Gilda was hoping for some snow. Whenever it snowed in Griffonstone it just turned the dirty street to muddy dirty streets and clogged drains. If you were lucky to live in an area with paved streets that was also serviced by the underground sewer system. Most just had central gutters. She never could appreciate how actually beautiful fresh snow was. Or so they told her.

In the North there should be plenty of clean, untouched snow in the wilderness. She supposed she would have the chance to appreciate it during the trip. But the climate was not so gracious. There was no snow last night, only the dry cold met them in the first day of their journey.

But one thing she had learned during her journey was patience.

The dry road brought another problem. It was a beaten dirt path of black soil, etched into the yellow grass by countless passing carts and feet. If there was one thing the south was superior at, it was infrastructure. Even if it was poorly maintained, it was there, and most cities were connected in a network of streets. Ironically, the reason they were poorly maintained was few griffons using them. The ones which received priority maintenance were the ones used by large freighting companies. And even then, in the times of good economy.

All water under the bridge, however.

Most of the rocks had been bumped out of the way though, thus they mostly walked over a half-hardened ground. Additionally, the winds were calm and allowed griffons to rest their sore feet with short flights.

“Haha. No.” said Captain Gosalynn with her shrill voice and long black beak. “There will be no flying unless there is an emergency. Flying monsters will attack from above and I don’t want clueless southerners distracting our escorts.”

Hey, at least she didn’t call them hooflickers.

Fair or no, nobody, including Gilda, wanted to test if they would let arrows fly on anyone. Apparently, she had successfully scared the cubs into keeping their paws on the ground too. Gilda even wondered if the whole ‘no flying’ thing was more about enforcing a random rule for the sake of enforcing rules. Still no flying, though.

Walking spent less energy anyways and griffons had spirits high enough. Additionally, if they walked, they could talk among themselves with less noise, which was another thing Gosalynn had said to keep to a minimum. These, and other self-deluding excuses worked, but the point was griffons remained on their feet or on carts. The goal wasn’t to enjoy the trip or have a leisure walk in the park anyway. It was to cross the wilderness as fast as possible without leaving anyone behind.

After the entire morning, a fast lunch, and most of the afternoon walking in between the farms which provided for Wayfarer’s Rest, they were finally in the actual wilderness. The path became softer and there was more grass on the way, but also some rocks. It was mostly fine and there was still beauty to see in the northern lands. The same kind of terrain Gilda saw before entering Wayfarer’s Rest remained beyond the North Gate.

Black soil and frequent, small fast streams intertwined with the green-yellow grass and dark-green shrubs adorned with beautiful little red fruits. Birds flew overhead and Gilda saw a pair of eagles, and a few crows too. Game animals avoided the caravan, but she saw them too before they fled to the nearby woods. Occasionally, they passed a small, wooded area with gray trees showing yellowing and red leaves.

In the distance there were always mountains. They were ubiquitous and their serene majesty made for a beautiful scenery. Snow Mountains was a good name for the hold and the varied scenery made the initial hours of the journey quite pleasant.

The cold was bearable, and the wind was little more than a soft breeze refreshing the mass of moving animals. More than that, the smells of nature reinvigorated those city griffons and Gilda included herself again. Griffonstone was clearly in a bad place, and Gilda doubted there was much any single griffon could do. It smelled bad. Too many shortcuts, too much corruption, not enough money left behind or well-meaning griffons to actually get the job done just because it is the decent thing.

It missed a mighty king that would unite griffons. Or at least make them work together, as not even the Idol of Boreas could withstand the Chancellor Office’s incompetence. Come to think of it, how would The Lion deal with something like the idol? Or The Harpy? Probably as what it is, an important artifact of historical value.

The wilderness seemed much more appealing, anyways.

She walked next to Gosalynn, also lost in her own thoughts, accompanying the head of the group of traveling griffons behind their scouts, several cubits ahead of them. Some of the travelers pulled personal carts and their families laid on top, chatting pleasantly as did groups of friends walking together. Some friendships even started after they left the gates.

Grunhilda had laid on her belly atop one of the carts the owner had allowed her to use. Her eyes scanned through the blacksmithing book Gilda had bought for her like there was nothing else of interest in the world. Gosalynn had said the beginning was almost certainly safe, so Gilda decided to let her study a little. Big Girl was happy as a cub with a ball of yarn, eventually turning on her back and holding the book up and then back on her belly again.

One of the Sky Sentry soldiers next to Gilda and Gosalynn suddenly rushed to the nearby woods. A few minutes passed before he was back with a collection of glass jars containing chunks of honeycombs and a lot of honey. All of them tied with thin cords and strung over his neck and back. Gilda supposed they used to be inside his backpack and that he had brought them for that express purpose.

She smiled, imagining a dad figured the younglings could do with something sweet after the carnage of sweets and forbidden foodstuffs when they arrived in Wayfarer’s Rest. Those jars turned into a giant moving party for the cubs across the caravan and Gia had to spend some time explaining why honey was acceptable when marshmallows weren’t.

Thus, the caravan progressed in the first half of the first day of travel. Every now and then rangers left the caravan. They would return with fruits, dead foxes or rabbits that were added to the supply train following the caravan of walking griffons and oxen-pulled carts.

