Gilda and Grunhilda walked along the corridor that led back to the bath’s reception. Their feet tip-tapped at the stony floor and their steps echoed a bit at the solid walls. The air was damp, and it made their steps sound louder and wetter with the pooled water on the floor. But that didn’t distract from the general good mood that remained from the relaxing bath.

Gilda grinned and bumped her hip against her friend’s as they walked. Grunhilda giggled and did the same. But their teasing stopped when they reached the facility’s entrance. The innkeeper’s thrall welcomed them with his professionally stoic stare.

“Your possessions have been left in your room, Lady Gilda. Do you need anything else?”

“Nah. I’m cool.” She took a quick glance at Grunhilda. “Tell the others we’ll be eating. Or something.”

He nodded in silence and Gilda started towards the door, followed by Grunhilda, back to the inn’s main hall. A griffonness that likely was one of the innkeeper’s daughters met them. She was covered in a bluish-gray coat and with silvery feathers in her chest and head. Her vivid blue eyes and a pleasant smile made her a nice griffon to look at.

She had a tray on her back, and she grabbed it approaching Gilda. Offering her red scarf, washed, smelling subtly of flowers, and neatly folded with the brooch of the griffon wings up. Also, a huge smile on her gray beak.

“Hey, thanks!” Gilda took it with a smile of her own and properly donned it, raising her beak. “Feels nice!”

Then, the other griffoness left the tray on a nearby table and changed to a graver expression. “Lady Gilda, please forgive my brother. He’s not the brightest in the family, but he rarely does anything with ill intent.”

“You know…” Gilda glared at her. “It was my friend he offended, not me.”

The griffon lady blinked at her and then stared at Grunhilda. “Oh. Of course! Sorry. Well, I want to apologize for my brother. He’s rather dumb, but he didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s okay…” Grunhilda awkwardly rubbed her foreleg on the other, sitting next to Gilda, looking away. “It hurt a little, but it’s okay now.”

The bluish griffoness nodded and turned back to Gilda. “Well, we had the feasting hall set up because mamma wants our special guests to have a great time. Some of your employees are already there!”

So now she had employees too? Ok! Gilda was not going to complain, so she grinned at the griffon lady. “Awesome. Let’s go, Grunhilda.”

It was past the large doors in the end of the inn’s main hall and ‘Feasting Hall’ was a good name, as it was indeed a hall. The feasting part came from the long tables covered in foods and drinks. Meads, wines and beers of different colors, roasted meats, potatoes and some dishes Gilda didn’t know. Still sizzling and steaming in their skewers or plates. Not heavy meats, but small cuts of fish and fowl, some fruits and even one of two types of rustic cakes that seemed lifeless compared to the ones ponies usually made.

And that was not mentioning the rich tables covered with golden thread on blue silk. That was the sort of thing that they probably didn’t use often. It filled Gilda with a sense of the reverence they held for her, even if she didn’t show it outwardly.

Toward the back wall, in between the tables, was a giant fire pit with a whole caribou. Skinned and cleaned of innards, roasting with two griffon guys that kept it spinning above the tall fire. It kept licking the meat and the smell of burning fat wet Gilda’s beak. The slowly rolling thing held her gaze for a little too long until her stomach burned, and she became too aware of the drool in her beak.

She coughed into her fist with Grunhilda giving her a stare.

“Can we eat something, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda giggled at her. “I’m starving!”

“Sure.” Gilda nodded. “Help yourself. I wanna talk to Mister Gillian.”

“Okay.” The other replied in her typical obedient demeanor and with a nod. Then she pranced herself over to the caribou and talked to the two griffons. That was probably a good thing as it dawned on Gilda that there was a good chance Grunhilda might have not ventured to talk to other griffons without her if she didn’t encourage her.

She did squint a little at the acutely noticeable fact that Grunhilda wasn’t clinging to her anymore.

She frowned. Hummed and growled a little, turning her attention elsewhere. The tables included varied tableware and several jugs of water and small towels, but nothing fancy as the restaurant in Canterlot. On the contrary, utensils were bucolic, made of iron and the glass was not as pure as the crystal. Yet, everything was tidy and clean.

To the left side, in the back, was a small stage. Little more than a platform above the thick wooden floor of the hall, but more than enough for the enthusiastic griffons and griffonesses playing a happy and energetic song. They used similar instruments to the ones Gilda had heard in the restaurant in Canterlot, but the melody was very different. It made her want to dance rather than listen calmly.

The room wasn’t crowded, but it was full of griffons talking, dancing, and having fun in general. Meanwhile the innkeeper’s family mingled with them, merrily offering more food and drinks. The amount of alcohol and food circulating in that room was impressive.

On the back of the hall the stony wall held a fancy wooden carving, painted with a rusty green shade, showing a griffon with a diadem on his head and a sword pointed down at the ground while he stood above it. Old and stern, complete with a cape in the wind, he didn’t look like the Emperor or Lord Gilad. Maybe it was some important griffon to the town?

Some of her ‘employees’ littered the hall. They talked excitedly, sampled the foods in the tables as well as the drinks. A couple of them nodded at her presence and she nodded back while scanning the room for Gillian.

The light from the torches in the walls had a flickering quality to it and added to the smell of roasting meat and the fire. It made the place seem more authentically northerner.

The whole bath thing was nice and all, but it was the atmosphere that really got to her. She smiled, lifting her beak up and her eyes closed for a second. It was the sort of personality that the southern holds didn’t seem to have and that she never knew she would enjoy so much.

As the day ended and it got cold outside, so did the interior of the inn. But the fire kept the air at a comfortable temperature. No wonder they also had one of those in the main hall. She would have to get used to the smell of burning wood and roasting meat.

The innkeeper was there too, making sure everything was satisfactory and she gave a giant grin as soon as she saw Gilda. One of her daughters approached too, carrying a tray on her back with some food in it.

“I hope you appreciated your bath!” The owner flapped her wings once. “Please, don’t hesitate to call if anything is amiss or out of place!”

