If a single color could represent the cold, it had to be the white. Surely, fedora-wearing ponies, with their hooves covered in rainbow smudges, might disagree. Hailing from the art schools in Canterlot, they might huff and say such honor belongs to the blue. They could neigh the purple, or the green best represent the cold. Obviously, ponies and their harsh, obtuse colors would understand them better than griffons, who demonstrably could see more colors. Obviously…

In truth, most griffons didn’t care for art, much less theory of colors. Nonetheless, Gilda would grab those hypothetical ponies by the mane because theory didn’t matter. She would shove their collective, hypothetical face into the snow and politely ask them to reconsider. White best represented cold because she said so. Snow Mountains taught such lessons for free. No need for moving to Canterlot or suffering stuffy unicorns.

‘But white is the color of purity!’, they might neigh insistently.

Gilda would shove their face on The Harpy’s belly, and if they survived, she would ask them to amend. Because only a completely evil, morally bankrupt creature, devoid of sympathy or any semblance of kindness could conjure up so much snow in one stormy night.

Windigos, something, something; Old Unicorn Kings whatever… Gilda didn’t care. Digging through snow in the unholy chill of the dark before morning precluded any conversation about the morality (or lack thereof) of such cold. The abhorrent amount of snow just added insult to injury.

Maybe she had surrendered to bad mood, but she should not have told Grunhilda ‘it’s alright’. Nor told Godwin he didn’t have to help either. All because she wanted to be nice.

The conclusion? Being nice sucked.

Instead, she should show her strength and her mettle. These sounded as the way of The Harpy. Griffons respected strength much more than kindness and would flock under the wings of such a griffon willing to protect them. Although, ‘protect’ also carried the wrong connotation. More like ‘guard and assist under expectation of loyalty’. Much more griffon-y. Supposedly something like the liege and vassal system between The Lion, the Northerner Lords and Ladies, and the griffons who lived under them.

No matter how Gilda tried to reframe the situation, she still had to dig through the cold snow. Trying to pretend her paws didn’t threaten to freeze and fall off. Only because she wanted to look tough. If only snow wasn’t so wet…

Once she dug her way out of the tent, she paw-shoveled the snow out. Finally, she hopped out of the way to puff out her chest and declare her victory against the snow. With a huge smile and doing her best not to clatter her beak at the cold. Her nasal speech didn’t help, though. “There you go guys. You can come out now!”

“Thank you, Miss Gilda!” Godwin climbed his way out first, wearing his black wolfskin cape. He held his little sister wrapped in a small, fluffy blanket against his chest.

Grunhilda came out naked as the day she was born, hopping out of the trench, flaring her wings and shaking her ‘mane’ of fluffy feathers. She gave a little hop and smiled radiantly, drawing a lungful of air, and sighing contently. “Oh, it is so refreshing to be out in the open!”

Why did she just not feel cold? Stupid northerner blood. Even after Gilda had started to build some resistance, Grunhilda could dip into a frozen lake and enjoy.

After a second of Gilda staring daggers at her, Grunhilda innocently offered her the white cape and red scarf. Truth be told, she should have been wearing the things before she came out, but she didn’t want the snow to ruin her awesome cape. The pristine fluffy snow stayed at the top layer. Beneath, the mud had become frozen, muddy filth. Her new and awesome cape of white feathers didn’t deserve such a fate.

Their campfire sat above a platform of split logs and the guards for the final shift, a pair of northerner caravanners, greeted them from the fire. Each sat on a ‘general purpose’ leather sheet and wore heavy fur cloaks, mostly tolerating the cold. The female waved a gray-green paw and cawed a greeting while her male companion adjusted the pot with the spiced wine by the fire. The smell rising from it carried more spice than alcohol, which meant it was ready for consumption.

Gilda enjoyed her supposed subordinates not getting stuffy around her and approached with her companions to accept a mug with the hot and spicy beverage. The smell of wine, star anise and peppercorns burned through her clogged nares like it melted away the cold.

“How did things go during the night?” She smiled and breathed with sweet relief before a sip.

“No problems at all. Nothing more than the wind and the snow. It just cleared, which is why the Sky Sentries sounded the horn. We are actually a little late.” The greenish female chirped with a good mood explained by her mug of spiced wine. “We should get moving again soon.”