A cold land, but far from dead. Would the perpetually snowed lands would be less alive? Her guts told her they wouldn’t. The Nartani made a living there. Scratch that, they thrived there. Of course, that was what griffons did. To thrive in adversity. She supposed she would see once they arrived at the worst parts. After all, the most important city was all the way to the north.

Something nagged at Gilda’s mind, though. Something kept her from fully relaxing like everyone else seemed to. Maybe it was the anxiety her caravan was full of city griffons who couldn’t survive on their own in that place. Because, even if the Nartani could, they lived their whole lives in there. Even in the relatively easy area of Wayfarer’s Rest the southerners might struggle too much.

No. That’s not it. The northerners would help them. Even if they were helpless, they were still griffons and they would survive. They would learn and they would thrive, eventually. Their cubs would grow and be even stronger.

She couldn’t tell if that was one of her past selves telling her everything would be fine, or if it she was trying to convince herself, so she wouldn’t be anxious.

Happy gossiping, spinning wheels, calling birds… The area was alive indeed. Griffons were happy, looking forward to their new adventure. Maybe that was it. They didn’t entirely understand. Maybe they could all go back to the places where living is easier for them when the Chancellor is finally dealt with?

Walking on the damp trail, at the head of the caravan, Gilda raised an eyebrow at her own thoughts. Maybe she should stop thinking like she’s everyone’s mom and let griffons own what comes out of their decisions. Maybe they wanted to go live in the North. Maybe they did believe they would be happier in the harsh northerner lands. Maybe they did believe Mother Harpy wanted that for them. Not to mention they could return to the south once the situation was dealt with. Her Mother would need loyal griffons to deal with the dissident southerners in the aftermath. Not to mention to run the regions.

A grimace crept into her face. Maybe she should stop calling Her ‘Mother’ after she had sex with Her. It was kinda creepy.

“Are you feeling well?” Gosalynn, walked next to Gilda and frowned at her. “I can’t decide if you are locked in a deep internal debate or if you need to go to the bathroom…”

Gilda chuckled and her cheeks tinted a little bit. “Sorry. I’m thinking about something.”

Gosalynn rolled her eyes and took a sip from a bottle she carried across her chest on a leather strap. Its beauty drew Gilda’s eyes, with a honeycomb design filled with shiny stones of various colors. But while it would be expected someone would bring some water for a long walk, that stuff didn’t smell like water at all.

“What’s that?” Gilda stared curiously and Gosalynn offered her the bottle.

It looked like a common glass bottle beneath the decorations and whatever was inside tasted like strawberry and watered-down mead. She wasn’t sure what it tasted like, and it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t for her. It had a strange twang of sugar and alcohol. Like a watered-down stiff drink made of honey and strawberries. Very sweet, to the point was too much for Gilda.

She stuck out her tongue. “Bleh!”

The small but quick and colorful griffoness laughed and took her bottle back. “I need this for long exercises. My body works faster than most… Or something. Madam Gelinda worked this out with me. It’s rich in easy to digest energy and it doesn’t infringe upon our customs.”

Gilda just stared at her. Gosalynn chuckled some more. “It’s a… Oh well… Madam Gelinda could explain this better. I basically took the short stick when it comes from inheriting things from your parents. Sometimes Astrani can have these… Difficulties.”

Finally, she shrugged and sighed. “Don’t ask me. I’m the Captain of the Sky Sentry. My job is killing monsters and keeping citizens from killing each other. Not figuring out the mysteries of griffon-ness. All griffons usually need to know is it’s not contagious.”

“Hehe. I understand.” Gilda chortled too, but both fell into silence as they kept walking.

It was a nice chat, and kind of interesting too. And yet, she was still uneasy, but she at least she understood. It was the silence that pierced the noises of a chatty griffon caravan. Gilda had gotten used to Mother talking to her every once in a while. She missed Her voice. No remark on their experience, nor on Gosalynn’s quip or condition. Gilda expected a remark on her silly insecurities… It seemed things had been less than ideal in Griffonstone and Gilda worried. For her friends, for griffons in general and for Her Mother. Maybe she should dedicate some time to seeing if someone she knows is in the caravan.

“Yes, this is a good spot for a first stop.” The Sky Sentry quartermaster suddenly spoke to Mister Gillian a few bodies ahead of her and broke through her thoughts.

Their words drew Gilda’s attention and soon after the latter raised his paw the whole mass of griffons stopped behind Gilda. Gillian spoke with all his experience in dealing with caravans, slow and methodical, but also loud. “Let the others know. We’ll be staying here a few hours early. But we are in a bit of a hurry. Tomorrow we will depart before sunrise, and we will only stop a few minutes for lunch and then after sundown. Six hours of sleep, at most as the movement will fight the cold. Rest this night. Get used to the cold, and don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine.”

The older griffon in the blue and golden Sky Sentry armor raised his paw too. “We’ll get food to everyone. Don’t worry and don’t start trouble. We need to remain united, or we will invite the wrath of the Windigos. And it will get worse the further north we go.”

