Gilda woke slowly and calmly to the sounds of griffons talking outside her tent. She expected a trumpet call, or something similar. But it was just a few griffons conversing politely. A pleasant way to end a pleasant night. No upstarts. No weird dreams, trips into her own mind, the past or meetings with ancient goddesses. Just a quick romp with her friend, a relaxing slumber and the dim light coming from the campfire outside with the sounds of griffons starting the day early. The air inside the tent was slightly warm thanks to the magical heater, and the reddish wolfskin blanket had slipped from them as she and Grunhilda slept. It was bundled next to their hindlegs, as they kicked it in their sleep.

She hummed contently and stretched the sleep out of her muscles. Her eyes found the blue cloth that made the low roof of their tent and the tense wooden rods that kept steady the dome structure. She closed her eyes again and lazily stretched her limbs too, before turning to her side to sit with a long and satisfying yawn. No space to stretch her wings, but she wasn’t bothered.

Finally, she stretched her neck and groaned softly. Their bed of animal furs occupied about half of their tent’s useful space and the rest Grunhilda had used to organize their stuff. Her armor, bow, quiver, and hammer. Gilda’s Mythical, and her magical jewelry gifted by Lady Gwendolen all rested there. Gilda’s red scarf of the Court of the Harpy sat neatly folded and tucked in its own corner. Grunhilda’s fox backpack was there too, as was a cylindrical wooden container that held all the camping essentials they might need. Provided by the caravan. Which was hers. So, Gilda supposed she provided it.

Grunhilda occupied the other half of the bed. On her back and with her limbs all over it as though she owned it. Well, technically, she did, but neither would admit to that. More important than her limbs were her immorally exposed belly and her powerful and elegant physique. Gilda found herself basking at the glory that were Grunhilda’s stout muscles and her feminine traits under the sparse white fur covering her belly.

Gilda had to summon exactly half of her available willpower to resist the urge of squeezing Grunhilda’s teats like a pervert. The other half she spent to stop herself from waking Grunhilda up by tossing a cupful of water in her face. She settled with smiling and pressing her paw over her friend’s fluffy white chest. She softly shook the big griffoness awake. “Hey. Big Girl. Griffons are doing stuff outside. We should get up and get ready to move soon.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” Grunhilda whined softly, turning to her side and sitting with a terribly sleepy expression to the point where her crest was flat and floppy. The Big Girl complained, still whiny. She even rubbed her eyes while she yawned. “It’s still dark.”

“Hey, Gillian and the Sky Sentry guy said we’d get up early.” Gilda held Grunhilda’s shoulders, and her paws slipped to her white friend’s chest, feeling the strong muscles with a smile. Then she reached and pecked Grunhilda’s cheek with a small griffon kiss.

The other giggled and wrapped her forelegs around Gilda, taking her time to caress the tan feathers and fur covering her back. Her smell stirred all sorts of sensations and Gilda’s beak fit with Grunhilda’s. She pressed her body against Grunhilda’s and her paw held the other’s nape, despite Grunhilda’s taller height. Gilda just propped herself up with her hindlegs a little.

Satisfied, Gilda backed away slowly and with a smile she found mimicked on her friend’s beak. “Get things ready to move. We don’t want to slow the caravan down.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda chirped and immediately set out to work, starting by retrieving the blankets and sleeping furs they had used during the night.

Gilda let her do her work, and it made Grunhilda pleased as punch. Meanwhile, she sat by the entrance, and the cold seeped against her back. But it didn’t bother her while she poured some water for her. They had a large canteen and a couple of metallic cups among their things provided by the caravan.

Satisfied, both with the water and the sight of her friend, she let the cup back with Grunhilda’s and the canteen before undoing the strings which held the flap closed. Two things immediately caught her attention: bone chilling cold, and a smooth white blanket covering everything not taller than three fingers.

“Snow!” She cawed. “Awesome! Wild, pure, and untouched snow!”

The night was still cold and dark, but the light from the nearby fire let her see well enough. The pair or sentries who kept watch during the night stared at her, each with a mug of something steaming. Nonetheless, she took a pawful of white from the ground and stared at the cold flakes with starry eyes. Slowly her smile diminished and vanished before she dropped the cold and wet thing back to the ground. “Well, it got boring in a hurry. It’s kinda nice, though. It looks much nicer than the cold mud on the street.”

“Lady Gilda.” Mister Gillian came to her wearing a black animal skin cloak, and he stopped for a second before he spoke to her with a confused frown. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Eh. It’s cold, but I’m cool.” She shrugged, but then chuckled and winked at him. Inside she cringed at her own joke, but she admitted the good Grunhilda did for her mood.

“Well, I’m glad you are in such a good mood.” He chuckled too and took the package from his back to offer it to her. “I was going to offer you an animal skin to wear.”

He showed her a square box wrapped with thin leather with strands of the same material. “In fact, it was meant to be a gift.”

“Really?!” She sat and took the package. “Why? I mean, I don’t want to look a gifted pony in the mouth, but…”

“It was Gil’s idea. We noticed you had nothing to wear in the cold.” He explained with a smile, watching as Gilda undid the wrapping. “She meant to give it to you, and I was holding it for her, but… Well… Last night happened with the kids and I thought it would be better to approach you in the morning.”

