Gilda enjoyed the trip back to the caravan a lot more than the one before their rescue mission. A pony or a southerner griffon might have complained the gray clouds still dominated the sky and the occasional rumble of thunder could be heard. Gilda had already learned to appreciate the right kind of stormy clouds. They vibrated, for lack of a better word, with Her Mother’s magic and even the smell of the storm made itself present, untainted by evil magic.

The oppressive cold and the feeling of impending doom had left them. The snowed fields, hills, and groves returned to being nothing more than the northerner snowed terrain. Cold, but tolerably so, even beautiful to behold from above.

The cold became Gilda’s friend, but she looked forward to wearing her new cloak. Perhaps a hot bath with Grunhilda. She followed Gosalynn’s lead, along the formation and the winds assisted them. A small boon to the battle-weary griffons. The hunters carrying her roc fledgling flew beneath them. Strong griffons, the additional weight didn’t bother them. They knew what they were doing and how to transport large animals.

The Sky Sentries carried the wounded in a similar fashion, bundled up in protective cocoons of leather and hoisted by pairs. They gave the stash of weapons and armors they procured a similar treatment. It resulted in a neat formation of griffons and a mess of randomly placed griffons carrying stuff, but everyone flew in their place.

Grunhilda flew next to Gilda and so did Godwin. Gertha and Gil flew next to Guille, out of formation as the griffons carrying the wounded. Gia and her thrall flew next to the blue griffon they rescued from the mutated rocs. Gia wanted to be sure he would be okay. She had also said she would need Gelinda’s help to deal with the problem. Something related to massive blood loss, and misaligned bones. Maybe something even more exoteric Gilda’s instinctive magical knowledge had no hope of understanding.

With no fog present, after a short flight she could see the distant tents and the carts spread around the area. With the sun still high above the clouds, the sentries around the camping ground noticed them. A commotion started and griffons congregated just outside the area delineated by the tents. Some jumped, others stood on their hindlegs, pumping their fists and cheering. Others hopped and flapped their wings while the smaller and nimbler cubs made quick pirouettes and happy dances. Others still broke into spontaneous singing with happy chirping and warbling.

Once they had landed, the hunters and Sky Sentries who had remained, along with caravan workers, hurried to help them with the cargo and the injured. The cheering of griffons didn’t diminish, though. The old Sky Sentry quartermaster went to Gosalynn as soon as she touched the snow and Gil’s father, Mister Gillian went to his daughter.

Madam Gelinda walked over to Gilda and smiled. “Welcome back. You seem to have found something interesting.”

“Just wait until we tell you the story!” Gilda beamed at her and the older griffoness laughed.

“I am glad you have returned mostly unharmed. I should see to the injured with Gia. Excuse me.” She smiled again and granted Gilda a curt nod before she trotted over to the area the injured were ‘craned’ to, near the tents. Gia had already landed there.

The thestral, shivering and chattering her teeth rushed to the tent she shared with the unicorn, who waited for her. Gil, after talking to her father, returned to Gilda, still carrying the flag. Gertha went to Guille, and Gilda figured she should too. But before, with Grunhilda and Godwin along, she went to the hunters who had brought the roc.

The northerner hunter griffons untethered themselves from the roc, but let it safely tied up, still asleep. When she approached, one of them, their older, graying out leader turned to Gilda with a satisfied grin. “He tolerated the trip well enough!”

“Of course, he did…” The younger, female version of him came closer. “Poor thing probably could’ve died from the stress alone. The Loremaster even knocked it out cold.”

“Better than him waking up in the air, losing his mind and dragging us along to a tree.” The older griffon concluded and the other agreed silently.

“What are you going to do with it, Lady Gilda?” The queen did a couple of excited little hops and grinned. “Do you think it can be domesticated? Maybe teach it to hunt? To fight?”

“Let’s hope it can be domesticated.” Gilda smiled. “I suppose that I’ll try and see what he can be taught. If it can even be domesticated. I’m gonna get Madam Gelinda to look at him as soon as she’s free.”

“Sounds good!” The older griffon nodded. “We’ll craft a cage for it. Something we can strap to the back of a cart, but strong enough to hold it gets grumpy. We can’t have it tied up like that all the way to Griffindell.”