Those words got some of the southerners nervous, with shifty eyes and nervous mumbling. But other than a few frowns, nothing happened. Griffons just prepared to set their small tents for the camp, moving out of the road. Though it was mostly a trail in the dark soil where the grass was trampled enough times. Curiously, in general, they seemed more excited with the idea that something fundamental was changing more than they feared missing anything from their old lives. Maybe Gelinda’s speech really had worked her ‘Loremaster magic’ on them.

Grunhilda hopped off the cart after putting the book away with their assigned luggage and stuffed her chest out. “I’ll get our tent up!”

Gilda smiled. “You do that, Big Girl. I’m gonna go check on our new friends.”

Grunhilda gave her an excited nod and chirp before joining the others. Each grabbing their stuff from the cart while a handler gave water to the wooly ox cow who pulled it. Her light tan, thick layer of hair had caught some grime and she drank like it was her last chance, but she seemed barely even tired.

“Hey boss!” Gertha stopped wrestling with the poles and sheets of her tent. “Might wanna bring the kids closer to you. I don’t think the girl is very well.”

Gilda nodded. What was her name? Georgia. Yeah, she really didn’t seem well when Gilda had first found them. “You’re right. I’ll do that.”

“You can count on me if you need help with the fledgling!” Gil offered as she forcefully tried sticking their flag into the ground. Failing didn’t make her less excited, though. “I’m good with kids!”

Gilda nodded acknowledgement as she walked down the semi-maintained formation next to the road. She found Godwin and his two sisters easily and soon enough. He was all flustered trying to get their small tent assembled while a pair of very pretty and young northerner queens talked to him. One held baby Giza like it was her own and the other sat next to Godwin doing all the excessive flirty things the teenagers think are subtle. Like a catalogue of desperation… Smiling, winking, sexy posing, subtly flashing her lady bumps on her belly.

The one with the baby was a bright emerald and white, while the other was steely gray and white. Both wore the red scarf and brooch of the Court of The Harpy, same as Godwin and his older sister. Georgia just sat there, ignored and in her own distant world. Something about that scene made Gilda angry with the two queens.

But before Gilda could intervene and save the tom from dying of embarrassment, Madam Gelinda came out of nowhere and approached them too, with the patented ‘I’m a Loremaster and I’m about to ruin your day’ scowl. Wearing her blue satin cape and with Gia following, but the latter only wore her typical bored, disinterested, and flat expression.

“Where are your families?” Gelinda snapped at young griffons, and the three almost had a collective heart-attack. Gasps, startled jitters and even a few flying feathers from flared wings.

“Madam Gelinda! I thought you hadn’t come. We’re down the column, Madam Loremaster!” Green squeaked at her, straightening her red scarf. “Our families are just finishing setting up for the camp.”

“We thought we should come here and let Godwin and his sisters know we can help with whatever they might need!” The gray one concluded with a half-panicked smile.

“I know very well what you wanted to help him with.” Gelinda’s scowl only intensified as she grabbed a freaking whip from under her wing. One of those with nine strands and Gilda’s eyes flew wide at the sight. “If you two have time and energy to distract this tom, I can find things for you to do! Go make yourselves useful or you’ll spend the night with a nice tan on your hides!”

The pair squeaked and high-tailed from there so fast Gilda almost couldn’t keep from laughing.

“Thank… Thank you, madam Loremaster.” Godwin stumbled with the words, timidly fidgeting. Until she whipped him on his flank with a loud ‘whap’. “OW!”

“If I catch you staring at another griffoness like that again, I am going to flog you so hard The Harpy will pity you!” She yelled at him as he hid behind his paws and closed his wings around him.

“Aah! I’m sorry madam Loremaster!” He squealed while his baby sister giggled.

“Hey, Gelinda, I thought you were…” Gilda started, but was interrupted when the old griffoness glared at her. She squeaked and covered her face too. “I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I decided I should come see these two, since you dragged them with you. I may have business in Frozenlake, depending.” Gelinda pointed with her righteous weapon after she was convinced Gilda was innocent. “I’ll return with the Sky Sentry afterward.”

Then, in a move which wisdom Gilda deeply questioned, Gelinda gave the whip to Gia. The wide and beaming grin the green griffoness opened concerned her, but Gelinda wasn’t done yet.

“Come, youngling. Let me see you.” She beckoned to the tom, and he approached. Sat in front of Madam Gelinda with a sheepish downward stare but looked at her when she held his jaw and moved his head for her to examine. “You are beautiful, child. A very pure Shaddani. No wonder those brainless hens were so enthralled with you.”

Gilda was no Loremaster, but she knew what a hot dude was, and the griffon fit the bill. Gelinda started showing him to Gilda before she could appraise him further. “He is no child but is barely an adult. He is a very pure Shaddani with beautiful and vibrant colors and you can see the very fierce facial traits of the Astrani. In his pronounced supraorbital ridge and in his discreet lores. His lower eyelids are the right proportion, and his maxilla is smooth with elongated nares. You can see his mandible is shaped after the rest of his beak and it is also particularly glossy. But, most of all, there is also something in his stare…”

“The tan is very common in the Griffonland area, but they are rarely so perfect in their plumage and coat. It often comes with yellow or brown eyes. Golden is a sign of a pure Shaddani, while other shades in the brown spectrum indicate they have some Haderani.”