Around them other griffons prepared additional fires as the activity drew more and more out of their tents, despite the cold and the dark of night. Everyone was slow and quiet, though. Even so, Gilda opened her gift with enthusiasm, and it was a gorgeous cloak. She had no idea how it was made, but it looked like fluffy rabbit skin with the primary flight feathers of white owls stitched into it. The result was a winter cloak made of white feathers with thin black stripes. It even reminded her a little of Allmother when she opened her wings at full display. It emanated a subtle smell of talc, of something used to keep such fancy garments fresh while in storage. They probably bought it before they left Wayfarer’s Rest.

Just gorgeous, surely to come in welcome when they reached the colder portions of their journey. She draped it over her back and closed the leather loop around a button to hold it in place with its warm and soft embrace. Gilda never wanted for a mirror so much in her life.

“I don’t even know what to say.” Gilda beamed and did her best not to show the flurry of fuzzy emotions swirling inside her. What a way to notice she wasn’t used to getting gifts. “Thanks a lot, I guess.”

“You are quite welcome, Lady Gilda.” Gillian gave a throaty and earnest chuckle. “Just remember to thank Gil. It was her idea.”

“I will! Thanks again.” She still beamed at him as he excused himself with a nod.

As he walked away, Gilda happily patted the portion of the cloak that covered her chest while Gosalynn approached with a wide yawn, wearing a white gambeson. “Morning… Nice cloak.”

“Thanks!” Gilda piped as the other sat by the fire and she followed. Since she was up, she might as well eat something.

One of her subordinates had set up a triangular rack to hold a closed pot over the fire. It started smelling of wine as soon as Gilda approached Gosalynn to sit with her. “So, how much longer till Frozenlake?”

Gosalynn sniffled. “Oh, a couple of days. One more, maybe. We made much farther than we should have yesterday. I suppose it is a good thing so long as Gillian pays attention and doesn’t get us lost. Ugh. I hate sitting on the snow.”

As though they had heard a command, one of her Sky Sentries promptly brought a set of bovine leather rugs for them to sit by the fire. Gilda obliged. But before she could reply, and just as Gosalynn poured them some of the hot wine, a mountain of blankets approached them. There seemed to be a pony or two beneath it, with a horn poking out.

“Don’t you barbarians know about coffee?” Moonbow’s irritated voice came out of it.

“No.” Gosalynn took a long sip of her drink. “We drink spiced wine in the morning. It helps with the cold.”

“I’m siding with the pony.” Gertha came from behind, also wrapped with a blanket over the fluffy stuff she usually wore under her chainmail.

“Just drink this thing, you dummies.” Gosalynn groaned. “We live in this cold hell, and you don’t. Alcohol gives you a false sense of warmth when it actually makes you lose heat to the air. I don’t understand how, ask a Loremaster. All I know is that boiling this thing takes most of the alcohol away and it still makes you feel warm, without harming you. And the spices are meant to wake you up.”

“Then what is the difference between coffee and this stupid thing?” Gertha growled with an affronted scowl.

“Hot. Spiced. Wine!” Gosalynn cried too. “I’m not going to make coffee for your hooflicking hinds when I barely feel like being up myself!”

Gilda didn’t get involved. It was a bad idea as everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Except Gil. She came out of her tent with a happy spring, wearing a cotton cape and bringing a coffee pot and a sieve hanging from her beak. Grinning and singing. About as well as one can sing holding things with their beak, but it was the thought that counted. “No need to fight! I’ll make some coffee for you!”

“Oh, hey!” Gil stopped by Gilda. “Dad gave you the thing! It looks great on you! And right in time too, right?”

Gilda chuckled and smiled. Her good mood was contagious. “Thanks Gil. I really appreciate it.”

Out of the same tent also came Guille, with a less enthusiastic expression and wearing the same kind of armor undergarment as his sister. Gilda waved him a greeting, as did the others. It seemed he and Gil would be the only ones in a good mood besides Gilda. Curious that the new couple decided to just stay together. After a second thought, it was reasonable precisely because they were a couple. Shouldn’t there have been some sort of ceremony? Maybe they decided to wait and make it official at a proper place. Frozenlake for example. Northerners ought to have a notary office, or something of the sort that recognized stuff.

Then Gilda realized she knew nothing of Frozenlake. Or any northerner city, for that matter. Much less about their customs. She soon let the thought away with a shrug. She would learn with time and didn’t need to hurry. Lady Gwendolen would teach her everything.

Eventually the kids, Godwin and his sisters joined them, and all seemed much better. Even their baby sister pranced around much happier to be allowed to walk instead of being a blanket wrapped griffon burrito. She was adorable, running around and begging her older sister to feed her the strips of the dried meat they had for breakfast, but Gilda didn’t want one. It brought memories of the whole drama of being expected to mother cubs for The Emperor, but she didn’t have to deal with that in a while. Eventually Grunhilda joined them too to eat and later Gilda left her to take care of their tent and load up their cargo.

