore. Her head spun as the other griffoness brought something to her and took a moment to understand.

Grunhilda had brought her water in a cup made of leaves. It leaked, but it worked well enough. She let her pour the fresh water into her mouth and chuckled internally, imagining when did Grunhilda learn to make such a thing.

Anyways, the water washed away the bad taste of dry mouth and even made her feel a little better.

Her friend even offered her a cut of cold meat. The grease tasted buttery and clumped, but it smelled of good food. She held it, teared a beakful of it and swallowed. It tasted like paper, and it didn’t seat very well in her stomach, but she knew eating something would probably be a good idea.

Just moving her paws around challenged her willpower, though.

Grunhilda sobbed and whimpered next to her. Teary eyes again and the same childish expression of sorrow from before. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda! I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“Chill, Grunhilda…” Her voice came out weak and it came to the point it scared Gilda just how numb she felt to the very fact she had literally pissed blood, and everything seemed broken. The fact she wasn’t scared, somehow scared her. “It’s gonna be alright.”

A branch cracked behind her and Grunhilda heard it too because she snapped to the direction and gasped loudly with her teary eyes suddenly becoming glassy with fear. “Go away! Leave us alone!”

Someone approached and Gruhilda stood protective over Gilda, but someone laughed. It sounded like a pony, but strangely mocking. Three of them circled around and Grunhilda hissed like feral cat, flaring her wings.

“Go away!” She cried again, close to Gilda, shivering against her. “I’ll… I’ll hurt you!”

Three ponies, indeed. The first was the annoying cheery gray-green unicorn with the purple mane that disturbed her at the hotel. Still with the same dumbass saddlebags, but with a superior smile and condescending stare rather than annoying friendliness.

“Told you guys it was her.” He chuckled. “Also, that every dumbflank going from Canterlot to Ponyville stops here. Only reason they haven’t built an inn yet is because the Archduke is a cheap asshole.”

“Shit…” Gilda groaned. “I should have known.”

“Oh… What was that? Did you manage to get yourself half-killed already?” He laughed. “What the hay did you do?”

He touched a hoof on Gilda’s shoulder, but she didn’t have the energy to react.

“Get away from her!” Grunhilda’s voice broke and tried lunging at the pony, but a big earth pony shoved her on the ground.

“Hey, stay there! Nothing needs to be harder than it already is.” His voice carried a bizarre mixture of sympathy and hardness. A bulky draft dude, like Rainbow Dash’s friend’s brother. But olive-green with a black mane cut very short and wearing a black leather and metal barding. Custom fitted. He carried a massive, spiked hammer on his back, and to wrap it all up, he wore a black mask with a grill for him to speak and holes for the eyes.

Motherfucker looked sinister as heck for a pony.

Grunhilda shuffled on the floor and started crying, covering her eyes, the same way she had done before.

“Hey… It’s… It’s cool…” Gilda breathed heavily. “Just don’t hurt, her, okay? She’s… fragile.”

From the other side came another pony. A large unicorn mare, dark brown with a long dark blonde mane, wearing the same mask the other wore but painted in a fiery pattern. She had four ‘fire ornated’ wheellock pistols attached to the peytral, and she laughed. “Geez, what did you do? They won’t pay us like that. This is too easy.”

“Hey, twenty-five thousand Bits is twenty-five thousand Bits! Easy or hard.” The green unicorn chuckled. “I’m not complaining if it’s easy, right sis?”

“Shut up, bub.” The unicorn female growled at him. “You’re getting five.”

At that, Gilda started laughing. It hurt and her short breath almost blacked her out. “Twenty-five? Man, Goy was ripping off Grahan!”

She winced at the pain and sighed. If Grahan was there he would probably have wasted those three dweebs already.

“Alright, enough talking.” The big male returned and nodded to Grunhilda curled up and crying in the grass. “Get the other one. I’ll deal with this one with River.”

“Right-o.” The male unicorn male walked over to Grunhilda, who sat and cried, trying to distance herself from the unicorn, but his horn shone, and he held her with his magic. “Hey, come on…”

Grunhilda screeched and squirmed but couldn’t move away.

