Gilda woke in a strange crystal room. A soft light radiated from the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor. The wall to the right had a door, but it was closed. She blinked a few times, not because of the light, but because of a weird feeling something was dead wrong.
Still, she simply sat with her haunches on a comfortable sitting pillow, in the middle of the room. Any memory of anything after going to sleep completely eluded her.

Outside the rain castigated the walls and its incessant noise muffled through the thick crystal walls. Somehow. Thunder often punctuated the repetitive noise. The crystal would flash every time and return to normal. She could hear a distant cry in the thunder. Not as a baby, but as a large bird, ‘howling’ furiously. Talons scratched under the racket of the rain and a distant door banged against its hinges.

Inside of the room was only Gilda though. Had she heard anything? She wasn’t so sure anymore. Then she noticed she had company. Princess Luna sat in front of her. The big, blue, and blueberry smelling alicorn princess responsible for the night.

What the hell? Was she there before?

“Princess? Princess Luna? That you?” Just… What the hell?

“Greetings! You are Gilda, correct?” The big pony smiled at her and looked at a weird blue crystal slab held in her magical grasp. Like she read something from it. “Pleased to meet you! I mean, not really ‘meet’ you… We have met many times in the past, in your childhood, but you get my meaning.”

“What the heck is going on?” Did she stutter? Was something wrong? The whole thing struck Gilda with a bizarre sensation of something out of place. As though time had stopped, somehow, and she was plucked from her life and put in that room to talk with the big blue weirdo. Something hid right before her grasp, like a memory, staring her in the face from just beyond a fog she couldn’t pierce.

“I’m sorry, Gilda.” Luna’s ears hung from her head and her brow knitted softly. “I pulled you out of a particularly nasty nightmare.”

Oh! That’s what happened… Gilda had stopped with the nightmares after grew up and convinced herself only ponies feared nightmares was a pony thing. Weirdly, it was not how she remembered it. Luna would enter her dream and talk to her about whatever had scared her. Not meet her in a strange room. What even was that place?

As though she read her thoughts, Luna spoke once more. “Again, I’m sorry. This isn’t normal… It got so out of hoof I had to get rid of the whole thing and erase the whole state your mind found itself in. Then I needed a place to situate your mind for it to form a consciousness so we could talk. This place, this moment.”

The door Gilda didn’t know where banged again, and a shrill cry echoed through Gilda’s head, above the storm outside. Did the princess not hear? She never reacted to it. She simply stared at the crystal thing she held and frowned.

Luna’s reaction notwithstanding, old Gabriel’s words came back to Gilda’s thoughts.

“Your problem, Gilda, is your race has been living under subjugation from an old enemy for so long you don’t even remember you are a prisoner anymore or even what it feels like to be free.”

As though a siren had gone off deep inside. A red, flashy, and noisy alarm she should not trust the blue pony.

Luna, meanwhile, frowned at her slab of crystal and Gilda could swear she heard laughter. A haunting female voice echoed inside her head. She felt cold, like the wind from a winter night descended on her, but it brought more comfort than chill.

A ghostly voice, female and haunting crept into her ears. She chanted words Gilda didn’t know, but sounded as beautiful as mesmerizing. Somehow, she understood the meaning, even if she didn’t recognize the words from another language.

A mighty beast in My likeness;

A caged, proud, and hurt lioness.

Throwing herself at the silver bars;

Held by the magic that moves the stars.

A toast to you, My Child, reborn afresh;

What did you dream of?

What reveries escape the grasp of the Night Made Flesh?

What was she dreaming of? Luna did say she plucked her out of a nightmare. Just a bad dream, right?

“What was I dreaming of, Princess Luna?” Gilda asked, innocently enough.

The princess stared up from her crystal slab but kept looking back at it. It distracted her. “Nothing important. It seems you have been under a lot of stress lately. It got to you, and it affected your dreams. There is also this storm. The thunder and lightning do weird things to some griffon minds. Nothing you need to worry yourself about, though. You seem to have a few subconscious strings floating up, but I got this under control.”

“Do you hear the storm?” Gabriel’s voice echoed inside her again, with the shrill scream of an eagle in counterpoint to a loud rumbling thunder. She could swear she heard laughter.

Luna's horn shone in blue after, and Gilda didn’t know what she did, but the storm, Gabriel's voice and the haunting female all vanished. Along with the cold and the weird subjective feeling something was wrong.