She went to the designated ‘female’ area to empty her bladder, and despite her memories of past lives with commonplace communal bathrooms, it was just awkward. Fortunately, most griffons agreed, and none came too close or stared. Of course, she removed her nifty new cloak so it wouldn’t get dirty.

Relieved, Gilda went on a jog by the side of the camping ground as the caravan reorganized. Done with her breakfast, and confident Grunhilda could take care of their stuff by herself, she could meet some griffons around the caravan. And show off her nifty new cloak. It was probably bad for her ego griffons recognized her and her station without the red scarf.

She probably wouldn’t be remembering most of their names, but they were happy she met them. It felt like she had accomplished something. Families and groups of friends waved at her. The Sky Sentries nodded acknowledgement. Individual groups had breakfast too and prepared to move on, sparing her a moment of adulation when she approached.

Most of the tents were sized according to the number of members in a family or of friends traveling together. Griffons without families had a wide tent for multiple individuals and they worked together to disassemble and prepare it for transportation along with their stuff.

They seemed to be more friendly and helpful than normal. Maybe it was the sense of adventure. There was an identity, or something, all seemed to share.

“They’re in. Deep as can get.” Gia spoke next to her, coming out of nowhere and Gilda gasped with a scared hop. The green loremaster queen raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Do you usually go around scaring griffons out of their mind?!” Gilda’s paw resting on her white fluffy chest could feel her heart thumping.

“Sorry.” Gia giggled maliciously, as the jerk she was. “Didn’t think little me could surprise the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Gilda turned to her, matching her bitchy grin. “You know, I really need to teach you a lesson one of these days. What did you say, again?”

Gia sighed and made a dismissing gesture to the working griffons. “It’s the uniting effect of the Cult of the Harpy. Everyone is Her Child. Everyone is a brother and a sister. Especially during difficult times.”

What Gia had described was everything griffons lacked. A unifying force, like the stupid pony princesses were to the ponies. But Gilda left those thoughts inside her head. Instead, Gia spoke again, but with a malcontent groan. “Yeah… Everyone must help each other, or The Harpy will get you.”

“Hey, if it works…” Gilda shrugged. “Where’s Madam Gelinda? I feel like she should be slapping you right now.”

Gia pointed. “Hasn’t left her tent yet.”

Gilda’s eyes followed her green talon to find a spartan tent among the others, although it seemed larger than needed for a single griffoness.

Gilda took the lead walking; sure Gia would follow. “She may need something.”

Once they reached the tent, Gilda sat and scraped the thick cloth flap with her talons. “Madam Gelinda?”

“Yes.” Her raspy voice came from inside while she undid the loops holding the flap closed. “Do come in.”

Both young griffonesses did, and the inside mimicked the tent Gilda shared with Grunhilda. It lacked personal belongings, but it made the tent look even larger. It had the ‘camping kit’ but little else. A folding table made of birch that held a small photo stand, a burning incense, and a glass cup with tea. They filled the air with a mixture of lavender and chamomile.

“Sorry if we’re bothering you.” Gilda walked in, curious about the stuff on the table. “We were worried you hadn’t gotten up yet.”

“I was up before you were. But I was busy with a few morning rituals.” Gelinda sat before the table and didn’t object to Gilda staring at it.

Nothing too fancy, other than the glass cup. The thickness and clearness showed its quality, and it held an amber tea. The incense holder was of varnished wood and made so the stick would burn, and its ashes would fall to its tray-like stand. And the photo was…

“Wait… What the…” Gilda grabbed it for examination with a confused grimace.

Made with black ivory, the frame held a portrait of a griffoness showing her profile. Gilda felt as though she might be going insane for a second, but unless her eyes deceived her, it was The Harpy in that photo. Mostly white and silvery in her facial plumage, with a black beak and a crest of black feathers but pulled back and made into a ‘mane’. Or a cowl. The fluffy feathers in her neck shone with their glossy black against the lighting, turning white over her accentuated chest plumage. Closed black wings, though mostly cropped out of the image. Gilda recognized her fierce facial traits from her dreams with The Harpy. But in the picture, she wore a goddamn pair of glasses that made her look like a nerd! And she held an upward stare, holding her black paws next to her chest, as though she was wishful. It looked like she was begging, even though her talons remained sharp and polished.

What the heck?

“Ugh… I hated it when she made that stare and said, ‘I must commune with Our Mother’.” Gia put out her tongue with an almost childish grimace of disgust.

Gilda turned the photo on its side. Was it a coincidence? A black and white photo could fool the eyes. Especially the high-quality ones. Yet, no. It wasn’t. Colorful buildings showed in the background. It was the Chancellor’s Palace with its reds and bronze. Gilda could see the green of the soldiers standing guard. Her head tilted on its side with the picture. “But this… She’s…”

“This is Lady Gwendolen.” Gelinda interrupted her. “She is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I always thought she was hiding something.” Gia groused.

Gilda cocked an eyebrow at the picture. Unreal. Of course. Most griffons never saw The Harpy, how would they know? She ought to wear a disguise whenever she appeared in public, it was reasonable. But it was ridiculous. Anyone who knew The Harpy would see past that particular disguise. She looked exactly the same as she looked during Ghadah’s time.