The male offered her a plate with hot roasted white meat and smiled at little Giza following the plate around with her eyes. “Leftover from dinner.”

“Best breakfasts ever.” Gilda chuckled and gave the plate to Grunhilda who passed it around to Godwin too. Giza gobbled up all she could grab when the plate came near her.

“Master Gillian, if he knows what he is doing, is going to push the caravan today.” The male sentry told them. “Getting food on your stomach will make it easier.”

Grunhilda made no hassle about plucking further pieces of food with her talons and Gilda followed. A bit dry, but better than most of the things she’d normally eat. It even made the seasoning stronger. That said, while Godwin fed Giza another piece, she grabbed one for herself and looked at it. Griffonstone no longer meant normal. Gilda didn’t know if she could consider herself an inhabitant griffon of the north, but she sure felt like one. She even came to enjoy the trip.

Maybe fighting off the Windigos and the draugar could be enough of a rite of passage. She chuckled, firmly holding the mug, and drinking from it. She still had to become ominous and edgy, but at least she had the ‘liking alcohol’ part down.

As her eyes moved to Grunhilda’s rump while she helped Godwin nest Giza next to the fire with her blanket, she figured she probably had the ‘horny’ part figured out too.

Other spots of uncertain light told her griffons started getting out of their tents and the commotion said some of them needed help. With the amount of snow blocking their tent, it didn’t surprise her. But other griffons would take care of helping them, even if the sounds of freaking out griffons could be funny. She turned her attention to the approaching green, lithe-bodied griffoness with big and expressive turquoise eyes. Gilda recognized her as Garnet’s ‘assistant’ from yesterday.

While too late to look away and pretend she hadn’t seen the small queen, Gilda did try to ‘hide’ behind her mug of hot spiced wine, but to no avail.

“Hi! Good…. Early morning… Lady Gilda!” She wore a deep blue cape with white fox skin around the edges. She kicked it with a hindleg, sitting next to Gilda.

“I meant it when I said I was going to nail a griffon to a cross if they bothered me about Garnet or Geldar again…” Gilda grumbled with an unfriendly glare, but the young queen didn’t let it discourage her.

“Well, good thing I’m not here to talk about them!” She giggled, producing a small book and a pencil from under her wing and cape.

Gilda’s surprised eyes blinked a couple of times after she put down the mug. “You’re not? I thought you supported her.”

“Yeah. I actually was her secretary.” Emphasis on ‘was’, she grinned at Gilda with her cute, short beak.

“Okay…” Fair enough, but Gilda’s eyebrow raised as much as her curiosity. “What do I care?”

“Look, I’m a very young, smart, resourceful, and cute griffon girl.” The other declared putting a paw on her chest under the cape and raising her beak like she was a work of art. “I am the ideal secretary!”

“I don’t need a secretary…” Gilda Grumbled.

“Of course you do!” She didn’t let Gilda’s bad disposition bother her and explained, despite the unfriendly glare of a griffoness trying to drink her morning beverage in peace. “Once this enterprise is over you will be ready to settle down somewhere. Anywhere you go, a griffon who knows how to deal with money, suppliers and service providers will be invaluable!”

“Not interested.” Gilda told her curtly. If her words didn’t convey her annoyance, her eyes should clearly spell ‘Piss off.’

“Look…” The younger griffoness grinned a little more and spoke a little faster. “Grunhilda is big and intimidates enemies. I’m cute and intimidate numbers… I can do all the maths and the organization stuff for you!”

She started counting on her fingers, which didn’t help the case of a griffon selling her math skills. “All I need is a place to live, some food and some adequate comforts due to my station. Maybe a salary could be arranged?”

“Did you fight with Garnet or something?” Obviously, she had a falling out, or something with Garnet. Truly a cute and most likely competent assistant, something Gilda likely would need eventually. She actually even had cuteness on her side. But cuteness being the concern, both Grunhilda and Gia covered it. Dealing with numbers… Gilda surely could make Gia take care of it. All of that aside, she probably would be useful. Gilda just didn’t know how yet.

The cute queen chuckled, more nervous by the second. “Let’s say Garnet is not the best boss ever.”

