The market was close enough to the main square that a short flight was all it took to reach it from across some roofs. It was also difficult to miss. Spacious, with many stands and several stores surrounding it and the cobblestone streets that flowed into it. Most stands were empty though, as were many stores and vacant areas that ought to be occupied by stands. Very few griffons perused the services and despite that being the sort of place where all manners of smells should emanate from, only a few of the food-vending stands operated that morning.

A large tavern seemed to be doing well, though.

Landing in the empty street, so that they didn’t bother any of the griffons strolling on the walkways, Gilda gratefully took note that instead of Griffonstone’s wide and long walkway surrounded with overpriced stores and food carts as far as the eye could see, Thunderpeak had opted for a more reasonable approach of ‘let’s just put the usual stores here so that anyone living in the city or visiting could easily find what they wanted.’

Since the streets were empty, she took a few seconds to scan the nearby stores for some sort of grocery or even some store that specialized in travelling supplies. She should also find something for Grunhilda to wear and protect herself because she cringed at the mental image of her Big Gal getting hurt. Especially in the middle of the harsh eternal winter their destination was supposed to be.

Lost in thought and in mindless observation of the whole area, her heart almost jumped out of her beak when Grunhilda shrieked like a small chick and rushed to the bookstore next to them.

“What?!” She caught up with Grunhilda that had her face glued to the glass showcase. One quick glance up showed the name of the store. ‘Geeva’s Books’ painted in red. What did Grunhilda want with books? “What?!”

“Look!” Grunhilda’s talon poked nervously at the glass and one book amid all the others, on the short stands where they lined side by side. A sizeable one, blue-tinted leather cover of the fancy kind, and rather thick, with a golden drawing of a hammer and an anvil above the title in the center. ‘Goovar’s Compendium of The Smithing Arts’.

“Oh! You want it?” She looked at Grunhilda with a smile as the other squirmed and tap-danced like she needed to pee.

“Please?” She urged like a child in a toy store. “Pleeeeeease!”

“Gee. Sure! But Chill!” Gilda tried her best no to smile or laugh, but it was hard, and she failed miserably. “Now stop that. Let’s go see how much it is.”

She made her way to the door on the left and Grunhilda didn’t stop, but Gilda didn’t really mind it. Inside it was a nice enough store, with a fancy beige carpet above the wood floor and a magical light fixture provided internal light. To the right, by the wall, was a counter with a griffon lady wearing glasses behind it. Not particularly big, and reaching the elderly age, she was green with a green-tinted white chest and head that stared at them with a pair of emerald eyes behind reading glasses. She judged the two of them by Grunhilda’s outburst.

The interior smelled of books and they occupied every inch of the stands that covered the walls. Books of every color and size.

“Well, I’m glad I opened today.” The owner said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I’d have a customer today with all the fighting last night. Much less one so excited. How may I help?”

Gilda decided it was better if she spoke because Grunhilda still seemed to not have regained her faculties yet, so she pointed at the stand towards the showcase. “How much for the book on smithing?”

“Goovar’s?” The older griffon adjusted her glasses. “That would be two hundred Bits.”

Gilda didn’t grimace, and remained with a stoic façade, but two hundred Bits for a book was a lot of money. Grunhilda certainly knew that too because she gave Gilda an apologetic stare and then her typical sad frown.

But… Grunhilda... She had saved Gilda’s life, and she was… Gilda wasn’t sure what Big Girl was to her, but they were close. How could she deny her that book after the story Master Galahault had told them? And how could anyone resist that sad frown?

“How much for it in Eagles?” Gilda smiled broadly with a playful singing in her voice.

Regardless, the griffon lady remained with a stone solid stoic expression. “It is still two hundred. The Harpy isn’t paying my bills, you know?”

Grunhilda gave a little whine, and Gilda was a bit miffed her mojo didn’t work, since she was supposedly a hero, but that was for Grunhilda.