Then her beak shifted into a devilish grin. Except for Celestia and Luna, no one remained from that time, and it was way too circumstantial. Especially when Celestia never directly met The Harpy. Maybe in former versions of the world? That form must mean something important to the Allmother.

And yet… She looked way too young for a griffoness that had trained Madam Gelinda. It added a mysterious twang to her persona. She was damn hot too, but that was Gilda being horny again.

It almost looked like Her Mother made fun of whoever would see her in that picture. She’s been there in Griffonstone. Most griffons wouldn’t ever bother with her age, or that she went there. Most griffons wouldn’t even know how Lady Gwendolen of Griffindel was supposed to look, but it sent a powerful message to anyone capable of understanding it.

Funny… Gilda never imagined her goddess would be… Physical. But if Celestia lived with the mortals, why not The Harpy? It even made sense with all the things she’d been told about the whole cycle of creation and recreation. How the ponies had called their goddesses to the realm of the mortals, so did the griffons.

Except griffons didn’t have it easy as the ponies. The Harpy’s brutality and mercilessness demanded they become better; they become stronger. Strong enough they may yet challenge Celestia and her hegemony? They would see in due time.

Gilda put the frame back onto the table, but said nothing, retaining her thoughtful stare from before. Just when she had started to become really close to The Harpy such an important detail was revealed to her. True, she might have figured it out on her own if she had tried, but that wasn’t the point.

Was she already as close as Ghadah used to be? She supposed it didn’t matter. Gee… She had sex with her. And Gilda was on the Harpy’s hometeam. Pulling out of her thoughts, she found Gia wearing a disinterested and pedantic, bored stare. And supposed she had to drag Gia along for the ride in some way. She turned to Madam Gelinda, before her silence became too obvious. “Do you need anything? To get your tent ready for the trip?”

“No.” The older griffoness gave her a knowing smile. “The Sky Sentries will take care of it for me.

“Then I guess we should get ready to move.” Gilda put a paw on Gia’s shoulder. “Hey. Go see if the guys in the back need anything. I’ll be with Mister Gillian and Gosalynn.”

“Yes, ma’am…” The green loremaster replied ‘oh-so-tired’ and bowed sarcastically. But she did as Gilda asked when they walked out, leaving the older loremaster and Gilda alone.

“Has she talked to you?” Gelinda asked as Gilda watched Gia walking away. Gilda didn’t turn, nor speak. She just shook her head slowly and heard Gelinda’s worried hum. “Take heart, Swordmaiden. The Mother of Storms never was one to overprotect her Children. We will move forward until action must be taken, if at all.”

“Do you think…” Gilda turned on her haunches to look at the older griffoness. “Do you think she’s busy because a lot of griffons died?”

“Quite possibly.” Gelinda shrugged. “One can only guess. Unless she later chooses to reveal the events to you. I would imagine the situation is precarious and requires her undivided attention. I suppose you understand. She is… Diminished.”

“Yeah. I should get busy. Make sure Grunhilda has packed our things and that Gia isn’t doing anything stupid.” Gilda gave her a grin before she waved the older griffoness a goodbye.

However, Grunhilda had everything set up correctly and kept Gilda’s things in reach. Gilda donned her tiara, her bracelets, and her red scarf, keeping Mythical on her back, without her scabbard. Soon enough the caravan resumed its journey, like a lumbering beast, taking its time with each step.

They soon walked at their best speed again. As the day before, nobody flew, griffons kept a steady pace along with the huge oxen pulling the heavy and laden carts. The prevailing sound was the crunchy snow under the carts and their squeaky wheels. Fortunately, the snow wasn’t deep, and the oxen could negotiate it easily enough, but Gilda imagined they would be tired next night.

The exercise made her feel hot under her new cloak and she eventually asked Grunhilda to stash it with the rest of their things. The snow had arrived to stay, and around lunchtime it started snowing again. Soft and sparse, but it provided some entertainment for the cubs chasing the flakes as they fell. Never flying, though.

A quick meal and respite replenished their energies and the caravan moved again. Although to Gilda’s untrained eyes it seemed to have taken a while before it broke the inertia, and they gained some speed.

Hours blended into a long and boring vigil. Talking friends silenced. The droning sound of the wheels and squeaky suspensions remained. No wind blew, no distant thunder rang. Only the soft sound of griffon paws against the snow accompanied the carts and the clinking of armor.

Gilda walked next to Grunhilda and the clinking of her armor had become one with the squeaking of a nearby cart. She could barely keep her eyes open as they walked, and her mind wandered to Madam Gelinda’s story about what happened to dead griffons.

How did it work with the pony tales of the great river of magic which flowed back to the source? The sun… Did The Harpy pluck all their souls and drop them where they could reach the Stormy Eyrie? Did the Windigos interfere with her magic? If The Harpy lived at Griffindell, as Lady Gwendolen, did it mean she left the Stormy Eyrie, but could return? How did all that work? One of the problems was that the Pony Goddesses couldn’t return to their ‘place’ outside of the realm of the living. Things didn’t seem to add up.