“Hey. Sure thing.” Gilda smiled back at her. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Tuna fillets grilled with lemon and rosemary?” Her daughter grinned and offered Gilda the tray filled with the whole fishes, open in half and cleaned, grilled, and drenched in lemon and sprinkled with the herbs. “It’s one of our specialties!”

Used to seeing fishes for eating in the form of white, flaky meat, it was awkward to see grilled fillets. Apparently, the griffons in the south had a tendency of eating tuna after so much processing they could barely be identified as fish, if one did not know what their meat looked like. One would not find a whole fish in the market, tuna much less, of course. Even when they cut the fish up, the northerners knew how to deal with meat better. Heck, Gilda was so hungry she could eat a whole tuna.

And that was why her beak watered again. She barely took a moment to think, thanking the young griffoness. She took one of the fillets and swallowed it whole. It was as delicious as she had imagined, juicy and oily with the lemon and rosemary gracing her tastes.

With a final smile the owner and her daughter left. The cyan griffon that was Gillian presented himself to her with a humble nod right after. “Lady Gilda.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Gilda greeted Gillian with a neutral tone, still licking the oil from her fingers. Better to let him speak to her than ask what happened.

“I had to use your name…” He spoke unapologetically, but still respectfully. “Things got dangerous after the Madam Loremaster decided that she wanted to know who was responsible for the corn syrup. It was rather…”

He sighed. “I don’t know what to say. To be very honest… The whole thing is silly to me.”

“Chill, dude.” Gilda shrugged at him, keeping her voice low. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t really care. If the northerners are chill with you walking away because you’re going to help me, that is fine by me. I wanted to ask you anyway. I promise I’ll let you go, or something once it’s all sorted out.”

He nodded. “Sounds fair, Lady Gilda.”

“Just chill for now.” She waved dismissively at him. “We’ll get the stuff we’ll need to get to Griffindell tomorrow.”

“I anticipated that.” He showed a small, proud smile in his yellow beak. “Got my boys to scout the market and find us a decent supplier. Up to Frozenlake, it’s easy enough. Beyond the guides say it becomes more and more dangerous the further north you go. The Sky Sentry makes rounds and sometimes they help caravans other than just hunting monsters. I have only gone as far as Frozenlake. Once.”

As he spoke, Gilda could see Grunhilda beyond him. She sat by the spitroast, scarfing down small cuts from the caribou, and hissing at any poor griffon that approached her to talk. Gilda couldn’t suppress a small smile.

“So, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shifted her eyes back to Gillian as he concluded something Gilda had completely missed. “Not to mention that between you, Grunhilda, the mercenary brothers, and the two ex-GSA soldiers we should be fine.”

“Awesome.” She had no idea what he had said, but he wasn’t worried, so she didn’t worry either.

He moved away and her eyes found Grunhilda again, gobbling a piece of the caribou. Gilda’s paw rubbed her jaw as her beak formed a naughty smile. Maybe she shouldn’t tell Grunhilda anything and just enjoy the fact that she had a particularly beautiful griffoness that literally considered herself the closest thing a griffon could come from being another’s property.

Why did that make her feel so damn giddy?

She blushed. But fortunately, griffons weren’t paying attention to her. The smile on her beak turned to a naughty smirk. It would be hers the joy of teaching her innocent friend all the naughty things she knew. It almost made her giggle and hop around like a little cub with a new toy!

Speaking of ‘toys’, it was a shame they didn’t have any.

“What is it with the creepy smile?” Gia was suddenly next to her, with her typical superior jerk grin. She wore her Loremaster blue satin cape and looked much better than when they arrived. The bath had done her good too. Geary was next to her, mindlessly watching and swallowing small chicken fillets swamped in a brick-red sauce he carried around in a plate.

“What about you?” Gilda grinned back at Gia. “Made a new friend in the bath?”

“Eh…” Gia grimaced. “Just… Fooling around… You know. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah.” Gilda pressed on with her grin. “How was it that she said? ‘Non-sexual, totally non-lesbian way’?”

“It’s not a crime, alright?!” Gia raised her voice and let her feathers ruffle a few times in excited upstarts.

“Hey. I ain’t judging.” Gilda poked a talon on Gia’s chest, snickering at her discomfort.

“Yeah, well…” Gia frowned a little and went back to her usual jerkiness. “Be sure to take a good rest, hero. It’s not gonna be a nice stroll to Griffindel. It’s usually not easy, but we’re gonna be hauling a pony with us. You can expect the Windigos will be going out of their way to make our lives miserable. You might as well be prepared to lose a few of whoever is crazy enough to travel up there with us.”

“Mister Gillian and his caravan.” Gilda told her dryly. “But I’ll make sure that nobody is going to die.”

“Oh. Oh-ho.” Gia mocked her with more than noticeable jealousy. “I’m sorry! I forgot you are the chosen of The Harpy. Gee. What was I thinking?”

Gia knocked herself on the side of the head. “Duh. She’s not gonna let the Windigos chew on her favorite griffon now, is She?”

Gilda held her intense glare at Gia for a second or two until she stopped being a bitch. The green Loremaster sighed and looked away with a blush. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little jealous. It’s not your fault my scheme failed… It’s just, I was supposed to be rich by now.”

“I thought you were rich…” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “What about that manor you lived in?”

“That wasn’t mine.” Gia waved a paw dismissively. “It belongs to Lady Gwendolen.”

“Huh… Gilda scratched the curve of her beak with a talon. “Wild North Teleportation’s gotta give a lot of money.”

“Hah!” Gia laughed. “You have no idea. With the amount of money she’s funneling thanks to Chancellor Gail’s incompetence and all the fronts under her name… She’s got enough money to bank a war! Which is probably what she’s going to do anyways.”

“It would probably draw too much attention if it all belonged to The Lion, right?” Gilda mused.

Gia shook her head. “The reason nobody bats an eye is that nobody really understands what is going on. She has Loremasters infiltrated all over the place and they disrupt intelligence. Not even we usually know what the others are doing.”