“I mean…” Gilda rolled her eyes and put down her mug. “You cited a lot of good qualities; you just didn’t mention you’re not very loyal.”

“Oh…” Man… Her enthusiasm died faster than northerners could eat a caribou. She finally stopped grinning like a used wagon salesgriffon and started fidgeting with her fingers like a damn griffon in trouble. “Hum… I don’t know what to say.”

Deep inside, way at the back of her head, a small Princess Celestia wagged her hoof and told Gilda to be nicer to a griffon in need, as she had once found herself. Gilda metaphorically squashed her and let the being-the-boss-ness wash over her. Like getting soaked in berry mead.

“Yeah…” Gilda finally spoke again, raising her eyes from the mug. “We’ll think about perks after you’ve shown what you can do for me.”

“Oh! Thank you, Lady Gilda!” The young queen hopped in place a few times while Gilda quickly thought of something for her to do so she would get out of her face.

“For now, go talk to Mister Gillian. Figure out how much money I actually have. We left Thunderpeak with some fifteen thousand Eagles.” Gilda took another sip from her very northerner hot morning beverage. She probably had the figure wrong because of Gilda’s armor and stuff, but whatever. She just wanted to give the annoying bird something to do.

“Right away, ma’am’! Will there be anything else?” The griffon girl practically vibrated with excitement.

“Yeah, you haven’t told me your name, you dork.” She deadpanned at the lithe queen and her sheepish, embarrassed grin.

“Oh! I’m Gisele! Gisele of Girdershade!” And then she just stayed there, grinning at Gilda like an idiot.

Huh. Girdershade. If Gilda remembered correctly, it happened to be a small city in the middle of nowhere. It owed its existence to private initiative wanting to get supplies to the newfangled factories in Fernland. They practically gathered a bunch of griffons from small settlements and stuffed them in a planned city. They would support most of the railway construction and infrastructure from Thunderpeak and Beachhome to Fernland Hold.

The idea was to take the northerner iron and imported coke to the hungry steel forges in Fernland. The coke would come from the giant port on Beachhome on the Strait of Dove, across from Hippogriffia. Such would be the south leg of the railway while the other would go north to Thunderpeak, both meeting in Girdershade. Iron and coke, and whatever else, would be stored there and hauled east to Fernland. The steel would come the opposite way and get distributed from either end. Some would even be sold to the Equestrian Heartland and Hippogriffia. It should significantly improve Griffonia’s gross domestic product, which Gilda knew basically as how much money a country had in the form of generated goods accessible to the market. The newspapers did teach griffons something occasionally, mostly due to an information campaign from the government. They wanted griffons to know they were helping, especially during elections.

Gisele did have a curious accent which sounded like the northerner one, as Gidershadians hailed from less developed regions of Griffonia which still spoke Griffonese. Before Princess Twilight Sparkle came up with her law for early language tutoring, that is. Unless Gilda was mistaken, as soon as the Griffonian government authorized the construction of the city, they started campaigns to get griffons out of their hovels and into the planned communities of their ‘city of the future’.

She had never been there but knew it to basically be a mini-Manehattan. The Royal House swooped in like a hawk. Celestia made it rain money and the new city gained schools, a high school, a ‘technical school’ which supposedly offered professionalization classes to get griffons employed in relevant jobs. It even got a hospital and a giant train station for both freight and passengers with capacity to move enormous amounts of cargo and workers where they needed to be. Even a university was planned at some point.

On paper, it sounded great. The railway would reach further north to Stormvalley from Thunderpeak. Gilda had no idea where it was, but during the time, she knew it as the place the northerners concentrated all the iron they extracted at industrial scale. The news became inundated with the drama for months, until it all collapsed when the northerner governor told the Chancellor and the private enterprises to take a hike. If they wanted iron, they would have to take what Snow Mountains would give them through the caravans.

Why? Because the northerner weaponsmiths needed the iron to make their weapons so they could fight the monsters. Monsters which nobody else even believed existed at the time. Gilda even remembered some noble northerner lady explaining to the newspapers the monsters roaming Snow Mountains would destroy the railway and they couldn’t guarantee the workers’ safety. Add to that nobody even knew stuff like ‘astrani steel’ existed. As far as the southerners were concerned, to present day, the Astrani were not even a legend. Just some made up bullshit the northerners invented.