Wait… She mated Lord Gilad, did that make him some sort of god too? Was that just part of her grand disguise? Did she like him? Like she told Gilda she liked The Emperor? Did he bone her too? What kind of question was that?! Anyway, it was also a way for her to connect with griffons, right? How would they react when she finally revealed her true self? There was some cleverness and sass in her disguise, but others may not appreciate the idea.

Gilda exhausted her thoughts on the matter and the sun seemed to not have moved at all, especially with the storm clouds. She did her best not to complain or outwardly display her boredom, but everyone in the caravan likely was as bored as she was.

She walked right behind Gillian, Gosalynn and the Sky Sentry Quartermaster, as well as a couple of their Sky Sentries. They carried muskets and halberds. Didn’t they say firearms performed poorly against the monsters along the way? Whatever. Those guys were professionals, and they knew better..

Grunhilda walked next to her, also bored out of her mind, but keeping it under a guise of focus. She carried the hammer and the training bow. Gertha had told her not to use the Thunderbow yet, and diligent Grunhilda obeyed. Godwin and Georgia walked next to them, with their baby sister sleeping peacefully on the queen’s back, and under a blue blankie. Clutching her cute chicken plush toy without a care in the world.

Behind them, one of the oxen cows followed with her handler who walked alongside and held the reins with his beak.

With the cold air, the snow didn’t melt, but it had stopped snowing. Fewer trees dotted the landscape, and their path flanked around the Phalanx. It was a small mountain range far to their left. Five peaks, almost perfectly lined side by side, but it was unremarkable. Just mountains with snowed peaks gently transforming into the hills surrounding them. To the caravans’s left a meager, yet wide grove with the colors of winter, obstructed their view.

Rangers didn’t leave the caravan to hunt, and nobody left to return with a full load of honey.

Poor Grunhilda, at a second glance, looked like a zombie walking by Gilda’s side. She was half-tempted to excuse Gilda so she might lay on top of a cart and study some more, but she imagined Big Girl would like to be useful too. Even if there was nothing to do.

Maybe the earlier start, or the less comfortable slumber in the wild could take the blame, but morale seemed to have dropped a little. Yet if Gillian and Gosalynn didn’t worry, Gilda wouldn’t worry either.

“Look out!” Someone’s cry from behind pierced the droning boredom. “Monsters coming from above!”

“What?” The first thought in Gilda’s head was that some kid decided to test ‘the system’ and spooked one of the guards. As ridiculous as it sounded. She turned her head over her shoulder to see, but a large shadow flew past her. She screamed and dropped to the snow, making herself as small as possible.

Eyes wide, she saw it as it flapped its wings above a creek in front of them and banked right. It turned alarmingly fast for its size, to the sound of screaming and disordered shooting. It looked like a hawk. In shades of brown and caramel dots on its white chest, but black on its head. Its neck seemed uncannily long and missed plumage, replaced with scales. The wings probably spanned as wide as the hospital back at Griffonstone and the whole thing made Gilda think a snake had had a cursed threesome with a hawk and a vulture.

“Get the harpoons! Get the spikes!” Gosalynn screeched at the top of her lungs, flared wings and frantic eyes.

“Get the carts between the trees!” Gillian ran past Gilda in a frenzy, and she turned to see it in time when another of those things swooped down from behind the trees, using them as cover. Even larger than the other, it tried to land on a cart, or the ox pulling it, but missed and landed awkwardly on the ground. Caravanners scampered off in every direction and the ox panicked, slamming their muzzle against the cart ahead of them.

“Don’t wander off!” One of the armored griffons yelled as the armed guards shot without much effect or charged with long weapons.

The giant bird attacked the cart as though it was part of the animal, ripping the tarp with its large beak. It became a mess of screaming bird, panicked griffons, crying soldiers and desperately mooing ox.

Without ceremony the roc beat its wings to hop onto the cart and closed its long black talons on it. Snapping wood sounded louder than the racket and the thing started beating its wings to lift off, taking the cart and a dangling ox with it.

“Stop that thing!” Someone cried amid the chaos and several arrows flew at it. They glanced off the contour feathers as though they were the scales on a dragon. The soldiers thrusting their halberds at its underside greatly inconvenienced the monster, though. From the other side of the line of carts, Gertha hovered above and let fly a bolt from her crossbow.

The crossbow bolt pierced the base of the monster’s neck and stuck. It also enraged the beast and it cried so loud Gilda’s ears rang while she saw the monster flap its wings. The blast of wind threw Sky Sentries everywhere and Gertha against a tree. It turned the cart on its side and broke the traces that held it to the ox, causing the panicked creature to moo and run, dragging their handler along.

Finally, Gilda stood and pulled Mythical out of her scabbard, leaving the leather sheath behind. Nearly at the same time the first of the rocs returned and grabbed another cart halfway retreated into the woods. Landing true, it immediately tried to make away with the cart, thinking it was a living creature. It gained half a dozen cubits in altitude before griffons grabbed every rope and dangling bit they could to try and stop the beast. Without much success, so strong that cursed monster was.

“I do declare, this is a most precarious circumstance!” The cow cried, flaying her legs in the air.