“It is an excellent book.” The store owner explained with a superior glare upon Gilda. “While he was not quite on the same level as our Master Galahault, Goovar was quite brilliant.”

“It’s alright. I’ll buy it anyway.” She told the griffon lady, who nodded and went around the counter to fetch the book while Grunhilda squealed and grabbed Gilda in one of those inescapable hugs that squeezed the air out of her.

“Thanks a lot, Miss Gilda!” As if that wasn’t enough, she started hopping happily with Gilda for a while before she noticed she overdid it and let go with a panicked squawk.

“Sorry! Please forgive me, Miss Gilda!” She held Gilda’s shoulders while the later groaned, trying to focus through the black spots in her eyes and waited for the shop to stop wobbling around her.

“I suppose this is yours then?” The storeowner held the book for Grunhilda to grab, inside a protective paper case with a replica of the cover. “Enjoy it.”

“Thanks!” Grunhilda hugged the book in sequence and Gilda shook the dizziness out of her head.

Big Girl was so happy she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re welcome, Big Girl. I gotta pay her, though.”

“Yes!” The big griffon grinned and promptly delivered Gilda the leather bag with the coins from her backpack. Gilda gave her one final smile, watching Grunhilda donning the backpack again before focusing on grabbing the right coins from their collection and dropping them on the counter for the shopkeeper to see.

“You buy books for her and let your thrall carry your money.” The storeowner almost sounded as though she chastised Gilda. “I can understand educating a thrall, but something like this seems excessive. Although, I could see how a griffon whose profession is the sword would find great benefits from a loyal thrall that can repair and sharpen such weapons.”

“Grunhilda is more my friend than my thrall.” Gilda remained calm as she watched the other griffon picking up the money and checking the coins, inclusively by biting the things. “She’s saved my life like I saved hers.”

“I am not judging either of you.” The older storeowner took the money and dropped it on a drawer behind the counter. “I think it is noble, as far as northerners and their thralls go. You are not a northerner though, are you?”

“I suppose that I am not.” Gilda gave back to Grunhilda the bag with the coins, keeping her eyes on the storeowner. “Then again, with how crazy things turned out, I might as well consider myself beyond that.”

The other griffon cocked an eyebrow, but Gilda didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Okay.” The other secured the book and the money in her backpack and then followed outside.

Thunderpeak’s market wasn’t as impressive the one in Griffonstone. Yet other than being more welcoming, it was also much cleaner. To the point that maybe griffonstonians were just lazy bastards that felt they were too good to clean the streets. And that was not even thinking of not throwing trash in public ways, but not cleaning the grime that rain often left behind, or the soot that city produced.

Gilda sighed the thoughts out of her head. She had more important things to do.

“Is everything alright, Miss Gilda?” Her big companion tilted her head to look at her from the side. Then she gasped. “I’m sorry! Was the book too expensive?”

Was she seeing things or had Grunhilda, somehow, gotten just a little smaller? Anyways, she just smiled at Grunilda. “Nah. Everything is cool. Just thinking about Griffonstone.”

The other frowned a little, that way she did when something upset her. “I don’t miss Griffonstone!”

“Yeah. I can’t say that I do either.” Gilda frowned a little too. “But that’s not what I was thinking.”

Then she shook her head. “Never mind. It’s not important. Let’s find something to eat.”

But Grunhilda still had that mopping ‘I’m worried, please give me attention’ frown and Gilda quickly scanned the market, which gave her a grin and she pointed. “Hey. Look it there! How about some sausages?”

Grunhilda immediately lit up. “Oh! Sausages! Yes, please!”

Well, that worked! Gilda grinned again at her excitement and walked with the happily hopping Grunhilda to the stand. It was owned by a middle-aged griffon. White-gray head and a much darker body with a white apron that seemed clean for his profession. Or maybe it was just the time of day being so early on. The area in front of his stand even had a few wooden tables. Nothing special, and not even seats, but that was good enough.