“Great. Please do.” Gilda took a couple of seconds looking at the small roc, surrounded by curious griffons, tied up like a chicken on the way to the oven. “How can I repay you guys?”

The older griffon stared at her blankly for a second before he started laughing. The younger queen elbowed his flank. “I think she means it, Pappa.”

“I had never hunted, much less captured a roc like this!” The griffon slapped Gilda’s back and made her cough. “I should be the one thanking you!”

His daughter winked at Gilda. “We’ll let you know once we get his cage ready!”

“Well, thanks anyway.” Gilda grinned and talked to the griffons following her. “Come on, let’s give them space to work.

She barely had time to turn before Godwin’s beautiful sister latched on to him and squeezed the air out of him with a hug. Meanwhile their little sister grabbed on to his foreleg. “Godwin! Are you hurt?!”

Gilda and Grunhilda gave them space, and after he recovered his breath, he greeted his sisters. He petted the little chick and smiled at his older sister. “I’m just a little bruised. Lady Gilda and Grunhilda kind of took care of me.

“Kind of?” Gilda smirked and Grunhilda giggled. “If Grunhilda hadn’t put an arrow on that draugr you’d be Windigo chow by now.”

He coughed into his fist. “Anyway… I’m not hurt. Did everything go alright here?”

She frowned and twisted the corners of her beak. “We were all very worried. I was very worried! Madam Gelinda gave me some things to do so I wasn’t nervous, even though I had to watch Giza.”

They looked at the wee tiny griffon sitting on the snow and looking up at them before Georgia continued, relaxing her frown. “I was helping the others prepare arrows with the other younglings while watching Giza. Now I have to help Madam Gelinda with the injured griffons. Can you watch Giza for me?”

“Do you need me to do anything, Miss Gilda?” He asked Gilda and she shook her head.

“Go watch your little sister.” Gilda pointed. “If you guys need anything, you can look for me.”

He picked up the fledgling when she raised her little paws and walked off with her before Georgia hurried to join Gelinda and the injured griffons.

“I like them!” Grunhilda chirped, flaring her wings, and smiling.

Gilda chuckled. “I like them too, Grunhilda. Hey, go get yourself out of this armor and relax for a bit. Bring me my cloak.”

“Okay!” The Big Girl cawed.

Gilda watched her trot away before turning and joining Gelinda. Georgia was busy talking to one of the injured but conscious griffons while the Loremaster examined Guille. She had pulled open the leather and blanket the others had protected Guille with for the flight, and he was unconscious. He still bled a little out of his mouth and his breathing seemed too fast. It fired off some alarms in Gilda’s head.

“Precise cut. Someone really wanted him dead and knew what they were doing.” Gelinda remained calm, looking inquisitively at Gilda.

“An undead Swordmaiden.” Gilda raised her head so the Loremaster could see her new choker. “The Sky Sentries thought I should have this thing they found on her.”

Gelinda hummed, taking a couple of seconds to closely examine the jewel. “This is of Astrani make. I hope you dispatched her to the Stormy Eyrie.”

“I literally shot a lightning bolt at her.” Gilda frowned. “I think.”

“Well then, practice it. Use it willingly when you fight.” Gelinda frowned. “If you have this ability, it is your responsibility to control and use it properly.”

Gelinda turned back to Guille. “He should heal within days with the proper medications.” The old Loremaster told his mate and his sister close to Gilda. “We will need a sheltered place with some space so I can properly care for him and the other wounded. Additionally, some volunteers.”

Georgia immediately put her paw on her chest and so did Gilda. Her experience at the hospital, short as it was, ought to help. Gil kept holding the flag as she watched Gertha raise her paw.

“What is wrong with you dimwits?” Gelinda sighed. “You are fighters, and we have enough volunteers. You ought to help protect the camp and rest when you’re not fighting.”

“Well, you’re welcome!” Gertha glared at the old griffoness and Gilda laughed.

“Come on, Gertha. Let’s grab something to eat.” Gilda put a wing on her back and the pink griffoness grinned at her.