The Tribunal of the Ignorant Masses concluded the northerner governor must have some ulterior motive. Which Gilda now knew he technically did, but that was beside the point since the northerners were right. The monsters would wreak havoc on the railway.

At the time the Griffonian Chancellor was a smarmy dude with a penchant for saying he knew nothing of the corruption in his government. Always investigating, never doing anything, much less admitting problems existed. At least he didn’t accuse his opponents like Gail did. Ironically, this project’s failure was one of the reasons Gail even got elected.

Without a direct connection to Stormvalley the iron shipments just didn’t arrive fast enough. Come to think of it, the northerners might even be hoarding their iron well before anyone noticed. It probably was what made authorities wake up to the fact something was up. It was also around the same time Princess Twilight Sparkle came up with her Early Language Tutoring Act, or whatever she called it. It ought to expedite access to schools and higher education to young creatures through free Common Equestrian tutoring. Since most of the educated world spoke Common Equestrian.

Gilda could even imagine Madam Gelinda vociferously accusing the Pony Princess of attacking their northerner culture and the Chancellor of trying to gobble up their iron. The stupid Griffonian government failed to understand the cultural relevance of the iron to the northerners and how important their language was to their cultural identity. They started pointing fingers and everything started to collapse. Which brought up something curious. Celestia should have seen this coming from miles away, if she had believed King Grover that The Harpy was real.

Gilda almost chuckled at the image of a distraught Twilight Sparkle opening the newspaper to a photo of herself and a vociferous speech from Lady Gwendolen accusing her of assaulting the northerners and their culture. If one well-intentioned creature existed, it happened to be Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Miss Secretary Bird here was a prime example of Girdershadians and the fallout from that project after it went up in flames. When it became obvious the thing was a pipe dream never to realize, griffons would leave Girdershade as soon as they could. They settled for better paying jobs in the major cities as soon as the private interest died. The Griffonian government shrugged and forgot about the railway, the promises made to factory owners in Fernland, and Girdershade. Fernland still suffered greatly because of all the invested money which disappeared. With the present crisis, it became worse, as the Northerners stopped ferrying the iron altogether and Queen Novo closed the gates of Hippogriffia. The only other way for ships to reach Beachhome was through the magical storm that was the Maelstrom. Fat chance of that happening and insurance companies probably laughed at anyone with that idea.

The public blamed the Griffonian government and its greed. They had found and facilitated another way Griffonia would get choked by another nation while the Chancellor shoved their money under his tail. They believed the northerners were a bunch of backwards barbarians, and that the Equestrian Federation showed signs of getting old and tired. Outside, creatures thought griffons themselves were the problem.

Maybe the problem really was the Equestrian Federation… Everyone assumed everyone would be nice and griffons just didn’t work like that. Gilda imagined Canterlot kept funding the hospital and schools though. Girdershade, at the least, maintained the finished stretch of the railway and got griffons an education. It would have worked if griffons were ponies and would just stick around for the sake of the community. Or if it was full of northerner griffons and their sense of duty. Ironically.

The result was griffons like Gisele. Educated birds with no place to work in their hometown. Although, Gilda imagined they would happily work for Gilad once he took over Griffonia and things started running again. Heck, Gilda could even imagine Lady Gwendolen with a huge smile opening the Great Transgriffonian Railway, or something.

Gilda smiled and rubbed her chin. Almost as though someone had planned it all along and the suckers had all played into her elegant black paw. It was nothing new, but she liked whenever she noticed The Harpy’s black paws pulling strings.

“Well, get to it…” Back to the present, Gilda told Gisele, still there looking at her. With a wince, the young griffoness turned on her tail and galloped on the still dark snow. Gilda smiled serenely and took another sip from her spiced wine. Being the boss felt awesome.

Anyway, once done with her drink and with the meat nicely seated in her stomach, she stood and rinsed the fat off her paws with the snow. Grunhilda sat next to her, pecking at the food, not doing anything particularly useful. “Hey, Big Girl, Godwin.”