“Hello!” He grinned. “Can I offer you ladies some sausages? I have natural pork, spiced, garlic and smoked.”

Maybe it was the smell that invaded her nostrils, but Gilda just noticed that she was starved! She did her best not to gawk and looked over the sausages in display behind the protective glass to the side of the small heating pan above the burning wood. Some of them sizzled on top of it and she could almost taste them already.

“Yes, please! Give us two of each! Actually, make that three. I’m starving!”

Grunhilda nodded happily by her side as the griffon guy set some more to heat. “In a moment, ma’am.”

“So, how much?” She looked back up from the pan.

“Ah…” He scratched the side of his head and frowned. “I don’t mean to offend or anything, and I meant to make them free for you… But I need the money. And there aren’t a lot of griffons out here today.”

She looked around for a while and, indeed, most stands had no customers, much less the stores that surrounded the round plaza the market was. In the center was another food stand offering fresh meat cuts, and they had one customer complaining about something.

“It’s just the aftermath of the battle.” He waved a paw at them. “Griffons will come out eventually when things settle down. The Lion’s gonna be good for us… And whoever will be the new mayor.”

“Dude, we can pay.” Gilda told him, but then she frowned. “Why did you say you wouldn’t charge us for the food?”

“Well, for one, I like The Lion. City is under an honorable liege now and I’m sure whoever he supports to administrate the city is bound to be better than Grosster.” He explained with a shrug. “But there is also the fact that you spared my kid. I don’t think that any other northerner would have.”

Gilda hummed and Grunhilda looked at her curiously. “He… Didn’t want to die… I mean… I doubt that anyone there wanted to, but he cried and... Well, he didn’t shoot at me.”

The griffon on the other side of the stand nodded. “I just wanted to thank you, Lady Gilda.”

“Well, I feel thanked.” She put a paw on her chest. “I’m gonna pay for these sausages. I mean… I have the money and it’s supposed to be used for supplies and such for our travel.”

“Ah!” He raised a finger. “Going north? Through Wayfarer’s Rest?”

She just nodded and he grinned, pointing to the other side of the plaza. “My friend Gillian is setting up a caravan headed that way. They’ll be taking some of my farm’s produce to the inn. You should talk to him. It’s safer to travel in caravans, you know. With all the brigands around... They send their griffons to city markets to sniff out potential targets. Any traveler is guaranteed to find a group of bandits if they don’t take a few fighters to protect them and caravans always travel with escorts.”

“Hum. Thanks.” She looked in the direction to see the griffon in question supervising a cart getting loaded with stuff and turned back. “So, how much for the sausages?”

“That would be eight Bits, ma’am.” He started grabbing them with pincers and putting them in a wood plate.

“Will you take Eagles?” She blinked at him.

“Oh. Sure.” He slapped his forehead. “Gee. Gaetana had been pushing them around for ages. I guess that now she’s got her wish.”

As he spoke, Grunhilda got the coins for Gilda, who paid the griffon and they excused each other with a nod as Grunhilda followed her to one of the tables. On the way they passed a couple of young griffons at the tables, but they just nodded a greeting. Gilda did the same.

Sitting at the table, she didn’t even care which seasoning each one had and just bit off a chunk of the first she grabbed with a happy hum as the greases and seasonings invaded her mouth.

Not much later Grunhilda did the same, but Gilda took a second to speak with her. “As soon as we’re done, we’re gonna talk to the caravanner and see if we can join.”

Grunhilda just held a half sausage and nodded with a happy hum-hum. Apparently, she was starving too!

Physical exertion is widely known as a stimulant for one’s appetite. Be mindful that your magical abilities will push your body to its limit, and that is why an intense physical training regimen will be in order. You must also be aware that your body’s nutritional requirements are met.

Gee, she just got a pass at eating more. Woe…

The Harpy spoke no more and let Gilda with her friend to devour the sausages in silence. When they were done, Gilda sent Grunhilda to return the plate, and turned her attention to the caravanner.