“But there is only so much you can tell only by looking at the surface.” She smiled before her gaze turned down and then her smile turned to a delighted grin. “He’s been very well educated and properly raised. You can see he is healthy and fit. Obedient, but he doesn’t like being told what to do, nor that he is still treated like a cub. To obey is a choice he makes, but it violates his nature. You can see Our Mother’s ferocity in him. The physical power to impose his will if he so chooses. He is ready to be recognized as an adult.”

Maybe it was just because she had said it, but Gilda could see it. There was a fierce griffon in there, hiding under the obedient attitude of the ‘kid’. Gilda smiled an appraising grin, holding her own jaw. “Hum… Yeah. I see what you mean.”

Although what was on Gilda’s head was more on the lines of something which might get her whipped too. Fortunately, Madam Gladys didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she turned to the queen and smiled, signaling her to come over. “Come, dear. Let me see you too.”

But the pretty blue griffoness that was Georgia didn’t respond. All she did was breath in and out softly, with her downcast eyes to the ground, ignoring Gelinda altogether.

For a second Gilda feared Gelinda would treat her the same way she had treated Gil in the bath, but instead the loremaster’s eyes turned worried with a frown. She casually walked over to the griffon girl and softly held her jaw too, reading her. Her lack of reactions worried Gilda and she moved closer too while Gelinda quickly examined the female’s body, but with not as much dedication.

Gilda didn’t know what played inside her head, but Gelinda turned to the tom with a scowl. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were home… Pappa woke us and told us we needed to leave Griffonstone. He initiated the Red Dawn protocol.” He didn’t even react. Just started talking as soon as she asked.

“Was your father Gast of Griffonstone?” Gelinda kept her severe frown. “And your mother Guella of Griffindell?”

The tom nodded quietly, but without much delay he resumed telling his story. “Mamma went to see Madam Gladys. Georgia and I took our little sister and went to our supporters to inform them of the order and to take them to the teleporter.”

He changed his complying neutral stare to one of contained anger. “The plaza was taken by GSA soldiers and two Blackfeather agents…”

“Blackfeather?” Gilda turned to Gia with an inquisitive stare.

“Intelligence officers… You know…” Gia grimaced. “The kind who murders and tortures for the good of the nation. Most griffons don’t even know they exist.”

“Hush.” Gelinda glared at them. “Continue, tom.”

By then, their little patch of the camp was crowded with curious griffons that wanted to listen to the story or just wanted to know what was going on. Both northerners, some Sky Sentries in armor, and southerners. They kept silent and the thestral pony was among them, in the first row, since most griffons were larger than she was.

“We met a unicorn mercenary… Tempest Shadow, the Kingslayer Traitor. She wanted passage through the teleporter but lacked the activation command. We teamed up and her mercenary outfit let us into the facility. She was working with a mercenary griffon by the name of Gaki.” Godwin closed his eyes and his voice strained with sorrow. “We made it into the facility via a gift shop and… We found mamma and Madam Gladys dead. Tied and shot!”

Gilda gasped. She knew it was going to be bad, but that was something else. She said nothing, though. The tom continued under angry and sorrowful stares. ‘Who kills a Loremaster? Let alone two?’ they mumbled among themselves, and ‘Who shows a cub their dead mother?’. Others still quietly confirmed the story, saying they were there, outside the facility’s gates.

“The mercenaries argued among themselves. I don’t remember exactly what happened.” His crest of tan and white feathers bent sadly, and he cast his eyes downward again. “They took us outside to the Blackfeather agents and they knew who my sisters and I were. They wanted Mamma and Madam Gladys alive and wanted to know where Pappa was.”

“Do go on, child.” Gelinda encouraged him with a gesture. “You will feel better.”

“One of the officers, Colonel Gaspar, knew Pappa and tried to protect us. He told the Blackfeathers to leave us alone, but they threatened him.” He gave a curious frown. “Then an old veteran the soldiers called General Gamaliel came and started talking to the soldiers. About a military operation that derailed a train to cover up for the Blackfeathers murdering two northerner citizens. The soldiers became angry, and Colonel Gaspar led them in a mutiny.”

“No way!” Gilda gasped with her paw before her beak. Was that about Grunhilda’s parents? She hoped to know more, and maybe be sure. But she let the kid keep talking, as it was likely he wouldn’t know. Thank The Harpy Grunhilda wasn’t there to listen to his testimony.

“There was fighting in the city and Colonel Gaspar hurried all he could through the teleporter. Meanwhile, the mercenary tried to walk away.” Godwin growled and scowled fiercely. His whole body tensed up. “I told him the only place he was going to was the Scorch. They gave me a pistol and I shot him.”

Some gasped, others nodded. Most, such as Madam Gelinda simply listened while his voice raised, and tears wet his plumage and his angry grimace. “I made him lay on the ground and look at me. Then I shot him!”