“I wouldn’t be too surprised if she had Loremasters ‘working' for The Mare herself!” Gia concluded with huge, shocked eyes. “I practically ruled Thunderpeak and I had no idea that Lady Gaetana was one of us!”

Gilda didn’t mean to belittle Gia, but she had the distinct impression Gia wasn't a particularly good Loremaster. She kept a blank expression listening to the other though.

Gia, after that, gave Gilda an earnest smile. “So, the gist is… It's not gonna be easy. We should rest, prepare, and enjoy the hospitality.”

“Yeah.” Gilda gave her a small smile. “I can do that. Just don’t get in a fight for dominance with the local Loremaster, or something, okay? I’ll need you to get to Griffindell.”

Gia frowned in a very annoyed way. “You have no idea.”

“But don’t worry.” Gia grinned back at her. “Messing with an old Loremaster like that is signing your own death sentence.”

Then Gia turned to Geary. “Come on, Geary. I need to find a place to hide from Gelinda.”

Gilda eyes followed the pair until they vanished in the mass of joyous griffons. Then she walked to the caribou. Quite a few griffons sat around it, talking, and eating. Many of them were locals and they talked to the griffons from the caravan as though they were curious. Gruff griffons, somewhat larger than the southerners, some of them even wearing beautiful animal skins in the form of capes, scarfs, and hats. The females seemed to prefer fox and rabbits, while the males mostly went with wolf or bear. But that was as far as Gilda’s ability to distinguish the different skins went.

On her way to Grunhilda, Gilda saw the lime-colored Gil. It wasn’t obvious what exactly was the process that went on inside her head, but she was clearly above all that drama. Additionally, her ‘bonding’ with Gertha seemed less random when she was next to Gertha’s brother, the wine-colored Guile.

Gilda stopped to watch like it was one of those trainwrecks one couldn’t tear their eyes from, despite how horrific it was.

It was a level of subtlety that rivaled Rainbow Dash’s old boasts of her flying skills. The griffoness literally walked over to him with a racy smirk and a pair of flagons ready to spill beer. Her plumage was almost drenched in it, and he blinked at her with a goofy smile when she offered him one of those. He then proceeded to drink the whole thing in a long sequence of gulps that she mimicked as best as she could.

Her cheeks blushed when she let herself smack against his side and said something, walking her fingers on his chest. He showed a confused frown and she giggled, looking up to him.

Best to leave them to whatever that was. Apparently, she was taking care of the things the old Loremaster had told her about. Gilda couldn’t condemn her: Gil was dealing with her problems however she could.

Not unlike Gilda, come to think of it.

She too was too deep in now to turn back. She changed. She adapted to her new situation. Other griffons would have to deal with that too. She frowned. That was what The Harpy wanted of her. Of all griffons. To adapt. To become better.

She just wasn’t sure if Gil was doing it the right way.

Gilda frowned. Each fought with whichever weapons they had and Gil as throwing her charms at the big griffon that could protect her. She supposed she would see more of it as they travelled. Although Gil better not hope she’d drag Gertha’s brother to stay in Wayfarer’s Rest or something of the sort. Maybe talking to Gertha would be a good idea.

Shifting her focus from getting to Grunhilda to finding Gertha, Gilda’s head swiveled as she stood up a little on her hindlegs to find the mercenary and it wasn’t that hard to see above other griffons considering she had become slightly taller than most of them.

But what she found was her unicorn charge. He sat by himself at a small table covered in fruits and even some greens, along with a selection of juices. For some reason someone decided that the pony shouldn’t drink alcohol. And another had stuck a piece of paper on his horn that said ‘Gilda’s friend’.

“You okay?” She approached, eyeing the fruits and green stuff. He seemed unharmed too. “They treating you alright?”

“Yes!” He smiled pleasantly. “I doubt they would be very friendly if not for you, but I am not complaining. I hope that going to Griffindell will help as much as you think, too. I hear Lady Gwendolen doesn’t like ponies that much.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be useful.” Gilda sat across the table from him and rested an elbow. “Do you know anything that might help our travel? Some sort of ancient pony knowledge about the Windigos or something?”

“Yes.” He spoke seriously. “Don’t go near the Frozen North.”

She gave him a angry stare and he chuckled. “Sorry. There really isn’t a lot of ‘knowledge’ about the Windigos. All I know of them is that the old ponies summoned them because the three tribes didn’t play nice with each other. It is a point of contention with the northerners that ponies summoned them as a weapon against them, but we ponies really don’t know about that. It might be true, but there isn’t a whole lot we can do about that now. Although I don’t believe that. The Windigos almost destroyed us.”

What if, and she might be going insane there for a second… But what if ponies and griffons joined forces against the Windigos? It seemed that The Harpy and Celestia hated each other, but what if they let go of that past and led their sides together against the Windigos?

Anyways, she couldn’t do anything about that while in the party. Maybe once she reached Griffindell. The Harpy didn’t even comment on those thoughts. She was probably busy with something.

And so was Gilda. Leaving the table, she found Gertha when the pink griffoness laughed in the middle of the others. The pink warrior griffoness sat with two of the caravanner griffons by the side table with the chicken cuts and the booze. She giggled-snorted at something one of them said and let her flagon filled with mead bang against the table. Several large drops spilled to the rich tablecloth as she wheezed and laughed, resting her forehead on the table while slapping it with her paw.

Great. Apparently, her brother was on his own.

Gilda grabbed a flagon with mead from the selection at a nearby table. Smelled them first, trying to find the sweetest and settled with a thick and clear one. After one hearty gulp she smiled and went to Grunhilda. Other griffons had congregated around the caribou and Grunhilda, but she didn’t pay them any attention.

And when Gilda arrived, she had just gobbled a piece of the meat and started licking her fingers. Wrapping her tongue around them, and lapping every little nook for the oily fat from the meat.

Gilda shook her head and Grunhilda stared at her. “Hum… Is something wrong?”

Gilda grinned. “Everything is as perfect as it could be.”