Both immediately straightened with a good and clear ‘Yes ma’am!’. Godwin let out an annoyed sigh when he realized he had done it, but Gilda decided against picking on him. “I want both of you ready to go as soon as the caravan is prepared to move. Make sure everything is packed before that. I’ll go check on our roc. Get everything ready to go before I’m back.”

Gillian and Gosalynn had ordered griffons be up and ready before sunrise the night after they left Wayfarer’s Rest. The caravan had listened. Most had even eaten their breakfast rations, and some had done most of the job to get their stuff packed. They liked the idea of moving as soon as possible, getting the caravan back on its way again. Gilda sure did. The snow got in the way, though. The process didn’t go as fast as it could, but Gilda supposed a few minutes, or even an hour wouldn’t break their schedule.

She rolled her eyes with an annoyed groan. As if the roc attack hadn’t already messed up their schedule. And speaking of rocs, she found a lot of activity on the detached camp with the hunters and the roc.

Several torches on stakes and a campfire offered sufficient light and a reassuring warmth. Griffons, as expected, busied themselves with getting things ready for leaving, but the northerners worked fast. Just as she arrived, they finished pulling a tarp, heavy with snow, from over the cage and some of them took it aside. Others washed the food utensils or just preened themselves. They greeted Gilda as she passed them, in the typical restrained northerner way, but noticeably warmer than the first time.

The old, dark-gray and silver-speckled hunter leader and his similar daughter, plus the blue and white tom Gilda assumed to be her mate had gathered next to the roc. She had a large wooden plate with freshly cut meat cubes about the size of Gilda’s fist. The queen offered him one of the juicy and red pieces with a large tong when Gilda saw them.

Judging by her sad frown and the other two watching, the feeding didn’t go very well, so Gilda hurried her step. The young male greeted her with a fraction of their enthusiasm from the previous day. “Good morning, Lady Gilda.”

The roc barely moved. His back rose and fell with his quickened breathing, and he had surprisingly expressive eyes for a large bird. Gilda could read his apathetic frown as if it was on a griffon’s face. He had plenty of space to move, but remained laid on his belly, with his legs under him. His fluffy plumage remained flat against the floor and his head just rested on it too. Absolutely no light in his eyes, and nothing seemed to catch his attention. Except when the queen offered him the meat again and he turned his beak away.

“He doesn’t want to eat…” The queen turned to Gilda with her wings sagging sadly from her sides, under her blue cape.

“Is he sick?” Her mate looked at the older griffon who shrugged his paws up. “I mean… His parents probably didn’t take good care of him.”

“Likely has pneumonia.” The older griffon gestured to the roc. “Just look at him, breathing so fast. Nobody with their lungs full of nastiness wants to eat.”

“He has to eat.” The queen insisted with a frown and the bird, again turned away from the food. “He won’t get better if he won’t eat!”

“Did you call Lady Gia? Or Madam Gelinda?” Gilda asked as she sat, staring at the others and the roc.

“We called for either of them.” Her mate told Gilda. “But they’re likely too busy with the injured griffons.”

Gilda scratched her head and gave herself an unsure hum. Her mom would probably know what to do. She always took good care of Gilda’s pets. Maybe The Harpy would know what to do, given griffons were half-bird anyway. The hunters, the griffons who understood the wild animals were at a loss, so, what could Gilda do? Maybe summon up some old memory? But unfortunately, none came to her.

Well, Gilda knew those things were kinda intelligent. Intelligent enough they would mourn a dead partner and take care of their infants. Unless the feathering Windigos messed with them, of course.

It might sound silly, but after a moment of thought Gilda knew what was wrong with the little roc. His parents started ignoring him, changed into monsters, and then a bunch of griffon assholes killed them and put him in a cage. On top of not being able to breathe right.

She sighed, hopped onto the split log platform, and sat next to him. It was a little damp. The griffons probably had scrapped the snow off it, but it didn’t bother her anyway.

“Hey, little guy.” She managed to get his attention, at the least. His eye aimed at her, even if he remained slumped against his cage’s floor. The yellow and black eyes of a sight predator, very black in the dark certainly held intelligence behind the sadness it showed. “It sucks, huh?”