“Hey, don’t hurt her!” Gilda tried to stand, but her strength failed her, and she collapsed on the unicorn mare who shoved her to the ground and Gilda cried at the pain. It hurt so much she almost actually wept for real.

“What the fudge! You reek of piss! Eew!” The mare’s horn shone, and she pulled a rope from the saddlebags in her barding.

“Witch, this is messed up… She’s done for…” The male pony told her with some empathy.

“Not our problem, River!” She shot back while Grunhilda screeched so loud her voice started getting hoarse. The only thing in Gilda’s mind was telling then not to hurt her, but she didn’t have the wind to speak through the pain. It remained from being shoved to the ground and the way the pony mare put a hoof on her. “She’s the one that got herself in trouble. We’re here just to take her to that fat griffon.”

Funny enough, in the situation Gilda found herself in, the pony just feigned very well, but she didn’t like what she was doing. Gilda understood. Taking lives went against the wiring in her stupid pony brain. Lucky her, Gilda couldn’t show her how it’s done.

“Get away!” Grunhilda shrieked and then she cried. Not in pain, or in fear. But in the ‘I’m gonna rip you apart’ way.

The green unicorn flew above them and crashed into the tree with a loud ‘thunk’ and the violent rustling of the leaves. His spine snapped like a twig and his legs flew around, as he spun away and dropped to the ground by the next tree like a sack of lifeless meat.

For an instant, Gilda thought she had drifted into dreaming again.

“What the hay?!” The mare screamed and pulled one of her pistols from her barding’s peytral. She shot reflexively at Grunhilda, who seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Gilda didn’t know if she hit her, but Grunhilda had pounced a distance of some twenty times her length. She tackled the unicorn mare with enough momentum she dragged her underneath, past the grass, dirt and roots with a sound that almost drowned out her terrified scream.

The big earth pony screamed, more scared and surprised than anything. “Witch, no!”

Gilda was half-dead, blacking out of consciousness. But she still could see the terror in that big dude’s eyes, past the sinister mask he wore, at the shrill cry from his partner.

Grunhilda turned to face him, low on the ground. Her fluffy chest stained red like her paws and her beak. She hissed and her muscles tensed like they were ready to explode in movement. Her wings opened low when the pony stood on his hindlegs, holding the hammer. He attacked her with a step forward, putting all his weight on it.

The weapon swung in a diagonal, in a difficult angle to dodge, aiming at her chest and it glanced loudly off her wing with a flash and magical sparks. It sounded like a blacksmith had just hit a piece of metal with their biggest hammer.

Shocked, the pony let the thing slip from his hooves and stood there, staring, confused, still on his hindlegs, slightly bent forward, with his forelegs dangling helplessly. As though his brain just stopped working at what had just happened.

Grunhilda’s face contorted into a furious scowl. Gilda imagined someone trying to hit her with a giant hammer would piss her off… The griffoness screamed and pounced the earth pony. He even tried dodging her, but her speed and weight brought him to the ground.

A piece of his barding flew away, and he screamed. Seeing exactly what happened proved difficult. He screamed again, but not the same scream from before. He screamed a third time, each time less composed and more horrified than the last. A fourth crying scream made Gilda’s stomach drop and he just kept screaming.

His hooves tried batting at the large griffon, but she didn’t even seem to register, and his screams turned to gurgling whimpers and fleshy noises.

A shot rang and apparently went wide. Grunhilda’s head rose and turned to stare at the unicorn. She sat by one of the trees and held one of her pistols with her failing telekinetic magic. Gilda didn’t really feel bad for her and found a streak of dark humor in the thought that ponies apparently needed both eyes to aim correctly. Intestines being on the inside probably would’ve helped too…

She might have found some sympathy in another situation, but found it really hard to feel bad for someone ready to sell her to the wife of a corrupted politician. Even when her face had been turned into so much blood and gore it became difficult to identify where her face ended, and the mask started.