The confusion on Grunhilda’s eyes told her that she didn’t understand it at all, but her friend just smiled and giggled. “Great then!”

Gilda laughed a little, sitting close to Grunhilda and it didn’t escape her that one of her ‘employees’ left to give her space. The griffon with the big knife cut a slice of the caribou’s hindquarter for her, offering it at the point of his tool.

“Thanks!” She smiled at him before she ripped a chunk of it to swallow. The taste was divine. The salt was a bit too much, but it added to the flavor, even if it could hurt the soft insides of her mouth. That was how griffons were supposed to eat!

She nodded at the two griffons taking care of the meat as they kept watching her intently. Both smiled happily when she gave them a positive evaluation of their food. Some of the griffons nearby even cheered.

Gia approached Gilda again, bringing Geary in tow and Gertha came with her brother and Gil practically attached to him. Either Gertha was too drunk to notice, or she didn’t care anyways. The former seemed more likely, judging by the way she kept giggling and how she swayed from one side to the other. The two ex-soldiers joined them as well and they too enjoyed some of the rustic roasted caribou and a couple of beers. They didn’t talk much, but they wanted to be a part of whatever was happening there.

Griffons gravitated towards Gilda. Gertha babbled something unintelligible, way too fast and way too excited, jumping up and down so much most of her drink ended on the floor. Yet the two griffons talking to her didn’t seem concerned by that. Meanwhile Gia and the older Loremaster talked about something over their drinks and Geary stuffed his face with more chicken and that red sauce he seemed to like so much. Always keeping next to Gia.

Mister Gillian kept his distance, probably spooked by Madam Gelinda and that was fine for Gilda. Better to avoid any unnecessary attrition because she seemed dangerous. The pony also kept his distance, content to mind his food on his table, although a couple of the local griffons had approached him to talk.

“Hey. We’ll be going on a dangerous trip, right?” Gertha’s brother, Guile talked loudly, above the noise of merry griffons, holding Gil next to him with his free foreleg and his beer on the other. “I suppose we really should have a lot of fun, then?”

“It can’t be that difficult.” One of the ex-soldier mercenaries shrugged. “I mean, we need griffons to make it there if we want to win a war, right?”

Suddenly everyone was ‘we’. Gilda took a gulp of her mead and listened to the conversation.

“Griffons are supposed to be strong.” Gia explained with her bored expression. “If they can’t make it to the North, then they’re of no use to The Lion.”

“That is not entirely correct.” The older Gelinda glared at Gia before she turned to the others. “Most griffons needn’t make it all the way to Griffindell. They’ll be assimilated by the Northerner cities along the way, mostly Brokenhorn and Frozenlake, but also smaller villages. New villages are being founded to accommodate these griffons and they have time to acclimate. They typically visit Griffindell a year later or so, usually after the Gathering Storm festival.”

“The Gathering Storm.” The other ex-soldier mused. “Sounds ominous.”

“It is a treat to the newcomers.” Gelinda showed a naughty smile. “The less said, the better, but it makes hopeless simpletons see that Our Mother has a higher purpose to them. If you hurry, you could reach Frozenlake in time for the festival. Lady Geena is particularly known for the feasts she organizes. They only lose in pomp and luxury to Lady Gwendolen’s.”

“Hey, don’t you know this Geena, Grunhilda?” Gilda elbowed the white griffon next to her, still holding on to her cut of the caribou, and the other nodded, gulping down her piece of the meat.

“She’s really nice!” Grunhilda chirped happily before she frowned. “Hum… But I was really small when I met her. I don’t really remember a lot. But I really liked her cape with swan feathers.”

“Hard to imagine you being small!” Gertha snorted and then laughed a lot more than her joke would warrant, but she clearly had no problem with that, neither the now three griffon guys hovering next to her.

As Gilda gobbled down the last bit of the meat she held, one of the innkeeper’s daughters brought Grunhilda something. She took the tray from her back and offered the glass goblet with purple liquid to her. “Here you go, Miss Grunhilda!”

“Thank you!” The big griffoness smiled and held the goblet in her paws before taking it to her beak and taking a good gulp from it.

“I never imagined you would be one for wine, Grunhilda.” Gilda smiled even if the wine smelled weird.

“Ah…” The other smiled, still holding the glass in both paws. “It’s not wine. It’s just grape juice!”

Gilda stared at her with a blank expression while Grunhilda took another mouthful from the goblet. She grinned over her drink. “I like juice.”

“No. No. No!” Gertha approached them with a noticeable alcoholic blush and a bit of a wobble, pointing a talon at Grunhilda. “No way. You’re an adult griffon. You gotta drink adult drinks.”

“I don’t think this is any of your business.” Gia interjected, holding her own goblet with actual wine. Geary was still next to her, still stuffing his face with chicken.

Gertha insisted. “But! But… Listen to me! She’s like… She’s souring the party!”

“No, she’s not and it is still none of your business.” Gia growled while Gelinda just watched next to her.

“Well, I am going to make it my business!” Gilda put a paw on her chest. “This stuff is the traditional drink of the northerner griffons, right?”

She put up her flagon. “And Grunhilda is a certified northerner griffon. A pure-breed Nartani. Therefore, she’s gotta try this.”

Grunhilda stared at Gilda’s flagon with the mead. “Hum… I’m not sure about this…”

“You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to do what she tells you.” The older Loremaster, Madam Gellinda came closer with a bit of an alcoholic flush of her own and one of those metallic flagons filled with wine.

Gilda rolled her eyes. All these drunk griffons. She was right though, and Gilda offered her flagon to Grunhilda again. Her friend put the goblet on the nearby table and held the flagon in her paws too.

“For Our Mother’s sake!” Gelinda growled and showed her flagon again. “Hold it like an adult! You’re not a kitten.”

Grunhilda did as she was told and held the flagon properly by the handle with a frown before taking it to her beak. She took one tiny sip of it and Gilda almost expressed her displeasure. But before she did, Grunhilda raised the thing and took a proper gulp of it.