It was a not quite so young griffon, about the same age as the dude with the sausages stand, but he was cyan and white, with clear blue eyes he kept on his notebook as other griffons loaded stuff up in the cart and in the other two that had arrived while they ate. There was also a pair of gruff and strong-looking griffons keeping watch. They wore leather armor but seemed to have no weapons.

She kept a bit of a distance, since there were griffons carrying heavy, not to mention expensive stuff. But she cleared her throat and rose a paw in greeting, speaking clearly. “Hey. You guys headed to Wayfarer’s Rest?”

The griffons working to load the carts stopped and stared at her. Their shock was disconcerting at first, but she immediately concluded she should get used to it. Instead of an answer, all she got was a bunch of ‘toms’ gawking wide-eyed and dropped-jaws at her though. And it got worse when Grunhilda rejoined her.

At least until their boss came over. The griffon the other guy had called Gillian left his notebook on a cart and put some order in the whole operation with a couple of well-placed slaps. “Get back to work, you weasels.”

“Damn kids. Can’t see a pretty tail.” He grumbled and Gilda decided to just take that as a compliment while Grunhilda blushed. “Sorry, Lady Gilda. I’m Gillian. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I heard you’re going to Wayfarer’s rest?” She smiled pleasantly.

“Aye. Looking for some company on the road?” He nodded with a friendly smile of his own but went on before she could answer. “Be nice to have someone under the future king with us to shoo away the low lives.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Besides, the kids will work harder if they think they can impress you. So, how about this: you join our escort, with all the benefits of that, keep the boys motivated, and help protect us along the way. And we’ll get you there.”

She wasn’t expecting a full proposal like that, but that sounded awesome! However, she wanted to play hard to get and look like she knew what she was doing, so she kept her best ‘mildly interested’ expression and nodded with a sniff. “And what would those benefits be?”

“The usual.” He offered a paw. “Free food, griffons that know the way, some company, more eyes to watch out for trouble… All you gotta do is fight off any bandits we happen across. Which, uh… Shouldn’t be much trouble for you.”

He waited a pair of seconds. “I can pay too if that is not enough.”

Well, it kinda was, but she really shouldn’t just give her talents for free… The Harpy would be angry if she did, and if it came to an ambush that dude would be happy he hired her.

At the same time, that would be shitty of her to do… Dude already had hired guards and she’d be cutting into his profits. The situation being what it was in the city he would probably need that money.

The griffon didn’t say anything more and he was good at hiding his thoughts behind a rock-solid blank expression of simple expectation.

“Alright.” She softened up. “You’re offering a lot to us. I mean… We’d be travelling alone and that is simply not good. I don’t think that I can charge you anything and… Dude, to be honest, I don’t know the region… We’d end up getting ourselves lost. I mean, I’m not really a mercenary either. By all rights, we should pay you for the food you will give us.”

“Or I could help!” Grunhilda suddenly piped in happily and pointed at the griffons bringing in loads of ‘stuff’ to the carts from a smithery past the circular street. If anything, Grunhilda made things sound fairer and not like she was imposing or something.

“Sounds good!” The griffon grinned. “The sooner we leave, the better! Gonna have to tell the other mercs, but that shouldn’t be a problem. You’re gonna be more help than trouble, unlike some of them.”

“Great!” Gilda grinned then looked at Grunhilda. “Get to it, then!”

“Okay!” She giggled and started towards the other griffons loading the cargo. The smithery had a side entrance they used for bringing the cargo from storage and Grunhilda found her way there and some attention from the guys as well as something to do.

Gilda excused herself from mister Gillian and went into the smithery. It was basically a spacious hall with a complete forge and some stands for showing off their work. A wide door in on the other side certainly went to the storage in the back, but she didn’t care. The whole place smelled of something she wasn’t sure what was, but it was similar to Master Galahaut’s forge, and she didn’t care about that either.

She turned to the strong-looking griffon in the middle of the room talking to some younger griffons that looked like his kids and were busy with something.