“Sure! I’ll get rid of this thing.” She bit at the chainmail she wore and started on her way to her tent. But she stopped and turned to look at Gelinda. “Hum... Please take good care of him. He’s a big goof but I like him.”

Gilda turned back to Gelinda. “Yeah. He got like this trying to help me.”

“Don’t worry, either of you.” The older griffoness smiled. “It’s my job. And I am quite good at it.”

Gertha turned again to leave, and Gelinda indicated the sleeping roc. “So, you seem to have found a new friend, Gilda…”

“I couldn’t leave him to die…” Gilda looked at the roc too, and at the griffons taking measurements. “The Windigos messed up his parents. Gia said it has probably been neglected by them because of it. The poor thing was terrified.”

Gelinda nodded. “I’ll see if I can help him. Nobody likes suffering infants of any species.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” Gilda smiled and waved goodbye.

Walking away, Gilda stretched the soreness out of her wings and limbs, trotting to the caravan’s actual camping ground. She saw a few griffons carrying weapons and horns. Surely southerner volunteers, and even a few caravan workers. They mostly acknowledged her presence. Some griffons traveling with the caravan, resting for the time, smiled, and waved at her. Some even approached her to meet and talk.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gil carrying the flag and following her around. Gilda rolled her eyes and decided not to make a scene out of it. Instead, she occupied herself with something else.

The smell of roasting chicken guided her beak and her suddenly complaining stomach. She found a curiously small campfire where a cub, about ten years old, stood on his hindlegs to spin a crank for a spit roasting duck. Flakes of seasoning stuck to it as the small griffon, filled with determination, spun and watched it with hawk eyes..

The fire sat on a properly secured campfire, under an improvised spit made of freshly cut and debarked wood. A small communal tent had been assembled nearby, but it would be empty if not for the camping tools, little beds, and a few magical heaters. A wooden slab served as a table and a collection of many aged teenagers and cubs plucked the feathers out of dead ducks. One of the older griffon cubs taught a trio of the youngsters how to properly clean the fowl of innards. Another group prepared arrows with the usable feathers and yet another seasoned the ducks.

The only adults in sight, guards armed with spears, shields, and bows, kept their distance. They let the cubs take care of themselves, merely watching from afar.

While Gilda studied the junior camp, a griffoness approached her. Old cub, or a very young queen? Much like Georgia and Godwin, Gilda found her stuck in a limbo between young adult and old cub. Funny Gilda had been told of the lack of importance of the festival, but kept finding among cubs the young adults, by any definition of the word but cultural. And one who didn’t even wear the red scarf.

Very pretty, anyway. Snowy white with silver highlights, her long and voluminous feathers bent around her head like a mane and curled at the tips in delicate adornments. And while not another Grunhilda, she had the build of a ‘northerner warrior’, with the familiar fierceness in her gray eyes.

She smiled a very northerner, contained, but earnest smile at Gilda. “Hello, Lady Gilda. May I help you with anything?”

“Yeah.” She waved an arching gesture. “Is this the junior camp, or what? And why aren’t the southerner parents freaking out with their kids decapitating ducks?”

The young northerner, a few fingers shorter than Gilda giggled despite her stern expression. “Well, the adults are with the adults, learning adult northerner things. The cubs are with the cubs, learning cub northerner things. I don’t suppose they have much time to worry about it.”

She shrugged. “They have to learn this one way or another. And it is better if they learn while young. The cubs aren’t obligated to come. You know, since they can do whatever they want. They came of their own will. The little ones learn quickly and have fun with everything. Sleep time turns into a short party because everyone is so tired.”

Gilda chuckled at the images her words conjured in her head. “Why aren’t Georgia and Godwin here?”

“Well, Georgia was.” The other explained. “But since she had training at Frozenlake, Madam Gelinda ‘volunteered’ her to help with the injured griffons. And Godwin went after the crazy banner lady and the batpony.”

She blushed and sat to hold her cheeks. “I hope he comes back. I really like having him around.”

“Ahem.” Gil, the crazy banner lady, cleared her throat behind Gilda. The latter turned to her with a growl.

“Do you plan on following me around with this thing the whole trip now?” Gilda initially scowled at her, along with a groan, but her expression turned to a frown. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Guille?”