“I don’t know…” Grunhilda frowned, looking down at the flagon, then at Gilda. “This thing tastes awful, but I kind of like it?”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of adult beverages, Grunhilda.” Gilda gave her a serene smile that caused the white griffoness to stare at her drink again.

Then Grunhilda took another swig of the drink while griffons surrounded them. Anticipation in the air was palpable. And then another sip, and finally she took a decent gulp. And another. Some of the mead washed down her neck to her fluffy chest. Because of course it would and caused Gilda a small shudder.

Gilda’s beak clicked, trembling a little at the sight. Then Grunhilda put the thing down with a huge smile, licking her beak. “This is great!”

“Hah!” Gilda cried. “Told ya you’d like it!”

“Can I have some more?” Grunhilda beamed at the innkeeper's daughter and gave her the flagon.

“Me too!” Gilda raised a finger, while standing close to Grunhilda, also grinning.

The mead didn’t take long to arrive, and the innkeeper griffons kept it coming. The caribou was right there too. Conversation came easily.

Gertha kept babbling about random things that went from party dresses for griffons to kinds of wood used in construction, now accompanied by three griffon guys and a local grifffoness wearing a fox pelt cape. The two ex-soldiers kept to themselves and talked to the caravanners occasionally. Guile was more interested in talking about his adventures to Gil, that remained attached to him while he made bold gestures and brave expressions.

The two Loremasters talked amongst themselves in reserved tones, and it was difficult to read them, despite Gia's constant annoyance.

Things changed as the meeting progressed and formalities were forgotten. The northerner griffons had welcomed Gillian’s caravanners and they mingled as though they had belonged there their whole lives.

The lively music shifted as the playing griffons stopped to eat, but it remained a constant happy background to all the festivity.

Gilda was more interested in Grunhilda and sharing a few flagons with her was more than enough to cloud her thoughts. Several cuts of the prime meat sated their hunger meanwhile. They talked about their journey and what little Grunhilda remembered of Frozenlake. Nothing important, but more than enough to let Gilda just listen to her talk excitedly about anything, such as the actual frozen lake where the locals fished for trouts.

Other griffons joined and the two ex-soldiers seemed happy to talk to Gilda and Grunhilda about what little they knew of the north.

Gilda listened and looked at the other griffons in the hall. They cheered and made a mess, with raised paws and some flapping of wings. Some of them played games and others simply talked. Loudly, boisterously. Some of them retreated to the corners out of the way to flirt and make out. Excited griffons having fun and a lot of it centered around Gertha and her happy abandon.

Gelinda and Gia teased each other. Gilda could see in their sparkling eyes and razor-sharp grins. Geary just hovered next to them, apparently with an endless supply of that chicken.

Along the shadows and out of the way, Gil and Guile were an example of the flirting griffons. She sat against a corner, holding a sultry smile, and touching his chest, talking in hushed words. Yeah… That one was hooked.

Do not judge them, Child. The southerners lead long and dull lives, but that is not the nature of your race. Griffons are industrious creatures, and their lives are difficult. They should find pleasure in the simplest of things and enjoy their life to the fullest, for it is often also short. That is how griffon lives ought to be. Couples should form at the blink of an eye, driven by lust or by convenience. Fellowships should team and disband as needed or grow in the bonds of honor.

Gilda took a sip of her mead and nodded softly at the words in her head and scanned the room for the griffons she knew.

They are yours now. You have captivated them and while some will seek to benefit from your newfound clout, you will find that some will lay down their lives for you. A wise griffon would learn the ways of such things and gain from it. Clever griffons will both benefit from that, and it is far past the time that you profited too.

Gilda’s beak formed a small smile at the opening of her flagon, and she watched Gertha’s display of shameless dancing with her accompanying griffons. Mister Gillian talked quietly to one of the northerners with a white wolf fur cape. And Grunhilda’s happy babbling to the two ex-soldiers, while still clinging to Gilda.

Funny that close to Gilda she wasn’t so unfriendly to other griffons. Well, there was the alcohol too…

After that, it didn’t take much long before Gelinda spoke with a bit of a tired smile. “I don’t mean to sound like your mother, but the journey North is a difficult one, and tomorrow will be a full day of procuring supplies and organizing a caravan.”

Almost on cue Grunhilda yawned and then gave her empty flagon a sad stare. Gilda nodded at the Loremaster and elbowed at her friend. “She’s right. Let’s get some sleep ‘cause we gotta make sure nothing goes wrong tomorrow. And I’d like to depart as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda left the container on the table next to them and followed Gilda.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Gilda nodded at the two ex-soldiers that held up their drinks and nodded at her.

Coming back into the main hall, the innkeeper waited for Gilda with a bit of a tired smile, but still as radiant as it was before. “We got the Grimhammer Suite ready for you and your thrall, Lady Gilda.”

“The Grimhammer Suite? That sounds cool!” Grunhilda giggled.

The innkeeper showed a proud smile. “My father founded this town! You saw him in the feasting hall!”

“He looked kinda cool.” Gilda smiled at her.

“He conquered this land from a brotherhood of bandits under one Blackmane.. Then he built the inn when Lord Garet gifted him the land!” Her smile became happier still. “Then the town started growing next to it and was given the inn’s name!”

“Lord Garet.” Gilda mused and turned to her friend. “Huh… Didn’t you mention him once, Grunhilda?”

“Yes!” Grunhilda piped. “Lord Garet, son of Lord Gildon. He was the Lord of the Black Gates before Lord Gilad, his father, and the fifth-fourth Lord of the Skies.”

There was something really cool about the way the northerners remembered those dudes that Gilda really had come to like. Maybe, one day in the future, griffons would talk like that about her, like Master Galahault had talked about Lady Gaharjet Stormborn ‘The Astrani Star’. Something like ‘Lady Gilda, The Swordmaiden of the Shaddani’, as Lady Gwendolen had called her in her letter.

Anyway, Gilda wasn’t going to complain and just followed the slightly rounder griffoness up the stairs in the main hall. It led straight to a door right out the stairs and on the other side was a sizeable room.