“Sorry ma’am.” He turned to her showing his leather apron covered in soot. “We’re closed for the week. We’ll be in Wayfarer’s Rest, selling our stuff to the caravans going north.”

He was big and strong, though not quite built like a mountain as a northerner. In fact, Gilda could swear that she was a tiny bit taller. It was his years of working the forge that gave him his mass. She wasn’t sure if his face was dirty or if his plumage was a dark gray while his body was a deep tan. He had a moustache, though and it was indeed gray when his eyes were more towards the blue.

But she wasn’t there to admire griffons and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m aware, dude. I’m gonna be protecting the caravan with your wares.”

“I see.” He frowned. “I suppose you need something, then?”

“Yeah… My friend needs some sort of protection.” Gilda pointed to her diadem. “She’s a big target and doesn’t have any armor or magical artifacts for protection.”

He hummed. “Big? I might have something. Where’s she?”

“She’s helping load the carts.” She pointed at the door and walked next to him when he went to the door in the back.

Opening it they could see one of the younger griffons pulling away a cart with a load of stuff covered under a dirty white cloth and another waiting while his friends loaded another cart with spearheads next to Grunhilda. But she got tired of waiting and just grabbed one of the griffon-sized burdens, threw it on her back and walked away while the griffons gawked.

“Yeah.” The griffon with Gilda squinted and made a finger gesture for her to follow. “I have something that might just do.”

They walked to a stand with a peytral made for a large griffon. It was black, with a nice bluish sheen, and adorned with a bass-relief drawing of a griffon. Although it didn’t look like it would fit Grunhilda, the blacksmith pointed at the thing. “This is enchanted with a pretty powerful shield spell. It was commissioned by a fat rich guy that wanted to hunt rocs with it. Well, he got shot last night and I’m stuck with a dumb piece of protective jewelry that doesn’t fit anyone.”

Gilda listened and looked at him when he sighed. “I’m going to lose money, but it is better than this stuff gathering dust and soot until another rich noble with a dumb idea shows up… Give me one thousand and I’ll adjust it so that it will fit your friend. I’ll even modify it free of charge since she’s helping load up the stuff and seems to be the most enthusiastic one.”

“Mind you that the spell on this thing is rated for the Royal Guard. This stuff is good.” He added before she could reply.

“Cool…” She nodded at him and pointed at the Harpy in her diadem. “Can you change that engraving to look more like this?”

“Yeah.” He squinted at the thing. “That’s easy. No problem.”

“How long then?” She grinned. “We’re leaving soon.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Caravan is going nowhere without me, ma’am. A couple of hours, at most.”

Better than she expected. “Awesome! You do that! I’ll make myself useful.”

And by making herself useful, she meant that she was going to see if she found something interesting in the market, and in one of the restaurants the owners recognized her from the meeting in the night before and she got a treat: delicious meat rolls invented by griffons from the Saddle Arabian desert and some quality, strong and dark beer. Now that was some relaxation.

But hey, she had grabbed the backpack from Grunhilda, and her bow and quiver too, so that they wouldn’t get in the way when she was trying to work. All she had to do was wait for a while and eat some tasty treats.

And she had to admit that despite the display of dweeb-ness when she first arrived, those guys were quite strong and hard-working. Not that she cared in that exact moment, though. From her table near the window, she could see the griffons loading the carts and she was more concerned with strong muscles and stout limbs. Tight hindquarters too.

It was not like she was horny, but she had a small grin, her elbow on the table and her head in her paw, watching the strong griffons working and Grunhilda’s stuff safely by her side.

There was Grunhilda, though. Carrying a load of metallic sounding stuff that clanked against itself inside the large rough cloth sack when she threw into the cart with a small hop like it was nothing.

The owner of the caravan startled at the noise and turned to her, chastising her with a finger and a stern talk that, unfortunately, Gilda couldn’t hear. But she could see the big griffoness casting a downward stare and mumbling her ‘okay’. Gilda didn’t even have to hear it to ‘hear’ it.