“Well, yes!” Gil answered with a scowl of her own, but she turned her face and her voice turned sad. “Yes… But… But…”

“Okay…” The young northerner took a couple of steps back. “I’ll go back to supervising the cubs.”

While the other made a quick retreat, Gilda approached Gil, but with a concerned frown and a wing over her back. “Will you spill it out? Something’s been bothering you since the end of the fight. Are you scared Guille will die, or something? We gave him one of those fancy healing potions and Madam Gelinda is looking after him. He’ll be alright. It will just take a while.”

“I want to… But…” Gil stumbled on the words. “Look, it’s nothing.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. “I’m not a shrink. You either tell me what’s bothering you or I swear I’m gonna get Madam Gelinda involved.”

“Hum… Gia told me he needs to rest so the potion can work to its full potential.” Gil told her, trying to hide behind the pole with the flag. “And I’m a little scared, to be honest.”

“Scared?” Gilda cocked an eyebrow. “When I first saw you two together, I thought he was just some big guy you could hook up with to protect you. You know… The northerners being how they are, and how spooked you were.”

Gilda made sure to keep her voice down. Especially because Godwin or Grunhilda could come back at any moment.

She immediately kicked herself. When did she start worrying about such dumb stuff? He wasn’t even a ‘kid’! He was as adult as Grunhilda, and the only difference being a tradition she couldn’t care less about.

Apparently, Gilda identified as a northerner now and Gil showed a confused frown. She too had some thoughts in need of sorting, it seemed.

“Well, I…” Gil finally spoke, and her cheeks tinted. Not like when a griffon thinks naughty things, out of real, serious shame in her eyes she showed in her tearing eyes. “He was… All I really wanted a big dumb guy to protect me, since I was going to be living here whether I wanted or not. Then he gave me this thing, and…”

She raised her paw and showed Gilda the ring on her fourth finger. When Gilda agreed she would pay for it, she did it because it struck her as the right thing to do. She even concluded, correctly, Gil was just taking care of herself and Guille was being silly.

Gil looked at the ring too. A simple band of gold with a pattern of delicate repeating knot designs inlaid with green metal. Her voice broke, staring at it. “When he gave me this thing, I told him. That I was just looking for someone to protect me because I was scared… That I didn’t really feel anything for him. He thought for a while and just told me he would protect me. And… When I saw him lying on the red snow... It scared me more than losing my protector. Do you… Understand? I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I think I actually do, Gil.” Gilda told her softly, with a smile.

Apparently, The harpy was right and that was how griffons hashed love. They wanted to be independent, but they eventually concluded they needed one another. They joined for the benefits and before they knew it, just the thought of being apart hurt them. Typical griffon mindset too. Just don’t overthink it and the pieces will fall into their places. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t hit a griffon on the face like a brick on their way, though.

How healthy was the whole thing? Eh… Sanity was relative anyway. “I’m not one for sappy romance, but I think you gotta talk to him when he wakes up. And, you know, tell him your real feelings. I mean… It’s not like you’re breaking up, but the opposite. This is a good thing.”

Gilda even smiled at her and Gil smiled too, despite her frowny tear-stained face. “Hmm… I suppose you’re right…”

Maybe Gilda was more mature than she thought. Maybe she simply had a clear head. So silly.

“Great!” Gilda beamed, but then frowned. “Now, can you please stop following me around with this stupid thing?”

Gil stared at her for a second before she looked up at the flag. “Oh! Ah. Sure.”

She gave an uncomfortable chuckle and retreated a couple of steps. “I’ll plant it near the main campfire.”

It also amused Gilda how fast embarrassment could make a griffon run on three legs while holding an awkward pole. Well, as long as the drama was resolved…

“Gilda, we need to talk.” Captain Gosalynn came out of nowhere while she wasn’t looking.

“Speaking of drama…” She rolled her eyes.

“What?” The short griffoness cocked her head.

“Nothing.” Gilda responded quickly. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember the old griffon Godwin mentioned?” Gosalynn sat on the snow and Gilda did the same. “Who started telling the soldiers about the bad things the Griffonian government did and caused the soldiers to rebel back at Griffonstone?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gilda nodded. “Sure! Didn’t he move to the villa close to Wayfarer’s Rest?”