Rustic, grayish masonry walls adorned with all sorts of stuff that ranged from axes to colorful hand-weaved baskets. A low roof of thick beams and masonry that certainly helped keeping the place warm without a fireplace, sturdy caramel wood for floor and sconces holding smokeless torches for a dim and atmospheric lighting. A few pieces of furniture made of hardy wood included a wardrobe, bookshelf, bedside tables flanking a large bed covered in bear skin, and a dresser completed the windowless room.

Gilda let Grunhilda in first, curiously scanning the room while she nodded her satisfaction to the innkeeper and let her close the double door. There was another door that led to a balcony above the main hall and the smell of the central hearth fire came in from it, and a small bed for a single griffon in the corner was probably meant for one’s thrall, or maybe someone’s kid traveling together.

Their possessions were there. Grunhilda’s fox backpack, the fancy box with her bow and hammer, and Gilda’s Mythical was standing against the wall. She touched the blade, and it was warmer than she would have imagined. Somehow it greeted her and hummed softly at her touch. She really ought to get some sort of protection for her. It didn’t seem right to leave the blade exposed like that when she wasn’t wielding it.

She also yearned to let Mythical bite at something other than a griffon she didn’t really want to kill. The thing seemed to beg it of her.

Grunhilda had closed the balcony’s door and sat in the middle of the room, on a small round carpet made of black wolfskin and looked curiously at the ceiling where a rustic iron candelabra hanged with several lit candles.

It was in that moment that Gilda noticed that she was tired. But she was also, finally, alone with Grunhilda and all the tiredness evaporated from her like the steam in the hot bath.

Her beak donned a mischievous smile while her eyes squinted, and she threw the red scarf at their things. She lowered herself on the floor and prowled soundlessly behind her friend, like a predator, until she was so close she could smell Grunhilda’s characteristic, personal smell tempered with the aroma from the mead and the smoky scent that remained from the burning wood.

She stood on her hindlegs, behind the clueless griffoness, still silent as the snowfall, wings flared and open forelegs. She wrapped them around Grunhilda’s chest. Let out a low growl and the tip of her talons pricked her skin under the fluffy feathers.

Grunhilda yelped and almost jumped off the floor, but Gilda didn’t let her any more than she let her wings flare with the surprise. Instead, Gilda whispered huskily at the white griffoness’ ear. “Get yourself on that bed, now… I’m gonna make you mine!”

The way Grunhilda squeaked and tripped over herself almost – almost – made Gilda feel bad. She chortled and chased the other to the bed to pounce on top of her. Before she even noticed what she was doing, Gilda had grabbed Grunhilda’s nape with her paw and pressed herself on top of her back.

Grunhilda did the ‘submissive thing’, letting her chest rest on the furry bed covering with her rump perked up and her wings open flat over the bed. It was the sort of thing nobody taught griffons; they just knew.

Grunhilda also shrieked like Gilda was going to kill her and quivered like the flames in the candles above them. There was that distinctive smell in the air, though. The musky aroma of griffons doing naughty things. They both had been waiting for it a long time, but Gilda understood that the first time wasn’t always the easiest one even in the best circumstances.

“Don’t be scared… I’m not going to hurt you, yet.” Gilda’s beak skimmed the feathers on the side of Grunhilda’s head and her already raspy voice was gruffier yet while her left paw caressed her partner’s neck, holding it softly.

“I’m! I’m not scared!” Grunhilda’s voice came out a trembling whine. “I’ve had lots of boyfriends in Griffonstone! You can do whatever you want!”

Well, that was just… Gilda coughed and laughed, before raising from Grunhilda’s back.

“You sure had!” Gilda snorted and sat behind her friend that stared at her. She wiggled her fingers at Grunhilda. “At least three of them!”

She collapsed on her back, laughing while Grunhilda fumed. “That’s not funny!”

Gilda just laughed. “It so is!”

Grunhilda growled, pushing her chest. It didn’t help because Gilda hugged herself and curled into a tan ball of breathless laughter, leaving the other to glare in sheer impotent rage.

Finally, Gilda managed to stop and catch her breath before she sat in front of her seething friend. Until Grunhilda’s angry glare dissolved into her typical insecure puppy eyes.

“Hum…” Grunhilda held her paws together and whined to herself, letting her eyes aim down. “I ruined the mood, didn’t I?”

Gilda showed her a teasing smile and pushed Grunhilda to fall on her back to the bed with a surprised yelp again.

“Nah…” Gilda smirked at the white griffoness again, climbing on top of her and with a delighted grin at the blush she caused with their sensitive bellies squeezing together. She reached to Grunhilda’s chest and stopped for a second at the two subtle flaws in her plumage. Her fingers passed over the fluffy feathers and her voice turned mellow. “It’s cute… And I’m not with you just because you’re so stupid sexy …”

Her eyes found Grunhilda’s trained on her. “I’d never been so scared in my life. Not even in Griffonstone when those thugs cornered me in the street. If you hadn’t been there…”

Then Gilda showed her teasing smile again. “Sure, it was your fault we were in that situation to begin with…”

Grunhilda glared at her from beneath her.

“Look… Lots of hot and experienced griffons in this place,“ Gilda spoke softly, letting her finger dance amid Grunhilda’s fluffy chest feathers. “But it wasn’t Gertha and her fit body, or Gia and her cute sexiness that snapped that pony like he was a twig. That got hit with a hammer and shot while still managing to rip those mercenary ponies apart to then carry me to Ponyville.”

Grunhilda’s nervous frown relaxed a bit before her paws held Gilda on top of her, speaking softly. “Well, I don’t like to think of what would have happened to me if you hadn’t freed from the hospital…”

Gilda raised her body and held Grunhilda’s paw in hers, stroking her own face with it.

“This is about us…” Gilda concluded as her paw went back to caressing Grunhilda’s chest. “And I don’t care if you are awkward, or if you don’t have experience… Let’s just have fun. Alright?”