“I told him he was a filthy Saddani and I would love to see what the Allmother was going to do with a dirty unclean that killed Our Mother’s Chosen for Bits. And I shot him!” The fierce facial traits Gelinda had mentioned became glaringly apparent with his furious scowl. “I watched him fall limp with a bloody hole in his head. I watched as the rain washed his blood away. He was gone. Mamma is gone and I am scared Pappa is too. And we stayed behind…”

Madam Gelinda put a wing behind his back as he finally broke his restrained demeanor and she let him weep with his face on her fluffy chest. It was an awkward situation where all the dumb griffons around them wanted to say or do something to help. Anything. But there really wasn’t anything. Like Gilda and her sagging wings, they just let the young griffon cry his tears out, holding on to Madam Gelinda like she was his mother, and nobody bothered them. His sister cried too. For the first time she showed a reaction, and it was crying like a weaned cub, hiding her eyes behind her paws.

Yeah… Gilda wasn’t one of those griffons who understood everything like Madam Gelinda or Madam Gladys, but she figured it was good the girl was letting it out. Gilda was going to hold her, but she was surprised when Gia walked over to Georgia and held her in her forelegs and in her wings, letting her rest her head on her chest too.

Grunhilda approached Gilda with a distraught stare and after Gilda held her for a few seconds, Grunhilda went to the baby. Little Giza started whining and complaining, threatening to cry, upset her big siblings were so distraught. Gilda’s white and big thrall held the baby and beaked softly at it. She had a sad smile and made small cooing sounds which calmed her.

There was nothing anyone could do, but Gilda knew what losing their mother at such a young age felt like. She still wanted to do something. Anything. But she knew there was nothing she could do. What a terrible time The Harpy had chosen to stop talking to her. The only thing she felt like she could do, talking to Their Mother, was not possible when she felt she needed it the most.

Her feet shuffled mindlessly in the grass, and she stared at them. She could, at least, share in their moment. It seemed the entirety of their quickly assembled caravan did. Most of those griffons were only there because these kids’ family made it possible.

A few minutes passed before the two siblings started to gain some control over their sobbing and returned to breathing normally. It was when Madam Gelinda looked up at the stormy sky whose gray clouds had tinted in the reds and oranges of sunset and drew a deep breath.

“You didn’t stay behind.” She closed her eyes. “And they are not gone either.”

Gelinda caught Gilda by surprise. Her beak hung open for a second before she gathered her wits. In the confusing mess of emotions swirling in her head, she imagined maybe it was better to just purse her beak, instead of throwing platitudes like Gelinda was going to.

Gilda was reminded she knows nothing and the surrounding griffons and thestral became enthralled by her words.

“Every griffon is on an eternal journey. It is Our Mother’s gift for us. We are meant to be born, to live, and die. But however, we die, we are not gone. No. We are too precious that Our Mother would let us vanish into nothing.”

“There is a vast, empty desert. Cold, snow and wind. It is the Whitescape much as we know it.” She made a grand gesture to the horizon. “Nothing but the white mist of snow and wind. Griffons will find themselves stranded in a place they don’t know. They may not remember what happened, but something inside urges them to follow to the West. The Stormy Eyrie calls them home to the Allmother’s Halls. But the life and death of a griffon is a trial of their character.”

“The fell power of the Windigos will assault their minds and their corrupted minions will accost them on their final journey.” Gelinda frowned and her eyes took an upset glint to them, but she kept talking, still holding the distraught young griffon with her. “Tired of their long trek and under attack, instinct tells them they must make it home. They are Children of The Harpy. The Windigos could not defeat us thousands of years ago and they cannot today.”

“They will find a frozen city by a lake of ice. Always the unbridled hatred of our ancient enemy will seek to destroy them. It is all they can do… The Windigos have no power to create, they have no will and all they can do is shovel their vapid hatred into the empty husks of their minions and seethe at the glory they cannot have.” Gelinda looked at the others too as she spoke. “Draugar. Undead griffons, blind and cold by their envy will try to stop them and make their victims as miserable as they are. Frostmane ghosts will wail and charge like the mindless beasts they have become. Their Sun has abandoned them. She has become a politician and she has changed the faith of her children for the bed of compromising politicians who see nothing more than golden coins.”

“The empty souls of griffons and ponies confined to the torment of undeath share a common envy and goal. Their horrendous masters will crack their whips and the undying will oblige. But conflict is the life of a griffon whose soul Our Mother has forged in the fires of wrath. Hunting monsters is the due of Her Children since the moment the Unicorn Kings declared war on us so long ago our own brethren will not believe us.”

“Hollow shells and restless spirits of creatures dead so long ago they don’t recall that when lightning owns the skies and thunder roars, they ought to fear. There is no stopping the valorous and dauntless Children of The Harpy. They will reach the mountains. An island of sanity within the terrible domain of the frozen evil. Every griffon knows the way.”

“Within the mountains they will find a verdant valley where temperatures are pleasant, and prey is abundant. A city like a mountain takes the center, and you can hear the music of the flashforges where the Astrani blacksmiths make weapons of might and steel for Her champions! Their songs will fill the newcomers’ souls with awe as they walk on soft grass and among mighty trees.”

She closed her eyes again and smiled. “They will follow the promenade amid the statues of our legends and griffons will stop what they are doing to cheer for the arrival of their brethren at the end of their journey. They heard the songs the Skalds sang of their lives and want to meet them. They will follow as the newcomers enter the Fólkvangr and the great heroes of our race will sing the tales of their lives to Our Mother. Their ancestors and friends that had fallen in the past will welcome to them. They will feast and they will celebrate for many lifetimes until they are ready to return to the Land of the Living and will again glorify Our Mother’s power.”