The confused pony princess blinked and hummed at Gilda. “Do you… This may sound weird, but do you hear something? Do you feel cold?”

Gilda smiled friendly. “Nothing at all, princess.”

“Huzzah!” The Princess cheered. “Success! Do you need any assistance? You were quite distressed a while ago. It seems some life event got into your dreams, and it wasn’t pretty. It roused some weird fantasies, you know?”

She had no money, and her house burned down. Some powerful politicians might be targeting her and she could actually be in danger… Yet, all that paled in comparison to the magical mind-bending eldritch horror in front of her.

“I’m sure it was just the rough day at work, Princess.” Gilda spoke all friendly.

“Well, then…” Luna’s horn shone again, and she gave Gilda a cute plush doll in her likeness. “This charm will tell Tantabus to call me if there is something wrong. Okay? You should wake now. See you later, and good luck with your job.”

The Princess vanished with a teleporting flourish, but Gilda didn’t wake. The Crystal grew dark, and a strange foreboding sensation took hold of her. Something wasn’t right. She looked at the cute doll in her paw. A cute representation of the helpful Princess of the Night. A charm to keep her safe from the bad dreams, complete with shinny mane, fluffy wings and a cute smile.

It was a piece of eldritch magic the alicorn abomination left ingrained in between the processes of Gilda's mind to warn her if it did anything it wasn’t supposed to.

Time had no meaning, and she might as well have spent an eternity looking down at the cute doll. Her entire existence came down to the simple choice. Holding on to the endearing symbol that the Princess of the Night watched over her dreams or getting rid of the horrifying magical device which communicated the workings of her mind to Luna’s minion.

She sat on the razor edge of one simple and binary choice: keep the enchanting sign of Luna's dutiful dedication to protecting her dreams, or relinquish the alien alicorn magic made to spy the innards of her self.

The Princess could easily solve Gilda's problems.

The Mare With The Mane Made Of The Night would smother away whatever Her Sister decided made Gilda too dangerous for her little ponies.

It came down to one simple choice, and she slowly opened her paw. It balanced on the palm for a second, but the doll tumbled over towards the crystal floor.

“Do you hear the storm?” Thunder rumbled again.

“I can hear Her cry.” Gilda muttered to herself.

The thunderous storm stirred louder, and she surrendered to slumber to the creaking of a heavy door opening.

Morning came fast. Gilda must’ve been so tired she was out as soon as she dropped on the bed. The tasty dinner, nice bath and sturdy roof certainly helped. She hurried to wash the sleep off her face and then to the breakfast table with her friends. Greta served some tasty prench toasts and Gary did the coffee.

She wanted to help, but… ‘Guest’.

“Did you sleep well, Gilda?” Greta asked all worry while Gary buttered one of his toasts and Gilda tasted the coffee. “I swear I heard you thrashing in the night. Maybe crying.”

“Come now, Greta.” Her husband stared at her. “Gilda is not a child.”

She stared at Greta too, pecking at her toast, but shook her head with no recollection of even a dream. “Nah. Slept like a baby! Damn comfy bed you have on your guest room.”

“Oh, well. That is better, I suppose.” Greta beamed. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Not much I can do… Gotta go see to this mess.” Gilda shrugged. Seeing a solution to her problem and with the support of her friends, everything seemed so much simpler.

The politicians targeting her… Well, surely paranoia wouldn’t help. The militiagriffon the other day had problems of his own. Judge Gracey scared her, but it didn’t mean she was corrupt or anything. Come on… He was her kid. Probably some dweeb with mommy issues.

“It's not that bad.” Gary smiled. “The department of insurances is in the Mayor’s Office. The City Hall, right next to the Chancellor's palace in the main plaza. I’ll walk you there. I just can’t hold your paw, but you should get through the system no problem. If something crops up, we’ll work it out with my help. Most importantly, you got a safe place to stay until this whole mess blows over.”

“Your mood certainly seems to have improved too!” Greta giggled.

Suddenly, Gilda became all too conscious of her situation. Again. Just how screwed would she be without them? She hated the sensation of burning cheeks and general uneasiness. “I just don’t know what to say, guys. I hate to be a burden, but…”

Damn stinging eyes…

“It’s alright, Gilda.” Greta put a paw on her shoulder and her touch just made everything better. “We’re friends.”

Her husband just nodded while he munched on his toast. It was so weird seeing griffons chew.