She really could have afforded to just lay there and die, though. Because Grunhilda turned and rushed at her. The unicorn did grab another of her pistols and shot Grunhilda at point blank, but the sound which stayed with Gilda was the sickening crunch. Grunhilda grabbed her by her barding and shoved her against the tree. Then she grabbed her neck in one paw and pierced the flesh with her talons, squeezing bubbling blood out until the pony stopped squirming and went limp.

The only sound left came from the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, the stream and one or two birds chirping.

Gilda slipped between dark and a blurry Grunhilda coming to her. Blood stained everything red and all she could think of was whether or not her friend had been shot and how injured she was. But Grunhilda eased Gilda into her back and grabbed the backpack with her beak to resume her walk.

A stray thought had Gilda worrying she smelled bad, and she wouldn’t want to stink on Grunhilda, but she blacked out again with the griffon’s rhythmic gait.

At some point she heard thunder and the sky became dark. It had started raining and there she also heard plenty of screamin. She got jerked around, but she eventually woke up again in a bed, covered by white sheets and had a door on the other side of the light-green room. She also had a window next to her bed, showed a green meadow and a cute small pony city.

Most importantly, someone had stuck one of those tube-things to her right foreleg. She supposed the name for it was an intravenous access and it dripped a softly glowing pink stuff into her, and on her left foreleg they had stuck her with a blood bag.

It also seemed as though they had bathed her because she sure felt much better.

Everything seemed peaceful and dark, other than the artificial magical light on the corridor beyond the door. She couldn’t see Grunhilda, though. But Gilda supposed she could take care of herself, after all.

She surrendered to the drowsiness.

She woke slowly to see Grunhilda, looking much better without all the blood covering her plumage and her fluffy chest. Her feathers had been shaved in some placed and she had bandages stuck to her skin. She stared at Gilda with her big dumb worried eyes until she looked somewhere else.

“Please, Mister Doctor… We can’t stay here. Can’t you just give her more of the healing potion and let us go on our way? They’re waiting for us in Griffindell.”

Gilda wanted to berate her for telling anyone where they were going, but… Oh well… She could barely keep awake.

A male voice, spoke to her, patiently. “It’s not that simple, Miss Grunhilda. Your friend had several fractures and ruptured organs. We gave her a potion to save her life, but in the present situation, we are disallowed to give her more of it. They are awfully expensive, and we must keep them for other emergencies that may come to our hospital.”

“We have to go!” Gunshilda insisted anxiously. “Miss Gilda needs to get to Snow Mountains. The magic in our ancestral land is going to heal her.”

“Sweetie…” A female voice spoke too, also a pony. “You admitted to murder and that is serious. There is a custodian coming from Canterlot and she’s going to take you and your friend to a larger hospital. When you are healed, you can wait for an audience with a judge. And that is if Princess Celestia herself doesn’t feel the need to intervene. They identified both of you as fugitives from Griffonstone, and Haybale and your situation is delicate as can be. Your best bet is to wait and ask her for clemency.”

Grunhilda just whined quietly, and Gilda didn’t feel strong enough to even make them know she listened in. The whole thing worried her, but consciousness slipped away again.

She woke to the sound of glass breaking and someone screaming. Darkness shrouded the room, darker than before and so it did the corridor, which seemed strange to Gilda. The artificial magical lighting didn’t work, and she heard someone crying in the distance.

Someone shouted, something heavy dragged abruptly. One shot echoed, two shots and someone screamed, but it ended abruptly too.

Gilda noticed a small and yellow earth pony with a beautiful red mane and a big bow on her head. She had curled and shivered in the corner of her room. Whining quietly.

Lightning flashed over the meadow outside and thunder followed soon after.

The little pony startled and whimpered when someone in the corridor tossed glass around and it shattered noisily. It sounded again, and again as though someone tossed flasks around, looking for something. Ripped fabric, doors slamming until it all went silent again. Eerily silent and the only noises came from the raindrops splattering at her window and someone sobbing in the corridor.