He let out a deep sigh and his eyes lost themselves in the infinite dark of the night again. Did he understand her? Maybe, maybe not. But she had talked to pets before.

“Listen, I’m sorry about your parents… But they attacked us. They took one of us away. I think they meant for you to eat, but I suppose you were too scared, weren’t you?” She came closer to the wooden structure, letting her weight on it. The big bird focused back on her.

“Yeah… They were suffering… It’s not ideal, but there was no way to help them. We had to kill them, and now the Windigos can’t fuck with them anymore.” She scratched her head and made a pensive frown, turning to the others. “Uh… Is it okay to say ‘fuck’ in front of the kids in the north?”

The queen shrugged, her father raised a silvery eyebrow, and her mate put up his paws while the infant roc looked at one and the other. “It’s a big bird…”

Truth be told, it probably was the same for griffons too. Some lost their mother when they were too young and too stupid to understand that she did her best to give them a decent education. Others were just so unlucky their parents died when they were too young to take care of themselves or even understand.

Did the adult rocs understand what they were doing? Judging by the way the undead Swordmaiden seemed to suffer, she was aware of the tragedy that had befallen her. Gilda could imagine the confused, maybe even innocent, although clever birds distraught they didn’t know how to take care of their infant anymore. All their instincts turned to an alien evil that wasn’t their own.

She closed her eyes and let out a huff of steam from her nares before she allowed her newfound hatred for the Windigos to show.

“Anyway.” Gilda resumed and petted the roc on his head. “My point is that you’re alive and you have to let us take care of you… I mean… I think it’s what your parents would have wanted. They certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to stay in the cold and die. They’d wanted you to make the best you can with what you got. It’s kinda like what griffons do too.”

The roc inhaled deeply and let out a sad chirp to which she petted his head again. “We’ll all be alright… Just take care of yourself, okay?”

She hopped off the structure as the northerner huntress queen offered one of the meaty chunks to the infant again. This time he plucked it out of the tong and swallowed it whole. The huntress chirped happily and offered him more. That was what a happy griffon sounded like. Sometimes they just went full bird so happy they were.

Turning and sitting to watch, Gilda noticed Gia and Madam Gelinda standing next to her.

“Did I just witness you having a heart-to-heart with a wild animal?” Gia asked with sarcastic disbelief.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Gilda shrugged and Madam Gelinda chuckled while the younger loremaster dispassionately dropped a heavy sack on the snow. Stuff like a hose and a manual meat grinder spilled out.

“His chances of surviving improved significantly.” Gelinda smiled. “Good job Gilda.”

“How did the night go?” The tan griffoness asked the loremaster without turning, watching while the huntress happily fed the roc another chunk of meat.

“Gobby, the griffon you rescued from the rocs, had some fever because of the blood transfusion.” Gilda turned to her, expecting some terrible news, but fortunately it wasn’t so bad. “He will be alright. He’s medicated and just needs a long rest and someone to take care of him. I hope you understand he would be dead if not for you giving him the healing potion.”

“Yeah. No regrets there.” Gilda turned to her. “But I’m not looking for another thrall.”

Her words made Gelinda chuckle and shake her head. “Don’t worry. He’s already been ‘adopted’ by one of our volunteers. She said she’ll be taking care of him until he recovers. It should only take a few days.”

Gilda closed her eyes as though in physical pain and groaned. “I created a monster saying that queen could take a male into her tent, didn’t I?”

“Congratulations, Gilda.” Gelinda chuckled again with mocking enthusiasm. “You are now officially influential.”

In response, Gilda pressed her fingers on her forehead and groaned again. “What do northerners take for headaches?”

Gia grinned and raised a finger. “I’ll get you some herbal tea!”

Gilda doubted a simple tea would be enough, but she supposed the thought counted. She simply sat on the snow, still in the dim light, watching the two loremasters leaving her.

From there things happened without her intervention. The roc, who still needed a name, ate the whole portion of meat the hunters had prepared for him, and griffons woke out of their inertia. They left before the pony princesses decided to move the heavens around.