She frowned a little at the fuzzy feeling in her chest. It wasn’t unpleasant, but she didn’t expect it. Or maybe she should but tried avoiding until then. Maybe it was the fact that she finally felt safe that it became a thing.

When she first met Grunhilda, helping her seemed like a simply decent thing to do. Something that one ought to do simply because it was the right thing. Maybe her own situation influenced her own feeling towards the big girl. But, after all they went through the simple thought of something happening to Grunhilda turned the food in her stomach.

Not to mention that Gilda first thought of herself as the savior, but that had obviously changed when Grunhilda, simply put, saved her life. Yes, some would say that she also caused the problem to begin with, but she went beyond most would ever have done to help Gilda.

In the end, both had done some things they might not have in another situation, and while Gilda could say that she didn’t regret it one bit, she was sure Grunhilda didn’t regret it either.

By then Grunhilda had brought another load and placed it in one of the carts… And speaking of strong muscles and tight hindquarters… Those were not exactly the reasons she felt so attracted to Big Girl… But… Damn! She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel something far more torrid than platonic companionship and Grunhilda wasn’t even trying, ever since… For a while. She didn’t know where it had started, but it was certainly there since the large griffoness intruded in her dreams of a large bathtub.

She had to wonder if Grunhilda felt the same way. Once or twice, Gilda had felt like she did, and she wanted her to, but she couldn’t be exactly sure with that thrall thing in the other’s head all the time.

You recognize that she needs you. Your problem, however, is still treating her as though she is incapable of making her own decisions, just as you were with griffons that forfeit their lives for their beliefs.

The voice in her head startled Gilda and a couple of griffons sitting at a nearby table gave her a confused stare. She blushed and did her best not to look at them. Yet, The Harpy was right. She did treat Grunhilda a bit as though she was a child. But she also liked to believe that since she had finally accepted her ‘thrall thing’ they could move on from that.

The voice didn’t speak to her anymore and Gilda let out a small sigh. Why was she so skittish around that subject?

Not long after she had finished the tasty treats the owners of the restaurant had offered her, the blacksmith arrived with… Was that armor? It was a peytral, whatever that was anyways. She really only knew the name because the pony princesses wore those things and she saw the name in a newspaper. Theirs was supposed to be filled with all sorts of protective spells and she supposed that the rich griffon that had commissioned that one got his inspiration from theirs.

Anyways, he put it on the floor and held it standing with a paw along with wearing a wide and proud smile. She could see why. That thing was definitely different though it looked pristine and not like it had recently been messed with at all. And it looked like the right size for Grunhilda and the engraving showed The Harpy. That guy was good, money well spent for sure.

She reached into the backpack and then into the leather bag with the money which she dropped on his open paw with a grin and didn’t even worry about giving him the larger coins. “Looks awesome!”

“Thank you.” He nodded with a pleased smile, closing his paw on the coins she gave him and then dumping them on the large pocket in his apron. “We should see if it will fit your friend. I can make any adjustments when we arrive in Wayfarer’s Rest.”

“Cool.” She agreed, running her finger on the cold metal and the magic in it made her a little tingly. “They should be wrapping up soon, I guess.”

He agreed with a nod, and they walked outside after she thanked the owners of the restaurant. He carried the peytral for her on his back and it took a few minutes, while the sun got high in the sky behind the clouds, but the caravanner griffons eventually finished loading up the carts and Grunhilda returned to Gilda as they talked to their boss.

“I think we’re done, Miss Gilda!” She didn’t even sound tired.

“Great, Grunhilda. This is for you.” Gilda gestured to the peytral the blacksmith held to his paws to show her. “You need some sort of protection too if we’re gonna be fighting to protect the caravan.”

She made an impressed ‘ooooh’ with huge eyes and her wings flared. “Pretty!”

The blacksmith griffon laughed and held out the peytral. “Allow me, ma’am.”