“It is the due of all griffons and all will die one day. Until then…” She looked at the two young griffons and spoke to them again. “Until then you will make your life a worthy one. Your parents and Our Mother will listen to the Skalds singing of your deeds and when you meet your death, you too will brave the corrupted power of our cold enemy. You will overcome and will meet Gast and Guella again before Our Mother. Not as cubs, but as worthy Children of The Harpy. But until then, you will live.”

Georgia sniffled and looked at her paws, lost in thought. The tom, Godwin smiled at the old griffoness. “Thank you, Madam Loremaster.”

Her voice became soft and comforting as she ruffled his crest affectionately. “Be proud. Be brave. You are a Child of The Harpy, not some pitiful grassbreath abandoned to the eddies of arcane energies.”

“What happened to the mercenary?” Georgia finally spoke and it almost startled her brother who shivered whole and flared his wings, turning to her. The griffons around them smiled though. Gilda thought that it was worth a smile too, but also turned to the Loremaster. That was still her show.

“If he is lucky, the Windigos got to him. He will become a draugr, or some other manner of undead monster and will wander from the Frozen North…” She spoke in a carefree tone and shrugged. “Mayhap you will see him again. Folk often say they found bad griffons turned undead while exploring the ruins among the snow. Those that nobody bothered burying according to Our Mother’s commands. Kindly strike him down if you do. One day the Windigos ought to tire of him and let him go out of tedium. He would vanish into nothingness. Eventually. It would be unfortunate… He is still a griffon and a soul that should be one of us in another life. I do hope that Our Mother may eventually collect him. I don’t know the answer.”

The girl blinked a few times with her big, expressive, and vibrant eyes. “What if he is unlucky?”

“Well, then not even the Windigos could save him from The Harpy.” Gelinda grinned like the told the punchline of a joke. “Good question. I truly don’t know what fate awaits the spirits taken by the Windigos and what Aya Harpyia will do to him is speculation only. If you go all the way to Griffindell, which I suggest you do, ask Lady Gwendolen. She surely knows.”

“Now… Let us eat. I am an old griffon and do like my dinner.” Gelinda smiled warmly at the young griffoness and petted her head too. “Do you mind if they share dinner with us, Gilda?”

Gilda chuckled. She loved the way Gelinda basically invited herself to dine with her and friends, but Gilda supposed she was a guest of honor.

“Not at all!” Gilda beamed. “I think it would be awesome!”

“I will be with you in a while.” Gelinda smiled again before she disappeared in the middle of the now dispersing griffons. Of course, ‘dispersing’ really just meant they were going back to the small campfires they had prepared for dinner and some socialization before they retreated into their tents.

“What separates a teenager from an adult, Gia?” Gilda walked next to the green loremaster as they returned to the ‘head’ of the camping ground. The sentinels, the local armored Sky Sentries placed themselves around the perimeter. Sitting with spears on their paws, shields on their backs and watchful eyes. They nodded respectfully at the pair as they walked past. A couple of them were armed with bows and Gilda supposed it was because of the monsters. They didn’t expect to be attacked by brigands, but by monsters.

Guns for civilized creatures, bows for beasts and monsters, it seemed.

“It’s the Gathering Storm.” Gia shrugged, looking at Gilda by her side.

“It’s not really a rule and many cubs go to it just to have fun and hear The Cry of The Harpy.” She stopped and held her jaw in her typical pensive way when she forgets that she ‘doesn’t like anything and anyone’. “It is more of a milestone to the members of the Court of The Harpy. Since… You know… They get to do ‘adult stuff’. But in the end, everyone has fun. It’s the members who are much more controlled than the others. Nobody cares what some random commoner is doing. They are kind of allowed to deviate from tradition… It’s the nobility that must set the example.”

So long as they aren’t ‘filthy Saddani’ with improper traits, like too thick a tail ending the wrong way? But Gilda kept her annoyance at bay and her beak remained in a peaceful smile. This was not the time.

“I’m surprised you don’t have some sort of trial by combat…” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Maybe some ritual hunt or… ‘You have to kill a monster to be considered an adult! Rawr rawr!’ You know?”

“A griffon’s entire life is a trial.” Gia responded, surprisingly mature and sympathetic in her mellow stare back to the kid hugging his sister. The little baby was blessedly unaware and looked up at her siblings with little hops, wanting to be included. She was also free of her bundle of blankets and Grunhilda followed Gilda.

“I suppose you are right.” Gilda nodded, turning her eyes to her path. She didn’t dwell on the thoughts about all the weird turns her life had taken. She’d done enough of that.

The travelers had organized in small groups that returned to their campfires once the show was over and conversations became islands of griffons talking in low voices. Gertha had graciously made a fire for Gilda and the others in the central area around which their tents were raised. She was feeding wood to the fire just as they approached, and Gil still struggled to stick their flagpole in the ground. She held it down with her weight and spun it in her paws with her tongue sticking out of her beak like she was on a personal mission.