Gosalynn shook her head. “He came with us. He’ll be going to Frozenlake to meet Lady Geena. But that’s not the problem. He was in command of the operation that killed Grunhilda’s parents.”

Gilda hummed quietly and her cheery expression turned to a frown.

“He wants to talk to Grunhilda. To tell her of what he did and set things right.”

“How in the feather can he set things right?” Gilda almost raised her voice, but Gosalynn merely shrugged.

“Good griffons will see the virtue of a sincere apology.” True. “But Grunhilda is still your thrall. You get to say no and end it right here if you want.”

Also true, but was that right? Should she protect Grunhilda? Or would she be keeping her from getting some degree of closure?

Grunhilda arrived soon. Her legs carried her with a happy trot as she brought Gilda’s new cape. She sat and offered it to Gilda. “Here you go, Miss Gilda!”

Gilda didn’t take it, instead kept staring at the bigger griffoness and so did Gosalynn. Until Grunhilda deflated and her ‘feather ears’ flopped. “Hum… Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Grunhilda. You didn’t.” Gilda finally took her cape and donned it. “Would you like to talk to someone who was involved in the military operation Master Galahault mentioned? The one where they killed your parents and took you to Griffonstone?”

Grunhilda sat and frowned as she stared at the snow and then back at Gilda only to turn to the snow again. Gilda spoke again. “He wants to speak to you, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She whined and clicked her talons together. “What should I do, Miss Gilda?”

“Listen…” Gilda looked at her while Gosalynn waited. “If you don’t know, then perhaps it is a bad idea.”

Gosalynn took a second staring at Gilda before the latter nodded. Gosalynn then focused on Grunhilda. “He is not proud. He is an old griffon who did bad things he regrets. It may not make a difference for you, as it won’t change much. But talking to you may be important to him. I know griffons and I doubt he means ill. He’s suffering.”

Gilda would never get used to seeing the short griffoness with a thin voice talking so seriously, but her attention turned to Grunhilda. Her big friend wasn’t hard to read but remained silent and whatever went on inside her head remained behind an empty expression. Finally, after long enough griffons became curious about the silent conversation, she looked at Gilda. “I think I want to talk to him, Miss Gilda.”

“Alright.” Gilda nodded at her before she turned to Gosalynn. “Can you get it arranged?”

“I will. In a couple of minutes.” The Captain agreed before she left the two alone.

“Can you go with me, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda added after the other was out of earshot. Showing the concerned frown Gilda had grown used to seeing on her face when she felt vulnerable.

“Sure. No problem.” She smiled at Grunhilda and the other smiled back. “Just chill until then. Think up the questions you may have for him. And remember he is probably some poor old dude feeling guilty. Well… He should… But the point is that he changed.”

“I understand, Miss Gilda.” Big Girl smiled. “I’m not angry.”

“Great.” Gilda petted her on top of the head with a smile. “Let’s get this done, then we can get something to eat.”

Gosalynn didn’t take long to return. A curt nod from her, and Gilda encouraged Grunhilda with a tap of her wing on her back. “Come on, Grunhilda. Since you want to, let’s get this done.”

Grunhilda followed her to Gosalynn and the three of them walked along the tents with relaxing griffons outside, minding their businesses. Gosalynn led them to one of the tents among the many others. One of Gosalynn’s Sky Sentry stood watch and pulled open the flap for them.

Inside it looked just like Gelinda’s tent, with the bed rolled up among the rest of the supplies into a corner and a small table the old griffon sat behind. A young queen guarded him like his personal bodyguard. She shared in his completely gray coat, without the loss of luster by old age. Gilda nodded a silent greeting to her and to the old griffon.

She had the distinct impression she had seen that old griffon somewhere, but he merely acknowledged her arrival. When Grunhilda entered, his very lucid and blue eyes glinted with tears, and he covered his face with his paws, muttering something to himself.