“For Mother’s Love!” Gosalynn screeched, laying low flat against the snow. “Where are the harpoons?!”

No one answered in the madness, but Gilda jumped into a leaping take-off and flapped her wings with her sword in her paw. She flew straight to the beast, too concerned with her prey and griffons poking at it with spears to notice her. Similarity to the zu birds Ghadah used to hunt, surfaced recollection with the strategy that grounding the monster must be priority number one. Zooming past the beast’s back, Gilda unleashed her sword with a passing cut aimed at the tendons that pulled the wings up around the shoulder.

She hit the monster, but her cut was too shallow. The roc let go of the cart and gained altitude in a blind panic, trying to see what had attacked it and slashing talons aimlessly at the empty air. A quick glance showed Gilda the Sky Sentries pushed the other bird off the cart, but the ox vanished into the woodland. Both Sky Sentries and other griffons shot guns and arrows at the monster as it created some distance, hovering up and screeching furiously. Gilda saw Gertha and Grunhilda with the others circling the monster to shoot at it while the griffons armed with spears and halberds made a line to protect the cart.

When her instincts told her she’d been watching too long, she spun in the air to see the other roc coming at her with its talons first.

“Piss off, you glorified chicken!” She twirled out of the way and swung Mythical at its feet. An arc of blood followed the blade and one of the monster’s talons lopped off.

Even with the bloody wound, the roc pirouetted and launched another attack, but instead of following through, it suddenly gave a mighty flap of its wings. The sudden gust stole the lift from Gilda’s wings, and she spun out of control with a frightened scream. The sword flew from her paw in the scare and the hilt drifted away. Her wings flapped out of control and her limbs tried to grab at anything that wasn’t there.

But Gilda knew how to recover from strong winds stealing away her lift. Her wings flared and stopped her from tumbling through the air, and she reoriented herself. The fact that her paw closed around Mythical surprised her. As though it had somehow found its way back to her.

Right in time too, as the roc flew at her, swooping down to strike with its talons. Gilda closed her wings and let herself lose altitude as she swung upward and Mythical bit deep at the monster’s leg. Another arc of blood followed, and the roc screeched, losing control of its flight, and crashing against the ground by the gentle slope of the hills.

Gilda turned to see the other roc clawing at the line of defenders, stupidly determined to grab the cart. She flapped her wings and hurled herself at the giant bird before it could notice her. Taken by a sudden hatred and lust for blood, she thrust Mythical point first as she hurled herself downward at the roc with a fearsome primal scream.

The sword pierced through the magically armored feathers as it did with armored plates back at Thunderpeak. Past flesh and scraping against bone with a coarse vibration. The force of her impact brought the monster to land on its chest against the snow and screech while griffons dispersed. Something stung Gilda, but she didn’t care, pulling back the blade clean off and hacking at the back of the monster’s neck. Blood flew with broken feathers, but it didn’t go limp as she expected. Instead, it dropped onto its side and almost rolled over her. It would have, if she hadn’t hopped off from it to land with a flurry of legs, wings, and screeching, with her face straight to the snow.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Gosalynn zoomed over Gilda wielding a rapier in her paw, with murderous intent towards the giant bird.

Other griffons with spears and pole weapons attacked the roc from almost every side, and they hurt it as Gilda recovered her senses. Several streaks of blood stained its clear plumage, but it had already gotten back up. It dusted at the assailants with its mighty wings. The gust from it almost toppled Gilda too.

It pecked at one of the hunters who had landed too close and vulnerable to it. Its beak tore the griffon in half, and it immediately attacked another, a Sky Sentry it flung to the side with a bloody gash in his armor.

Gilda reeled as the griffon in armor landed next to her. That monster’s talons had torn open a steel cuirass and bent the edges into the griffon wearing it. He screamed in pain, but Gilda reached for Mythical just in time as the damned monster literally took a jumping kick at her. Not only the gust from its wings almost threw her off balance when she stood to use the sword, but she barely managed to defend herself. Nothing more than sheer reflexes and her past self’s extensive training allowed her to deflect the monster’s talons.

Next it jumped at her with both talon-tipped paws ready to close on her. Each a curved sword aiming to trespass her, she dodged out of the way, throwing herself to the ground. One of the Sky Sentries charged the creature with a long-bladed spear and a wing-powered pounce. The metal pierced the monster’s external defenses and it screeched, flapping wings in panic, but not before Guille too attacked it. The wine-colored griffon brought his heavy greatsword to the roc’s neck, but it bounced off the bronze scales as though he had attacked stone.

The monster’s beak narrowly missed him as he ducked, and the roc followed with a jump, landing onto one of the Sky Sentries. His spear snapped in two and the monster’s weight crushed him with nauseating snaps and the shriek of bent metal.

Gilda screamed again, reaching for her sword, and hurled herself at the monster again, but Grunhilda held her. Her armor made it uncomfortable, but Big Girl pounced and held her with the strength of a bear.

“Miss Gilda, you’re hurt!” Her horrified cry snapped Gilda out of her righteous wrath.