Meanwhile Gillian talked with Gosalynn and the Sky Sentry quartermaster. They were talking in a reserved tone over a map, but it was a spontaneous conversation. Gilda approached as casually as their conversation was and sat with them, watching the map-pointing and tool-poking.

With her approach, Mister Gillian spoke without looking at her. “We seem to have progressed further than we expected.”

“What?” Her expression turned to bewilderment, and she scratched her head. “How is that possible?!”

“Notice how the weather is constantly heavily clouded?” Gillian pointed up and Gilda nodded like a good student. “Mother Harpy’s magic shrouds the entire region from… Let’s say prying equine eyes that might or might not be sitting her flank in Canterlot with a huge telescope. Or so the Northerners say. But she also lends us her magic.”

Since she didn’t want to seem like a fool, Gilda pretended she had understood how that would even work. Gosalynn squinted, though. “I wish. She’s in Griffonstone right now. Sticking her hooves all over griffon matters.”

“Well, the important thing is that the Allmother’s magic is helping us progress.” The quartermaster said. “I don’t care how it works, so long as it works.”

Fair enough. Gilda nodded and excused herself, turning and making her way to the group of griffons around the nearby campfire. Guille and Geary, with the two Gunner soldier boys talked about something while they prepared raw sausages on sticks and piled them on a plate with a red sauce prior to being roasted. Lost Temple already sat by the fire, wearing a dark green cotton cloak and a deep blue neckerchief that had a brooch of his cutie mark of a roll of parchment and a shovel. Paying attention to the griffons.

“Pony, is there some sort of artisan who makes customized brooches of cutie marks for sale?” Gunner of Griffonstone asked. Or the other… Gilda wasn’t sure which one was it. But he was also passing around mugs with hot spiced wine.

“Ah. Yes.” The pony blinked his big violet eyes. “Yes. There are quite a few in every city, actually.”

“It’s part of their identity.” Gilda sat by the fire and put out her paws to it. Only then she noticed just how cold it was and how the night had suddenly fallen when she wasn’t paying attention. While they talked, the thestral returned from the bushes. Gilda kept talking to the others, paying her little attention. “It’s like a griffon that wants their name on their stuff.”

“I think it’s alright.” Gunner from Griffonstone started pawing out the sticks with the sausages, just as Madam Gelinda sat next to Gia. It made the green griffoness incredibly uncomfortable as she scooted away a few fingers. That notwithstanding, the griffon ex-soldier went on. “Reminds me of a story in the news about a hen that wanted a cutie mark.”

“Why would the newspaper publish a story about that?” Gia forgot Gelinda and raised an eyebrow like she was personally offended.

“Because newspapers in the south are like that.” Gilda sighed, holding her sausage to the fire. “The news can’t be too depressing and since Princess Celestia wasn’t in town to judge a cake contest, and there were no buildings on fire, they’d publish stupid shit like that. Not to mention everyone is so damn tired of the news about politicians being investigated griffons would stop buying the papers.”

After a round of chuckles they silenced and enjoyed their meals. With Grunhilda happily gobbling down a sausage next to her, Gilda stared at the fire. A distant thunder reminded her of the silence The Harpy had kept the whole day. Dead griffons, fleeing from Windigos and their monsters haunted her thoughts. Trying to reach the Stormy Eyrie. Maybe lost and confused. It seemed needlessly cruel to tell a couple of kids who had just lost their parents. But she supposed a good story needed some drama instead of dead griffons simply popping into existence in the Stormy Eyrie. Northerner kids would like stories about their parents being awe-inspiring. Come to think of it, the story ponies tell probably have their culture etched into it too. Probably all cultures did so.

Then she realized she didn’t actually know anything. In fact, she had never thought about what happened to a griffon after they died. Perhaps just some thoughts about resting and being reborn eventually, as that was what the Loremasters and their memories of past lives implied. It was the commonly accepted view of what passes for an afterlife all over the world.

Gia scoffed with a grumpy scowl. “As though some nice story was going to change their harsh reality.”

Then, much like a cat finally managing to corner the mouse, she made a petulant grin and turned to Gelinda with a metaphorical pounce. “Like an honored old Loremaster telling the youth some exaggerated tale about their parents fighting monsters and whatnot to reach their final resting place.”

Other than the fact that ‘the youth’ was probably no more than five years, give or take, younger than Gia and herself, Gilda was more shocked by Madam Gelinda’s surprise at Gia’s sting.

“What tale?” The old loremaster blinked her gray eyes innocently as Godwin’s baby sister.

“No.” Gia nagged as her face twisted into a grouchy scowl. “There is no way you actually know what happens when we die. No way. Loremaster memories are of previous lives, not of some fabled afterlife. You made that up from the folk tales of the Astrani.”

“What makes you think that the Stormborn were wrong? They lived with Mother Harpy in the Stormy Eyrie before the Windigos. And even if it is just an empty tale, it did the cubs good. They are barely adults, and they lost their parents. No cub should ever see their parents tied up and shot.” Gelinda initially showed no outward emotion, but then she made a pitiful smile and softly petted Gia’s crest. “Don’t worry, Gia… I am absolutely sure Lady Gwendolen is going to fix whatever is wrong with you.”