“Okay!” Gilda smiled as Grunhilda finally smiled too, shivering sofly, as her voice broke a little with anticipation.

After a second of anxious hesitation, Gilda lowered herself on top of her friend again, but this time their faces touched, their feathers brushed at each other, until her beak finally touched Grunhilda’s cheek. Gilda’s paw brushed over the feathers on her friend’s crest as their beaks clicked softly together.

Grunhilda shivered again when Gilda’s paw glided over her plumage to the velvety white fur on her belly. Their beaks fit together when the tan one pressed her into a kiss and the soft moan Grunhilda let go was needy and muffled. Her body stiffened as Gilda’s paw reached the small mounds in her belly.

Their bodies brushed together as Gilda pressed her weight on her friend and squeezed Grunhida’s teat, ever so slightly teasing her nipple between her delicate fingers. Grunhilda took Gilda in her forelegs and held her tightly against herself. The room filled with muffled moans and groans as well as feathers and fur brushing on each other.

Finally, Gilda broke the kiss, raising her head above to look at her friend’s closed eyes and hanging jaw. A hot and damp moan escaped her when Gilda’s paw unceremoniously reached lower between her friend’s thighs. Grunhilda stiffened again and a shorter moan escaped her when Gilda’s fingers found her delicate lady bits covered in moist, velvety fur.

“Hey, relax, you dweeb.” She whispered with a chuckle through a racy smile and a soft blush that matched her friend’s.

Grunhilda mumbled something in response, and Gilda wasn’t the best lover ever, but she was a decent one that knew well enough how to touch her partner. Her gentle, but insistent fingers explored her friend's entrance and her beak brushed at the soft feathers in her face. Softly pulling at little tufts, little loving griffon kisses of affection.

The white griffoness moaned louder and squirmed at the increasingly urgent caresses while Gilda’s large wings slowly flared up and she pressed her body as insistently against hers. Rubbing and pressing their teats in between their bellies as though she wanted them to melt together. Gilda finally released her own husky moan in between the small kisses and Grunhilda mewled helplessly, grabbing at Gilda’s crest. Her body tensed with a broken moan to relax with another higher pitched squeal.

Breathing heavily and deeply, Grunhilda’s chest moved up and down while she blushed fiercely and turned her face to the side on the bear skin that covered the bed. But Gilda held the feathers in her crest and turned her head to face her, before fitting her beak on hers again. Muffled whimpering competed with ruffling furs and feathers as they squirmed together, and Gilda’s fingers further caressed at Grunhilda’s sensitive folds.

Finally, Gilda raised her body from Grunhilda's and gave her a knowing smile, holding her weight at the other’s chest. Her already raspy voice grew grittier with her labored breathing. “I waited way too long to have you at my mercy, and I liked it way too much.”

About time to do something regarding the needy burning in her own loins, but there really was no hurry. As though she struck at a snake with her forepaw, Gilda plucked Grunhilda's tongue out of her hanging beak and her smile turned wicked while Grunhilda’s eyes grew wide with surprise, and she mumbled incoherently.

“If you wanna play slave, then you better learn how to make me happy!” She grinned wildly at Grunhilda's scared silly eyes and unintelligible acknowledgement while pulling her tongue a little before she let go.

The bigger, but younger griffoness clicked her beak and her eyes shifted to and fro before she focused on Gilda again. “Hum… Okay… I really liked that, though.”

“I’m sure you did.” Gilda poked her beak and made her go cross-eyed and grinned at her. “But it’s my turn now.”

Grunhilda wiggled her hindfeet. “Yes! What should I do?”

Gilda just kept smiling mischievously at her and walked around her while Grunhilda sat. The former set the pillows against the wall and made herself an impromptu throne where she laid on her back against the pillows. She moved slowly and fluidly as the seductive feline she was, making a point of leisurely exposing herself to her friend.

She could say it had the desired effect because Grunhilda’s eyes scanned her up-down in one fluid sweep with her typical dumb expression of cluelessness that made Gilda smile mischievously.

The tuft at the tip of Grunhilda’s tail did sweep from one side to the other, though. And she approached Gilda to sit in front of her. Her nervously shifting eyes still ran over Gilda’s exposed belly and groin. Insecure paws reached and trembly held the fluff in Gilda’s chest.

“What are so nervous about?” Gilda rested her head on the pillow against the wall and pushed her hindpaw on Grunhilda’s chest. Her toes played with her friend’s feathers. Still keeping a teasing smile, she urged the other insistently. “Get on with it already, before I get angry…”

“Hum… What am I supposed to do, though?” Grunhilda gave her a helpless stare and the typical whine of not knowing what to do.

“Use your instincts, dweeb.” Gilda’s smile intensified. “It’s easier if you stop thinking about it. Just do what feels right and we’ll go from there.”

Then she chuckled heartily. “I promise I won’t whip you, yet.”

That got a giggle out of Grunhilda and she was less stiff. Her eyes carried less of her unsure anxiety as she touched Gilda’s fluffy chest, and she rested her weight on her, still bringing her beak closer. She closed her eyes and Gilda welcomed her, touching her back under Grunhilda’s flaring wings.

Their beaks skimmed together again while they held each other tighter. Grunhilda grew bolder, letting her paws travel the length of Gilda’s back and then her thighs. They nibbled at each other, and Gilda held Grunhilda’s head, running her feathers in between her fingers. Grunhilda’s body massaged her own with her soft weight and enticing warmness.

They kissed again, letting their beaks fit together sloppily. Their throaty moans joined the ruffling of fur to become louder when Gruhilda’s fingers found their way between their bodies and Gilda’s thighs, mimicking the other’s earlier actions. An urging moan vibrated in the latter’s throat and convinced Grunhilda that her inexperienced, maybe clumsy fingers did their job properly as much as the way Gilda’s hip inched forward.

The inexperienced griffoness gave a happy smile, distancing her beak a little from Gilda’s, looking at her closed eyes and hanging beak. She nibble-kissed Gilda’s cheek, letting herself a low hum escape her throat, pushing her fingers inside the squishy folds.