She watched from under Grunhilda as the roc body slammed the cart with the broken trace like it was one of the creatures attacking it. Beneath hid a terrified male griffon. No weapon, no armor, nothing but his cyan and white fur and feathers. He screamed when his cover dropped to the side and left him exposed.

Kew! Kew-kewkewkew! Came the scared cry of the other roc as it soared again, quickly gaining altitude despite the bloody gash through one of its legs letting blood.

“No!” Gilda cried under Grunhilda, reaching with a paw while the other beast didn’t think twice and grabbed the cyan griffon in his paw.

“Oh no! Help!” The horrified griffon squealed, trapped within the sharp talons. He shrieked with pain as the monster hopped to flight. “Help me! Please!”

One of the older hunters even jumped to the monster’s back as it took off and tried to injure it with a hunting knife, but he fell. Several shots rang and arrows flew, but fast as the attack had begun, both rocs flew into the sky towards the peaks.

“No! No way!” Gilda threw Grunhilda off and, for a second, she opened her wings to fly, but she turned to the others. “Come on! We gotta save that guy!”

“Did you notice you have a crossbow bolt stuck in your chest?” Gia pulled Gilda’s wing and stopped her.

Looking down, Gilda squawked when she saw the black peg out of her chest. Most of it stuck outside, as it hadn’t gone all the way into her, much as the bullets during the fight at Thunderpeak.

Gelinda pulled the thing out with a twang of pain that caused Gilda to yelp. Then she showed the bloody tip, fortunately with no barbs, just a losangular blade. “Are you out of your mind?”

Much to Gia’s enjoyment, she slapped Gilda. And she was right, those slaps hurt the ego more than the flesh. “You dove into an enemy your allies were shooting arrows and bullets at!”

Gilda didn’t have an answer. She blushed and looked away. She could have died. And then she would have disappointed everyone. The harpy. She would have left Grunhilda alone. But Gosalynn distracted others from her as she practically jumped at one of her Sky Sentries. The large, armored griffon sat on his haunches, and she held him by the gorget of his armor.

“Where are the harpoons and the throwing spears?!” She screeched so high and loud it would be funny in any other situation.

“I’m sorry ma’am…” The griffon looked at her through the helm’s opening and with his gray beak poking out. “They were misplaced in the wrong cart.”

“What do you mean ‘misplaced’?” She cried nervously, flaring her beautifully colored wings.

“Because they had to rearrange the load into different carts before we left Wayfarer’s Rest…” He spoke sadly. “The weapons were loaded into separate carts because the hired paws didn’t know they were weapons we might need during the trip. And with the carts fleeing into the woods, we couldn’t find them.”

“Curse it!” Gosalynn screeched and jumped, pounded her fist into the mud. “For feather’s sake! Graah!”

Gilda grabbed her sword and put her to rest on her back. “We’re gonna save him.”

“Yes…” Gosalynn calmed down a notch before she turned to her soldiers. “Help the injured and have a report ready for when we’re back. Find the feathering weapons. We’ll leave as soon as they’re ready.”

“Stupid southerner.” One of the female Sky Sentries complained, standing among the others. Her tone and apprehensive posture transmitted a feeling of powerlessness rather than contempt. “He’s probably already dead.”

“It was not his fault.” Gelinda walked to the middle and spoke loud enough all would hear. “He is not used to monster attacks, and in his situation, hiding must have been the only idea in his head.”

“Madam Loremaster’s right.” The Sky Sentry next to the other nodded as scared griffons started coming out of the woods. “It’s our job to kill those things and to protect griffons.”

“Did anyone know him?” Gosalynn asked, walking to the middle of the congregated griffons as the others tentatively returned from the woods. Sky Sentries helped the injured while Mister Gillian and the beastmaster checked the carts and oxen. It seemed as though they may have had a cart too damaged to use, and they still looked for the oxen that escaped, but no beasts of burden sustained injuries. Quite a few of their defenders were, though. Gilda’s friends gathered too and one of the non-combatant southerner griffons spoke to Gosalynn.

A lime-green, unremarkable guy approached the group, still a little shaken. “Uh. I don’t know his name, ma’am. But he’s just a lone guy coming from Griffonstone. No family, and nobody knew him. Really nice, though.”

One of the northerner hunters approached. “Yes. Lonely, but friendly and hard-working. I don’t know how such a pleasant griffon ends up alone.”

“I don’t care what he’s like!” Gilda groaned, sitting on the snow while Gia made some dressing for her wound, glaring impatiently while Grunhilda remained glued to Gilda as a bodyguard. “We’re gonna save him and the longer we take before we go, the smaller the chance he’ll be alive!”

“He’s good as dead already.” The Green loremaster complained of Gilda moving under her breath.

“Sorry, Gilda.” Gosalynn sighed. “We’ll go as soon as they have found the proper weapons… But she’s probably right. Those rocs were hunting. We’re lucky they didn’t understand that the carts aren’t food.”

A Sky Sentry next to her nodded. “Stupid birds are probably very young.”

“They were large, though.” An armored female next to him replied and he simply shrugged.

Gilda fumed but didn’t say anything. The abducted griffon could be alive, and they would take that chance. Additionally, she wanted to kill those things. Get revenge for the griffons they killed and injured.