Gia could have afforded not to bat away Gelinda’s paw so angrily, though. “You know I am a Loremaster too, don’t you?”

“Might as well start behaving as one, then.” Gelinda didn’t even waste a breath.

They looked like they would keep bickering for the mutual annoyance and entertainment of their companions, but the thestral clopped her hoof on the grass. It produced little sound, but she had their attention anyway. “The ponies… Uh…”

She started and made an expression like she had the most bitter of lemons in her mouth. “Princess Luna says that there is really no afterlife to speak of.”

Her ears flopped and her eyes turned sad while her hoof circled in at the grass. “There is a river of magic which carries the souls back to the Sun… Where they rest in the Pool of Souls before they return to the world of the living again. Like… Princess Luna protects them from the Nightmares and such on their journey… But the souls aren’t even aware.”

She finished with an awkward grimace, turning her eyes away from the group.

“Before the Windigos, griffons found no opposition to return to the Stormy Eyrie when their time came.” Gelinda spoke calmly. “I don’t care what Celestia says. It is taught to us the strife we must endure is a consequence of the presence of the Windigos. The Stormy Eyrie is deep within their claimed lands and when griffons die, they must reach it to rest. Their life must be a mindful preparation for such journey. Maybe there is something else. But I don’t know. And until I learn it is relevant to my kind, I will gleefully ignore it as I ignore all pony matters.”

The pony murmured with an angry squint and pursed lips showing her little fangs, but Gilda was busy with something else in her mind.

What of her mother? Did she make it? She was no northerner griffon. Did all the southerners end up with the Windigos? Maybe Gelinda really was just telling them a heroic story. She meant to ask, but not in front of the kids and they had just arrived. Georgia particularly. She had washed her face and straightened her crest of wonderful blue feathers. She carried her little sister on her back and almost looked like a different creature altogether.

“Ma’am.” Godwin started, sitting with his sisters between the group. “I wish to thank you for bringing us with you.”

“Nah, don’t mention it.” Gilda waved her paw at him with a happy grin. “Madam Gelinda would have taken care of you.”

“I thought that that you had obligations back on the city.” Gia complained more than she spoke to the other, hiding behind her sausage like she was sharing her grievances with it. Gilda almost worried about her.

“Yes. But as I noticed Gilda had taken them under her wing, I decided to come help.” Gelinda smiled and pet Georgia’s head. “Don’t worry, Gia, I will leave you alone soon. I will merely stay for a few days in Frozenlake. I must talk to Lady Geena.”

“Oh! Right!” The green one suddenly livened up with a beaming grin. “The Gathering Storm!”

“No.” Gelinda poked her with the little stick that held her sausage. “There is more to the Gathering Storm than getting poked by cute young toms. Lady Geena is my hierarchical superior. After hearing the younglings’ story, I must discuss important matters with her. Military matters. Information must make its way all the way up to Lady Gwendolen and magic is not always reliable or private enough. Matters for mature and reliable loremasters.”

Gia mumbled something while she took a sip from her mug of spiced wine.

“Can I help?” Gilda put a paw on her chest, with the other holding the stick with half of a sausage. “I mean… In the service of my liege, right?”

Gelinda chuckled. “Quite right, Gilda. But don’t worry, you are already helping more than enough taking me to her. But if you do want to help further, get these three to Griffindell for me.”

“Hum… Griffindell?” Georgia’s sheepish tone was worried and uncertain. “The most north we’ve ever been to is Frozenlake. For the training camp.”

Gia rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. You’re in the Court. You get the best of the best by default.”

“Your parents served directly under the Lion and Lady Gwendolen.” Gelinda explained, significantly more patient while resting her paw on Georgia’s shoulder. “Lady Gwendolen is going to take care of you, your brother, and your little sister. We take care of our own. Especially under these circumstances.”

“You are still young.” Gelinda next smiled at the tom. “And you must follow the commands of your elders. But that is to end with The Gathering Storm. If you decide against it, you can leave later.”

Gilda hummed. Gelinda just left unsaid that they should do whatever Lady Gwendolen tells them and they’re golden. Part of the cool griffons club. Not that Gilda could say anything against it, herself being another. It worked. Make yourself useful and we’ll take care of you. Sure, the basic income was great, but in Gilda’s case it meant a one-way trip to a griffon prison. In the kids’ case it meant… Whatever the hell those ‘Blackfeather’ guys could think of.

Her feathers rippled with the creepy wave of cold climbing up Gilda’s back with that thought. Her experiences as Ghadah probably weren’t too far. And she wasn’t going to gamble with their safety.

She spent a few seconds watching Georgia feeding her little fledgling sister with pieces of sausage. Holding it up in her talons and letting her do little hops and attack it with her beak.

The sister looked like she was alive after Gelinda told them that story. True? Untrue? Gilda didn’t care. It brought the young queen out of her shell. Even if she still had a distant stare sometimes. Time should work its magic eventually.

The important thing was that they were under her care now, and she was going to see them to Lady Gwendolen. It was part of her mission.

If anyone is curious, Godwin and his sisters appear in chapters 'Red Dawn' parts I through IV of Piece of Parchment. I don't think it's necessary, but if you want to see them, that's where they are.