He placed it around her neck and Grunhilda sat to take a good look at it, rubbing her paws on it and she giggled, flapping her wings enthusiastically. “Thanks, Miss Gilda! I love it!”

“I’m glad you like it, Grunhilda. Here you go.” Gilda smiled warmly at her, pawing over her stuff.

“See if it fits well enough, ma’am.” The blacksmith told Grunhilda. “With time you might notice that it could fit a bit better, and I can make adjustments once we arrive at Wayfarer’s Rest.”

“Thanks mister!” She hopped and smiled at him. “I love it! But I will tell you if it needs adjusting!”

Meanwhile, it seemed as though Mister Gillian was wrapping up with his employees as they covered the carts with large and thick cloths before tying them around the frame of each cart. The blacksmith left Gilda and Grunhilda to deal with his own stuff and, finally, the two griffonesses approached the talking griffons by the carts.

Mister Gillian gave his griffons some more instructions and decided who would pull the carts. Someone said that Grunhidla should pull one, the heaviest, but he shot down the idea because Grunhilda was supposed to fight if there were trouble.

As soon as they approached, he turned to Gilda. “We’ll walk until the edge of the city, join up with the others and fly on out. Not too high, just enough for an easier travel. We’ll camp for lunch, just a quick thing, and then we’ll be off again until the nightfall. We’re heavily loaded, so we should arrive at Wayfarer’s Rest by nightfall in the second day. And just in case someone must know, you will get paid next morning. Any questions?”

Griffons glanced at each other, and nobody seemed concerned with anything, so Gillian nodded. “Let’s move our asses then. The sooner we leave town, the sooner we can fly and make a good speed.”

He took the lead with the two griffons that kept guard earlier following and the four griffon-pulled carts followed as Gilda and Grunhilda took up the rear. The blacksmith had changed to a traveling attire and so did his sons, and they walked by the carts.

“You sure you’re okay?” She asked Grunhilda. “It was a lot of stuff that you carried.”

“I’m okay!” The other giggled and her step sprung happily by Gilda’s side. “I think I miss Snow Mountains!”

“You think?” Gilda smiled with a caring, yet confused frown.

Grunhilda stopped bouncing so much as she walked and took a finger to her beak. “I was too young to be sure… I think I miss it…”

That made Gilda chuckle. “I guess we’re gonna find out soon enough.”

Then she frowned. “Uh… Is there gonna be anyone angry at me over the thrall thing?”

“I don’t think so…” Grunhilda didn’t sound all too sure either, with a frown of her own.

Gilda decided that it would just be a waste of time to think about that, but they remained in silence the rest of the way until they reached the road that connected the city to the manor and that circled around the fountain in front of the mansion’s gates before veering off into the wilderness.

The rest of the caravan waited for them there with six more carts loaded with stuff and griffons already strapped to them, two more guards, a male and a female griffons that looked like siblings.

And a pony.

A unicorn lost in the middle of all those griffons in a griffon city, right next to a region where they hated ponies. What the heck?

Also, Gia and her thrall, Geary, both with travel attire in the form of capes, but he also carried a leather satchel across his chest, an axe, and a round shield on his back.

“So, I guess we’ll be traveling together.” Gia deadpanned at Gilda when she approached. “I suppose that is good.”

Then she made a mocking grimace. “I also suppose that I should be safer traveling with the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Since Gilda didn’t answer, and instead stared at her with contempt as though she was a bratty child, Gia amended with a sorrowful sigh. “Sorry. I’m in a bad mood. None of that was your fault.”

“Eh, it’s okay.” Gilda shrugged and waved a paw at her. She really didn’t have anything against Gia. Maybe that would be an opportunity for them to try and know each other again. “Say, uh… What’s with the pony?”

Gia looked at him too. “Beats me!”