Gilda didn’t know how long passed and she probably slipped into slumber again. But she woke to Grunhilda in the dark, holding something that seemed like a small vial to her beak.

“Drink this, Miss Gilda.” She spoke softly.

Something smelled of blood, but Gilda didn’t really pay a lot of attention to it. The other gently put something to her beak and poured a warm liquid into her mouth.

It tasted of grape juice and burned a little going down, but it immediately made her feel stronger. Then Grunhilda snapped open another vial and poured it the same for Gilda who took it compliantly.

It was a difficult thing to explain, but it made her feel better, less tired, and just stronger. But at the same time, it made her feel relaxed, as though it somehow pulled all the anxious fear she had been feeling because of her injuries. She could finally breathe a lungful of air again. Those little sips had blown away a deathly miasma hanging over her. She could finally rest for real, and she just smiled.

Grunhilda tossed the empty flask away and repositioned herself so she could drag Gilda onto her back. She wore her backpack and just let Gilda rest there for the moment.

“Hold on, Miss Gilda. We can’t stay here. But rest all you need. I’ll take care of everything.” She said as she made her way to the door.

“Thanks, Grunhilda.” She mumbled without thinking. “You’re awesome.”

Gilda finally slept. She didn’t slip in and out of consciousness as though constantly about to faint, and startling awake what felt like every five minutes.

She stared at the wood ceiling and blinked. Turned and sat in the middle of the bed. Cold gripped her, so she wrapped herself in the blanket. Made of deep brown rabbit skins. She held the thing and looked at it. If she didn’t feel very awake, she would be convinced she had fallen asleep and dreamt again.

Soft green linen covered the fluffy mattress she laid upon. Solid wood made up the bed itself while gray stone and mortar made the walls. Windows to outside showed a griffon city covered with fresh snow still falling from the sky.

It took her a while, but she got used to the cold and barely felt it anymore as she climbed down from bed to the wood floor. An actual bear rug caressed her feet, but she wanted the bathroom, nowhere to be seen.

She found a bed pan, though. It should be enough.

Damn… Not even in her shitty house she needed one of those, but at least all the pain and the bloody urine were a distant memory. She squatted awkwardly over the pan to relieve herself. Like a nightmare she had finally woken from, urine flowed easily. It felt like a blessing, just to be able to piss again. Her body finally felt like it had rested since the whole mess started. How long had it been? She even let a soft moan escape.

Just being able to breathe again, she felt like singing!

What was that place, though? Out the window, it looked like a griffon city in the distance. Stone buildings, thatched roofs, a crossroad just outside the yard with a fountain and a griffon standing on his hindlegs. Dark, overcast sky of a late afternoon, just before the Princess retrieved the sun above and snow everywhere below.

A pair of griffons in wine-colored heavy armor stood guard on the yard enclosed by an iron gate. Each carried a bulky black musket and a halberd.

The arching door out of her room had a latch she released effortlessly. The door revealed a fancy and rustic living room with other doors and a stairway downward. A pair of rustic couches, heavy-framed, and covered with thick black fur stood next to a short table, close to a fireplace. The air smelled of burning pine and the heat radiated a comforting warmth. Something stirred inside of her. The rustic place felt particularly cozy.

The table had bottles of different drinks, dried fruits, and several cuts of dried and salted meats. Her stomach complained at the sight, but she controlled herself… She was clearly a guest in someone’s house.

Almost on cue, a cute griffon lady, about as young as herself, climbed up the stairs. Yellow-lime coat and green plumage with a short beak and golden eyes full of calm happiness and a blue satin cloak over her back. A delicate chain of iron links held it in place.

“Morning, Miss Gilda!” She said. “Please, help yourself to the food. I had it placed there to wait for you.”

“Thanks.” She said, making her way to one of the couches and sitting to choose something from the table. “Where’s Grunhilda?”

“She’s resting.” The griffon girl sat herself on the other couch and helped herself to a pawful of toasted peanuts. “Do you remember anything?”