As time passed, she only became angrier and more anxious while things happened around her. Gia moved on to deal with other injured griffons and she was left alone with Grunhilda and her anger. An eternity passed as the group occupied itself with helping whoever needed. For better or worse, Gillian’s griffons concluded they could repair the cart the roc damaged, and it could still be used. But only one thing would bring the morale back up and Gilda had decided to see it through.

Those weapons better be phenomenal for all the time they wasted finding the cursed feathering things.

When the Sky Sentries finally found the crates with the fabled weapons, Gilda understood why Gosalynn was so angry they weren’t used.

Oversized crossbows which bolts were hefty rods with backwards facing dents, also with ropes attached to them was the first. They would have helped keep those monsters in place for the spears to attack. The ‘spikes’ really made Gilda think of just how ready the northerners were to deal with that sort of threat. Short throwing spears with some kind of explosive attached to them. Gilda could imagine some maniac inventor had had enough of the oversized beasts creating problems.

“Damn…” Gertha grinned like she was herself a maniac, holding one such spear. “You guys aren’t kidding around! Let’s hunt some big birds!”

They had short fuses glued to the shafts, and Gilda supposed they had to be lit before throwing. “These things look ridiculously dangerous, Gertha. You’re not using them without training. Leave them to the Sky Sentries.”

Gosalynn took something similar to a wooden spoon, or a ladle, and showed Gertha how the spear went with the bottom into it. For extra leverage when throwing. “These are less effective than true magical weaponry, but they should cause some damage to those monsters. The bombs are made with magically infused shrapnel, so it’s a good idea to keep a distance. I’ve lost more than one recruit during training.”

The quartermaster was there too. “Each one in the hunting group grab a thrower and three spikes. At least three of you take the harpoons instead. The rest mount up a defense. Mind the ward with the injured. The magical heaters are bound to attract something if we’re not careful. And do get the cart repaired while we’re away.”

“You stay here, Gony.” Gosalynn told the older quartermaster griffon. “Keep them in line for me. Gillian is gonna need help. As for the hunting team, get ready. We’re leaving within a couple of minutes.”

Gilda simply watched again as the others did things around her. Gia had wrapped a dressing over her wound with a bandage around her torso in an awkward way, but it remained in place. Grunhilda sat next to her, patiently waiting for any command until she started fidgeting.

“Shouldn’t I take my thunderbow?” She asked, half-wondering, half-hopeful.

Gild grunted, watching as griffons dragged sealed crates and shook her head. They had tied themselves to the crates and pulled, dragging the things from the carts they were stored. But Gilda’s attention turned to Grunhilda. “I don’t want you shooting deadly magical arrows in the middle of a chaotic battle without proper training. I’m of half a mind to leave you here, to be honest because your bow may not even help a whole lot if the Sky Sentry has explosive javelins.”

“As if she had all that much training with her magical sword.” Grunhilda pouted and mumbled under her breath.

“What did you say?” Gilda squinted at her.

“Nothing…” Her thrall mumbled and looked away. “Nothing.”

If Grunhilda acting up wasn’t enough, Godwin came to her with a rifle on his back. He politely sat on the snow to talk to Gilda, but she spoke first. “You are most certainly not coming. I’m not going to have you end up dead by a stupid bird. I may not know a lot about northerner traditions, but I know you’re not to be treated as an adult yet. Your place is with your sister, helping her take care of Giza. If you want to help, help fix the carts and take care of the wounded.”

Oh, he fumed, but he nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am…”

That authority thing was kinda fun.

Finally, Gosalynn put a crossbow on her back after donning a quiver, securing it. “Let’s show those big birdbrains not to mess with us. Scouts, take point. The rest, follow me.”

“We’ll be here helping them protect the caravan, Lady Gilda.” One of the two Gunner guys saluted Gilda, and she nodded back to him while Gosalynn took off calmly. Gilda followed, with Grunhilda, Guille, Gertha, Gia and Geary hovering close.

“You’re coming too?” Gilda flapped her wings to stay airborne. The loremaster seemed naked with no more than her blue satin cape and a leather backpack when even Geary wore leather armor.

Gia huffed and pouted. “Madam Gelinda ordered me. You’ll probably need me there to help you deal with any injured and with the tom they abducted.”

The Sky Sentries hovered above ground too, waiting for Gosalynn’s command. A small group of hunters, identified by their assorted leather and cloth armors, longbows and practical short swords, took off straight towards the five peaks of the mountains.

Their destination was close, less than two hours’ worth of flight. Gilda hoped they’d be back before dark, but such also meant the rocs would probably just see them coming under the light of day. Given how the previous fight went, it could get ugly.

Once the scouts had a small advantage, Gosalynn led the others after them without much of a hurry. The sun was still up in the sky above the dark storm clouds and Gilda, flying close to the Sky Sentry Captain, imagined they had a good chance of returning before dark if nothing went wrong. What could go wrong? They had explosive spears to throw at beasts so dumb they attacked a cart thinking it was a living creature.

Next Chapter: Big Bird Eat Small Bird Pt. II Estimated time remaining: 13 Hours, 11 Minutes