Pale amber coat with a light gray wavy mane and vivid violet eyes. She couldn’t see his cutie mark because he wore one of those horsey blankets that covered his body and wrapped around with a pair of tan saddlebags. The blanket was purple with some golden buttons he finished fastening just as he noticed Gilda watched him. And glasses, giant round glasses, because of course.

“Oh! Hello!” He waved a leg at her. “Nice to meet you. You must be Lady Gilda!”

First, she didn’t like the fact that a random pokehead knew her name. Last time that happened, she almost died. Second, it was even worse when he pulled a notebook and a pencil from one of his saddlebags with his telekinetic magic. Maybe it was Gilda’s budding magical senses, but that thing irritated her like it was a fly buzzing around in her head.

Flashing a huge, very ‘pony’ smile at her, he spoke again. “I’ve heard some amazing things about you.”

As if that wasn’t enough, he spoke with a very weird version of the contemporary Griffonese that sounded like the High Griffonese she had gotten herself used to, but not quite. It just put her on edge.

“I hear that you are from Griffonstone and that you have become quite an important member of… Something I can’t quite grasp. It has given you a lot of importance to the local griffons in days. Not to mention that last night was… Uh… Interesting.” He grinned at her and meant to speak more, but she interrupted him.

“You lost, dude?” She spoke in Common Equestrian and gave him her best unfriendly glare with a frown, but that either didn’t register with him or he just ignored it.

“Oh, no, ma’am!” He retained his friendly ponyness and switched to the Common Equestrian too. It just sounded better on his big clumsy lips than the melodical griffon language. “I came here to study this interesting culture of the northerner griffons. It seems that Canterlot University has finally grown an appetite for information surrounding your culture after The Lion slayed that undead dragon in Greenleaf some months ago! There clearly is something interesting and momentous happening in this place. You are quite relevant. Mind telling me of your story?”

“Yes. I mind.” She replied as curtly as she could. Yes, she was curious, but she didn’t want to talk to him!

Griffons just listened to him with different levels of annoyance and disdain. Finally, Mister Gillian spoke. “Pony’s paying a hefty sum, so he’s coming with us. If anyone has a problem, they can stay behind and wait for the next caravan. Hop aboard, Professor Temple.”

A young griffon lady, lime-colored with cyan chest and head tapped an empty spot in the cart she sat on. He thanked her and hopped onboard while Gia and her thrall hopped onboard another cart and found themselves a comfortable place.

The whole caravan summed up some ten carts and at least the same number of passengers: the pony, Gia and Geary, the blacksmith and his sons, as well as a pair of traveling griffons Gilda didn’t know. Not considering the guards and Mister Gillian’s workers.

And with that they took flight. Gillian took the lead, and they were officially off, quickly gaining speed and leaving Thunderpeak behind. A lengthy cliff separated two levels of the dark colored ground covered in yellowish and sparse grass. They took a right past the manor’s grounds and down the cliff Stormrend overlooked to a comfortable altitude and kept going. Surrounded in rolling prairies of black, yellows and browns under the gray clouds as far as the eye could see. Rocky outcroppings here and there with a few groupings of yellowing coniferous trees.

If anything, Gilda always thought the stony mounds interleaved with green prairies of Griffonstone were nice enough, and both seemed very different from the lush greens of the pony lands. But she found in the cold mountains of the border a more pleasant beauty than Griffonstone’s dirty landscape and the chill in the air much more refreshing.

Although she remembered that in King Grover’s time Griffonstone was a beautiful place, at least in some times of the year and griffons had made irrigation systems, it always seemed to have been a metropolitan, civilized area, in contrast to the wild north.

But Gilda wasn’t there to admire the terrain. She was supposed to keep watch and to look tough flying next to the airborne carts, so she did as the griffons that minded their safety. Grunhilda did the same, putting forth a serious frown, but keeping close to Gilda.

She wanted to talk to Gia, maybe try another shot at a friendship. Or maybe some sort of alliance… Something. But she figured that this wasn’t the time.

Next Chapter: Undying Hatred Estimated time remaining: 22 Hours, 30 Minutes