The griffoness next to him softly called him ‘grandpa’ and held him. Gilda remained in silence, not to intrude on Grunhilda’s moment. Her friend white griffoness shuffled her feet as she sat on the tent’s floor, witnessing the old griffon’s distress. “Hum… I am not really angry… I just thought you wanted to meet me. So… I came…”

“Mother above… It is like she has come back to haunt me.” The old griffon finally looked at Grunhilda again, speaking with a weak, croaky voice. He released a subtle sigh. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

Grunhilda didn’t respond. Her eyes simply shifted to the side for a second and the griffon went on. “The Northerners tell me you have become Miss Gilda’s thrall because of my actions. That you owe her your life.

“Hum…” Grunhilda shuffled her feet nervously again. “Yes…”

“My superiors have taken everything from me, Grunhilda.” He held the edge of the table. “My rank, my family. They forced me to retire and then took my home and my possessions. But I took away your mother and your father. I would give anything if it would undo what I did.”

“I’m not angry at you, mister.” She spoke softly, almost as though she thought she shouldn’t. “I’m angry at the bad griffons at Griffonstone.”

He still focused on her and spoke despite nodding to her words. “The Mother of Storms spoke to me. She has commanded I return to the northerner lands. She has said I shall recover my strength and that I will see my family and my honor restored. And yet, Her words mean nothing next to this shame. It keeps me from surrendering as I have a debt I must pay.”

“I do not deserve redemption.” He concluded. “There is no easy way of doing this, so I will be forthcoming.”

He stopped and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “My mistakes have cost you dearly, Miss Grunhilda. It is a debt that I don’t believe can be paid. It is the sort of thing only blood will satisfy.”

His tired old limbs reached under the table, and he produced a weapon. He placed it on the table and Grunhilda already grimaced at the sight of the weapon itself before he even spoke. “I believe the life I have lived is tarnished by what I have done to yours. And this is the only way I can see to diminish this abyss.

“Grandpa…” The young griffon lady gasped. “You cannot. The Harpy has decided there is still much you must do.”

“I love you, Glenda. But I haven’t asked you your opinion.” He frowned. “This is between me and Miss Grunhilda. Even She cannot take away the weight of what I have done to this young lady.”

Grunhilda’s eyes stayed on the weapon and Gilda refrained from wincing. The black iron, polished like a mirror shone under the magical light hanging from the ceiling. Silver finishings and varnished wood completed the simple weapon. Unlike the complex model the militias used, it belonged to an older model. The sort which was probably used in the Second Griffon War. The hammer had been locked back, and the metal pan it would strike sat in place to generate the spark which would ignite the powder inside. Only the trigger needed to be pulled and it would fire.

“I have lived my life and squandered it trusting the wrong griffons.” He added. “It is a paltry offering, but if The Harpy’s words hold true, then it still has some value to it.”

Much as it distressed Gilda, she found logic in the old griffon’s reasoning. And she too saw Grunhilda had the right to decide. She did her best not to show anything outwardly, but Gilda held her breath when Grunhilda’s paw reached for the weapon. The old griffon showed no reaction other than keeping his eyes straight at Grunhilda.

She saw the panicked stare on his granddaughter. Her frantic eyes, shifting from Gilda to Grunhilda and the weapon. But Gilda decided to ignore her unless she tried to stop Grunhilda. She trusted Grunhilda to make the right decision. More than that, her decision.

Her friend held the weapon in her paws, and she freed the hammer, letting it rest before she returned the weapon to the table. “I don’t want you to die, mister. I understand what you mean, but it wouldn’t make me happy.”

“Instead, I want you to help the Northerners win.” Grunhilda still spoke. “If Mother Harpy has uses for you, my decision is that you do everything you can to bring us victory.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

“I mean it.” She added, raising her voice. “I want to see the griffons who ruined both our lives suffering for what they did.”

Then she concluded. “And I forgive you.”

The old griffon took his weapon from the table. “I promise you, Miss Grunhilda. They will regret what they did.”

“I guess we are done, then?” Gilda stood on her four legs and Grunhilda followed. “If you need anything, Mister Gamaliel?”

He nodded and Gilda continued. “If you need anything, you can ask. I’m sure the northerners are taking good care of you but do let me know if I can do anything.”

“I will, Lady Gilda. Thank you for allowing me to reach Grunhilda.” He had changed. His face didn’t show as many tired wrinkles. She nodded at him and then at his granddaughter and left with Grunhilda.