The older held at her skin and her talons prickled at it. Grunhilda gasped and squeaked when Gilda stiffened and moaned. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda! Did I hurt you?!”

“No…” Gilda smiled at her, opening her eyes for a bit. “You’re doing great. Come on, you can be rougher with me.”

Grunhilda smiled again and resumed her caresses, watching as Gilda moaned again and squirmed a little, making herself more comfortable in the pillow. She grew bolder and pushed her fingers deeper, licking the lower part of Gilda’s beak. Gilda rewarded with a rumbling moan and a smile.

Her own breath heavy and hot, she still watched Gilda’s squirming as though she couldn’t tear her eyes from her partner’s body. One paw heavily petted the feathers on Gilda’s crest while the fingers in other slip into her insistently. Grunhilda’s beak clicked at itself, and her vivid blue eyes remained over Gilda’s exposed body when she stretched her back and let go a louder moan. Gilda showed a smile that made the white one blink a few times before she lowered herself over Gilda again and kissed her one more time.

Gilda held her nape and her paw heavily slid down her back before Grunhilda sighed deeply and pecked at Gilda’s neck, and then her chest. With little ceremony, the white griffoness lowered herself further, encouraged by Gilda’s reactions.

Her fingers squeezed the barely perceptible mound under one of the perky nipples before her tongue ran over it. She was rewarded with Gilda’s belly stiffening and an anguished moan that encouraged her further. She let her tongue dance around Gilda’s nipple a few times before her head lowered further in between Gilda’s thighs.

Gilda’s body jerked with a higher moan and her paws held Grunhilda’s head between her thighs while the white one’s wings stiffened upwards and she groaned, as her voice became low and shuddering.

Gilda let another higher pitched, moan escape and her eyes opened down to the other, finding her with her own eyes focused on her vagina. She held the feathers on Grunhilda’s crest tighter, grinning with another throaty moan. “Sure you’ve never done this before?”

“This better become a habit, you know?” Gilda breathed heavily, still looking down and with a grin. Grunhilda responded with a muffled giggle.

Gilda produced an undefined sound of pleasure with her beak hanging open and let her head rest against the pillow and the wall again. She closed her eyes with a grimace and wailed another one, and another, louder and more desperate.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but she didn’t really care if anyone could hear and let herself cry, because Grunhilda was a damn natural at licking another griffoness to orgasm!

Her hindlegs stiffened and her chest thrust forward as the muscles in her stomach stiffened and she tightened her grasp on Grunhilda’s crest. She forced her head against her groin before letting go. Softer, whiny moans followed when she relaxed again against the pillow and it took her several deep breaths to regain her wind when Grunhilda stopped and stared curiously at her, resting her head on Gilda’s belly.

“Seriously, what a find you were.” Gilda grinned mischievously at her before grabbing Grunhilda by the shoulders and rolling with her on the furry bed. She pinned her friend on her back and grinned at her, teasing her with her talons running across her chest. “We’re gonna have some fun going forward, aren’t we?”

Grunhilda gave her a lewd giggling grin, full of mirth in her blue eyes. “I’d like that!”

Gilda chuckled at her and lowered herself on top of Grunhilda, nonchalantly kissing her as the other expected her and their beaks fit against the other again. She paid more attention and Grunhilda’s heart thumped like a wild drum against her chest. Her hot breath wafted at her face as did the naughtiness of her smell.

Gilda squatted next to Grunhilda and held her hindleg straight up, holding it in a hug. She also rubbed her beak softly at Grunhilda’s leg when she lowered herself to push her groin against Grunhilda’s. Both hummed and smiled at the warm sensitive touch while Gilda’s talons scratched excruciatingly softly at Grunhilda’s thigh.

Grunhilda held her stare at Gilda’s eyes, begging, before Gilda ground herself at her leg, holding it tight and rolling her hip against Grunhilda’s. Both moaned together again and the later grinned lavishly as Grunhilda practically melted into the bed, closing her eyes, and surrendered to her ministrations.

Grunhilda whined and frowned, grabbing on to the edge of the thick animal skin they had for blanket. She wriggled like it was a torture and Gilda didn’t mind her partner had resigned to submitting herself to her ministrations, she liked being in control and Grunhilda was inexperienced yet.

“Liking that?” Gilda grinned at her in between her own panting groans and while holding her partner’s strong hindleg, hugging it. Her paw wandered over the silky fur and stiff muscle, drawing over her strong and shapely limb.

With her wings spread flat on the bed and her neck exposed, stretched with her arching back, Grunhilda’s chest raised and lowered laboriously. She squealed breathlessly and played with her own delicate teats, much to Gilda’s delight. The later closed her eyes and let small groans escape her beak as she nibble-kissed Grunhilda’s leg.

The white toes with pink pad flexed with a long and low moan of release that sounded something like “Miss Gilda…”

Gilda just smiled at that and licked at Grunhilda’s ankles, letting herself release a satisfied throaty moan before she finally stopped her incessant grinding and laid herself over Grunhilda. They kissed again, before they rolled on the bed when Grunhilda held Gilda with her wings too and spent several minutes resting, panting softly on top of Gilda.

Her yellow paws passed over Grunhilda’s back and her relaxed wings, mindlessly dragging her talons along her plumage.

The music from the party still sounded on, muffled by the closed doors, and so did the sounds of partying griffons. An eventual loud laugher pierced through, as did the sounds of clinking glass. Tiredness had finally caught on to them, however.

“Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda’s voice came out soft.

“Hum?” The other still mindlessly ran her talons on the white fur and feathers.

“It feels different…” She whined softly, almost as though she complained.

Gilda smiled. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

Grunhilda laid on the bed, on her side, facing Gilda, who held her. Finally, Grunhilda sighed happily and snuggled her head to Gilda’s chest and sleep didn’t take long to finally end their day.

I changed the scene where Gilda eats a whole tuna (...), but I tried to keep the spirit there.