“I guess I remember enough.” Gilda let her stare drift down for a second. But Grunhilda did what she had to do… She turned her attention to the table and the fancy small vials with purple liquid drew her attention. Three of them, wider at the bottom and thin at the pinnacle, made of fancy crystal and sealed shut by a snapping top.

She took one in her paw. Less than a cup of liquid inside, but it sizzled with magic when she disturbed it. Its magic seeped into her paws like sticking her paw into a cup of soda.

“Miraculous little things.” The green griffoness said, but then shook her head. “Each one of those is worth a small fortune. Princess Celestia will hunt you and your friend down to the ends of the world now. Our informants say the changeling medical advances they are bound to share, now they are a part of the federation is bound to lower the prices on these things… I suppose we’ll see. Right now, you could buy this manor with these three.”

“Nah…” Gilda put it back on the table. “I’ll hold on to them… We’re likely to need them in our travel. Where am I, by the way?”

“Stormrend Manor. Thunderpeak. You might have guessed already, but among friends for now. I’m Gia.” She added with a smile. “You can stay for however you like, and I would advise giving your thrall a day or two to rest. She’s a loyal and dedicated one.”

“She’s my friend.” Gilda frowned.

Gia nodded. “I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. These things are normal in the north.”

Gilda didn’t really make much of it, but she didn’t want the other to think that Grunhilda was a servant or anything of the sort. Also, she found chunks of ham incrusted in honey and she remembered she was hungry. So, she took one to eat.

“If I understood correctly, you lived in Griffonstone and Master Gabriel recruited you. You ran away from some problems and that has put you in contact with his daughter…” Gia spoke calmly as Gilda’s beak teared at the sweetened meat.

“Yeah… I told her about her father and Gerdie told me a few things to help me get to Griffindell.” Gilda stared for a second, pausing with the meat. “You should know he is still in the Griffonstone Hospital and that Princess Luna messed up his paws. I don’t think he’ll be leaving any time too soon. Especially if they don’t give him one of these.”

She hummed as Gilda returned to her food. “These potions are meant as life-saving measures. Griffon paws are special too… So specialized, and nerves make things difficult. These things will mend organs tendons and vessels, but they can’t fix nerves so easily. It takes time. And surgeries. But the best would be to take him to Snow Mountains and let Lady Gwendolen, or one of my high-ranking sisters see him.”

“But I must switch subjects… I need your help. If I understand correctly, you are not officially a Swordmaiden yet…” She started.

“No, I guess I’m not.” The question piqued Gilda’s curiosity. “What do you need?”

“You are certainly aware of the raid on Master Gabriel’s museum…” She teased. “I believe it is provocation enough to move the population of the city to a revolt. I would like, very much, to recover the lost items, but I am rather young and quite new at my profession… The resident northerners appreciate my job, but in order to fight the powers that be, they need some extra encouraging and Lady Gwendolen has left me to fend for myself…”

“I hear griffons thrive in adversity…” Gilda grinned a smug grin.

“Indeed.” The other responded in kind.

“I guess it would piss off the Chancelor…” Gilda’s grin grew up a notch. “Do you think if he knew the ‘fugitive from Griffonstone’ got involved, he might be motivated to ask Griffonstone’s mayor a few questions?”

“I will tell you something even more interesting… Imagine they had to store the items from the raided museum somewhere.” The other grew mysterious and mischievous.

“Alright…”

“Suppose the only place they had in town was the city hall depot.”

“I’m following.”

The other then spoke with a lowered voice and even more of a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Suppose the mayor was involved in helping the Chancellor in hiding his stolen money…”

“Oooooh…” Gilda almost giggled. “I guess that would piss off the Chancellor. What would happen to said money?”

“It should mostly go to the cause. You know… The lascivious and pompous meetings in honor of The Harpy aren’t for free just because Lady Gwendolen is our future queen and her high priestess. But I think neither would object to a portion of the money rewarding her faithful. Especially if that netted The Lion an important town right at the doors of a civil war.”

"Sure.” Gilda agreed. “Take everything, give nothing… Right?”

Next Chapter: Big Cat League Estimated time remaining: 26 Hours, 13 Minutes