Outside, the cold and the snow remained the same and they walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Gilda steered her friend towards their tent, and the smell of food being prepared came from everywhere. Something to eat would do both of them wonders.

“Did I do the right thing, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda finally spoke, but kept her eyes on the snow. “I feel as though some griffons would have expected me to kill him.”

“Just because it worked for Godwin, it doesn’t mean it would’ve worked for you, Grunhilda.” She didn’t take her eyes from their path either. “He’s an old and respected general. Not some scummy mercenary lowlife. He regretted what he did, and not just because you could’ve killed him. He had decided he was ready to die a long time ago because of what he did.”

“You’re a good griffon, Grunhilda.” Gilda smiled, looking at her friend at her side.

They walked in silence among the happy griffons, talking and preparing for dinner as the sun prepared to dip beyond the horizon at the Princess’ command. The party’s return with their captured comrade elevated spirits and most of them had no idea what had transpired. But anyway, the result was satisfactory.

But Grunhilda spoke again. “Do you think Mamma and Pappa made it? To the Stormy eyrie?”

Gilda chuckled. “By the story Master Galahault told us, I’m sure they did.”

But her chuckle died in her throat and her beak lost its smile. What of her own mother? Gilda didn’t even know her father. Once the Allmother talked to her again, Gilda would ask. Hopefully, she would get a straight answer. She smiled to herself, though. She didn’t even consider the possibility of what Gelinda had told them being false. Just a tale, as Gia had put it. She just hoped mom didn’t become some Windigo slave.

Then again, once The Harpy’s plans came to fruition, she supposed all the griffons the Windigos had claimed would be free. What an epic sight it would be.

“Can we eat something, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda looked at her. “I am really hungry now.”

“Yeah.” Gilda smiled at her. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starved.”

Her destination was the agglomerated tents of ‘the leadership’. She supposed someone would have some food ready for her and the others. However, a short walk on the way took them close to the large ‘single griffon’ communal tent and a commotion made itself heard.

Gilda found a perplexed Gelinda sitting on the snow as she watched a congregation of angry griffons doing what they did best. Complaining and not lifting a talon to actually fix whatever the problem was. Even Gertha sat on the snow and made angry gestures at a male flapping his wings, each talking over each other. While most of the present griffons wore cloaks, capes, and other garments to guard against the cold, the pink mercenary wore the cotton undergarment she usually used under her armor.

Camping furniture and chests, bundles of assorted items and supplies littered the area. Even the level-headed Gillian could be found amid the pointless mess of angry griffons shouting at each other.

Gilda could die. Just as she had witnessed her insecure friend deal with the old griffon and their grievances. Why, Mother Harpy? Why were griffons like that?

Once the general feeling of hopelessness passed away, and sitting on the snow, staring at the sky, became awkward, she resumed walking to approach the very confused Madam Gelinda.

Such a shame Gelinda didn’t become confused very often. She had the most adorable perplexed stare Gilda had ever seen. Despite Gilda’s arrival, the Loremaster spoke to the griffon yelling with Gililan.

“What do you mean, tom?” She gave a frown and even tilted her head slightly. “Do you mean there is no space for all of you?”

“I don’t have a clue what is going on, ma’am.” The griffon more complained than he explained as he picked up bundles of leather from the snow. “All I know is that I may have to spend the night outside because of this mess!”

Once he grabbed all the bundles he stomped away and left Gelinda blinking her confusion-filled eyes. She turned to Gilda, as though it was some ‘southerner griffon issue’ she could explain.

Before he could leave, Gilda held the griffon by his tail. He yelped, dropping the leather again. “Dude, instead of bitching like you’re in a bar during elections, why don’t you talk to the griffons that can do something about the problem? Us, for example.”

He pulled his tail and glared at her. “I don’t really know what is going on!”

“My brother is injured, out in the cold!” Gertha came to Gilda too, flared wings and a scowl. “We have a problem with the communal tents. There’s some sort of disagreement.”

Gilda threw her forelegs open. “What kind of disagreement? Madam Gelinda said she needed the tent to care for the wounded griffons! There is nothing to disagree about!”