Some discussion arose among the hunters and the Sky Sentries about how best to move the cage with the infant roc. Despite being invited into the conversation, Gilda concluded they knew more than she did and kept her beak shut. The hunters decided he was not ready to be let loose and would try to escape. Someone suggested lifting the cage off the ground and carrying it around, but Gosalynn shot down the idea. It should be alright as they had planned to replace the rails eventually anyway.

Sooner, rather than later, griffons decided to depart when the conversation ended. Smoothly on schedule. For the day, at least. The huge oxen traversed the snow with awkward steps and progress happened slowly. In stretches where the snow had become too deep, without the same cloudwalking magic of griffons, they mostly powered through like the strong beasts they were. The handlers and volunteers helped with shovels and picks, cycling around the tired oxen for the fresh ones that came after. Intelligent creatures they were, the oxen understood and put all their strength on the task. Progress slowed but remained constant.

Some southerner tom suggested snowplows, but the ‘leadership’ decided the idea, although good, would be stashed for the next time they needed it.

The injured griffons surprised Gilda, mostly walking on their own. Some of them even returned to their duties on the caravan. The ones who couldn’t, earned themselves a spot on a couple of empty carts made more comfortable with some furs and leathers used for tent flooring. It dawned on Gilda the supplies started running thin and they ought to hurry to Frozenlake.

Gertha and Gil sat by Guille on one of the carts. Bored out of his mind, but unable to sleep because the two talked non-stop, he stared lifelessly into the sky. Gilda worried a little at not seeing Godwin, Giza or Georgia again, but convinced herself they were fine.

Once satisfied the caravan wouldn’t spontaneously combust, Gilda hurried after the first cart and hopped aboard, followed by Grunhilda. It got cramped, but cramped could also be cozy, and nobody complained. In the meantime, Gia joined them, bringing Gilda a tea smelling of mint, chamomile, and lavender.

The cart next to theirs had a couple of convalescing griffons, including Gobby, carefully put on a wool bed and covered with an animal skin. Next to him sat a young and kind of frail northerner queen. Maybe she was simply young, with her pristine aquamarine pelt and white plumage. She had a cute smile while she adjusted the fur blanket over Gobby and tucked it under his wool bed. Asleep, he didn’t see any of it, but surely would appreciate it.

All still under the light from the torches attached to the carts or carried by the sentries, but things seemed to be proceeding smoothly. Even the cubs had already started running around and playing. It seemed as though morning was a bit late, but nobody seemed to notice except for Gilda.

Not really caring, she took another sip of her tea. Surprisingly, the thing worked so well Gilda’s already improving mood soared when she noticed the headache disappeared by the time morning did arrive. “Hey! This actually worked!”

Gia giggled, sitting next to her. “What if I told you the pony healing potion is basically grape juice, sugar, and a lot of magic?”

Gilda looked at her tea. Well, magical armor was basically steel and magic anyway. “Yeah… Makes sense. We put magic into the stuff we do, don’t we?”

“Anyone can make a tea with water, ginger, lavender, and chamomile. With some honey and a pinch of griffon natural magic. Loremasters are just better at it.” Gia proudly put a paw on her chest and smiled. “Sure, the pony potion may be more potent, but our medicines are enough for us. Especially when we are on lands under The Harpy’s protection.”

“I thought you didn’t believe that.” Gilda blinked and almost laughed when Gia’s expression turned around to her usual ‘don’t care’ deadpan.

“It’s what Lady Gwendolen says, anyway.” She shut down the conversation with a noncommittal grumble.

Gilda finished the tea in a long sip before putting away the mug. Some moments of relative silence under the noise of the caravan passed until Gilda spoke again. “Do you think there is a Loremaster that could make a healing tea so powerful?”

“Probably. Her name is Gehenna.” Gia made herself comfortable against the back of the cart and a leather sheet hanging from it. “She’s Lady Gwendolen’s sort of second in command. I hear she’s got the creepier and scarier Loremaster powers… Like… She can make you do things without even realizing she’s telling you to.”

Sounded useful. Morally reprehensible, but useful.

Since Gia seemed to have tired of talking, Gilda turned her attention to Grunhilda and her book. Big Girl just lost herself on it and Gilda decided to sit there and chill, watching the hills scroll by.

Next Chapter: The Harpy Made Me Do It, pt II Estimated time remaining: 10 Hours, 59 Minutes