“Geldar is the one who talked to Garnet and she’s the one that said it’s not happening.” The male griffon straightened the fur on his tail. “All I know is that we can’t take our stuff to the other tent.”

“Who the frick are Geldar and Garnet?!” Gilda sighed.

“Geldar is our leader.” The griffon sat with a frown, once satisfied with his tail. “You know. Of the LOL. Garnet is the leader of the… Also, the LOL, but a different one.”

“Uh… Come again?” Gertha frowned. Grunhilda scratched her head.

Gelinda shook her head. “Gilda, I feel lost, and I hate this feeling. What is happening? Are they splitting into factions? Or is it a split within one faction we didn’t even know existed? Is this normal?”

Gillian approached them. “It’s not about factions, Madam Gelinda. We didn’t know, but the griffons from one communal tent don’t like the ones from the other tent.”

Gilda ignored them and stared at the griffon. His eyes shifted and he raised a paw from the snow with a hum before she spoke. “I don’t like this. This sounds stupid. I don’t want that in my caravan. If anyone is going to say who can or can’t sleep anywhere, it’s me. So… tell me where these Geldar and Garnet are because we gotta talk.”

Gelinda waved at Gilda. “Don’t go to them. Summon them to you.”

Gilda gave a blank stare and then she blinked a couple of times, soon letting a grin grow on her beak. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Fetch me this Geldar and this Garnet. We are going to have a conversation.”

“Uh… Me?” He took a step back. “Now? I’m in the middle of-”

“Yes. You.” Gilda’s glare intensified. “Now.”

He left the leather pieces and rushed away, needing no more encouragement. Gilda then turned to the congregated griffons. “The rest of you shut up and go make yourselves useful. Nobody is sleeping out. I’m gonna fix this mess.”

Gertha let out a dry chuckle. “Eh… I think they just decided to choose a leader. Or something. You know… A bunch of griffons with a sort of leadership to organize their efforts. Doesn’t seem so bad.”

“It is ‘so bad’.” Gelinda retorted curtly. “‘Or something’ gets griffons killed in the Northern Wilderness. The caravan already has leadership. Gilda, Master Gillian, Captain Gosalynn. Any degree of leadership, even beneath theirs, must be carefully curated and seldom dispensed.”

“Especially among southerner griffons. They know little of the North or caravanning.” Gillian spoke calmly. “There is a good reason I defer to all input from Quartermaster Godden and Captain Gosalynn. Er… Lady Gilda too… After all, she’s paying my wages and sponsoring the expedition.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. Supposedly, she ought to do whatever Lady Gwendolen said then. Well, she kinda was, already. Nonetheless, he turned to them. “I don’t like this nonsense. If they create trouble, I’m gonna deal with them and I don’t care if the others don’t like it. This whole expedition thing was an accident. My plan was to travel alone to Grifindell. Certainly not to take responsibility for a whole caravan of thousands of clueless griffons.”

Finally, she concluded by waving her paw in a gesture ending the discussion. “This is the Gilda Show. And if I’m not happy, things change. They’re only here because I accepted taking them with me.”

“Well, I don’t call you ‘boss’ for nothing…” Gertha chuckled and Grunhilda remained quiet.

The caravan master, Master Gillian, shrugged. “Sounds fair.”

“Congratulations, Gilda. You are learning.” Her superior smile didn’t amuse, though.

She thought of calling Gosalynn too. But the number of griffons who started gathering around out of curiosity should attract her soon enough. And Gilda didn’t have to wait for a long time before the griffon she had sent returned. He didn’t bring a pair of griffons though. He brought at least twenty griffons and none of them seemed friendly.

Thoughts of a rebellion budding on her caravan suddenly occupied her thoughts, as ridiculous as the idea sounded. In the middle of the wilderness, completely dependent on the northerners. But she had heard of griffons doing stupid things before, like electing the same corrupt politicians over and over.

Only when they stopped in front of her, she noticed something peculiar. All griffons around the communal tent were male. The griffon she assumed was Geldar was male, and all the griffons behind him too. But Garnet was female, and so were all the griffons with her.

“Aw, for feather’s sake…” She massaged her lores. “I can’t believe this.”

Next Chapter: Still Perfectly Normal Griffoning Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 56 Minutes