They left the house together and in a great mood. The hot and damp air made breathing more laborious than it had any right to be, and the clouds kept the sun away. It appeared that storm decided to stay. But the guys in the weather department certainly knew what they were doing. Despite the annoyance and water puddles everywhere, Gilda, Greta, and Gary walked together, chatting and laughing until Greta’s job took her on another path.

Gilda didn’t mind being alone with Gary as his had a charm of his own. He kept talking about how great he thought Greta was. Gilda had to agree. She only wondered if someone, someday, would talk about her like that.

The realization she wasn’t the badass independent tough girl she thought of herself still stung though. Her life needed some adjustments. All in all, maybe the whole problem with the mayor’s kid had a silver lining. Maybe she could even actually go to nursing school. Who knew?

They arrived at the central plaza where Gilda’s life seemed to gravitate towards lately. Grover’s statue drew attention as soon as one arrived and behind it hid the Chancellor’s Palace. Many militiagriffons standing guard in the area with all the mess of angry griffons that took the place last day. She doubted the issues had been resolved, though. The strong arm of the state kept the plaza clear.

Not very endearing a thought, but at least she had a clear path to her destination, the City Hall right next to the Chancellor’s Palace. Next to it a giant mural commemorated Griffonia’s adhesion to the Equestrian Confederation. She had never paid too much attention to it. Just another piece of ‘history’ which had no real impact on her life. I just sat there to celebrate some event which benefited the rich jerks and screwed the masses, in which she found herself included.

That day she stopped and stared at it.

King Grover, all high and mighty with reds, purples, and gold, not to mention holding a chalice which was the Idol of Boreas and a crown, along with a sword strapped to his side. He bumped his closed fist with Celestia’s hoof, and her sister stood next to her. In the background a large city represented Griffonstone and in foreground a crowd of ponies and griffons cheered. A beautiful blue sky crowned the painting, with the sun and the moon shining golden and silver rays down on them.

Not a bird. Not a cloud. Not a mountain. Not an animal. Nothing but the city, the rulers, and the people.

And the symbol of The Sisters’ power.

Something about the mural deeply disgusted Gilda, but she couldn’t put her talon on it. She frowned and pierced the details. Celestia’s golden adornments, Luna’s black ones. Grover’s crown. The… Wait… Why did they paint the Idol of Boreas as a chalice?

She looked closely, and grover held it. The idol. Not a chalice. Why did she think it was a chalice? It kinda looked like a chalice, but she saw the actual thing once and even in the mural it wasn’t a chalice. Why did she think of a chalice? For some reason, it freake her out.

Wake up, My Child. They lied to you!

It occurred to her the thing had nothing to do with the Kingdom of Griffonia joining the ponies and their confederation. Why did they even show the Idol in the mural? It helped Grover unite the griffons, much earlier than they joined the Confederation.

“Gilda?” She heard his voice, but it sounded distant and unimportant.

Remember! Memories so powerful etched into your soul. Nor death or the Mistress of the Mind could steal them away.

She couldn’t remember when, or where precisely, but a tent stood in the middle of a dry and hot desert, burning under the sun. A pavilion with silks and satin above a saddle arabian green and golden rug. A small censer stood next to her emitting the aroma of sandalwood as she lounged comfortably on the rug next to many other beautiful and strong griffonnesses of varying ages.

She, and the others stared at a large and powerful griffon, all brown and tan with serious orange eyes walking on the rug, wearing a bronze armor, and a golden crown above his head.

The desert air remained still but a change grew steadly. A large crowd banged something and chanted. Or was it an army? She didn’t look, she remembered. Two armies met there. One puny and pathetic, the other mighty and invincible.

“Traitor King! Traitor King! Doing the Dawnbringer’s bidding, hiding under her wing.” They chanted on and on, mocking and laughing in coarse voices above the banging of shields.

As childish as it carried the energy of antsy soldiers. It drew Gilda into joining in a low, giggly, and mocking tone with a seductive voice she used to mock the weakling males. The others around her giggled and joined. Her opinion was important, for some reason, and she knew her mocking leering pierced his stone exterior and hurt him inside. Did she know him? She couldn’t remember

Ignoring her and the others, the mighty griffon stopped in front of a tall throne set on the rug, under the shade. Black iron, gold, and steel, supported a massive, mostly unremarkable, griffon of brown colors and a white head. His head carried a crown made of sky-bound spike-shaped iron. Cruel, brown eyes locked on the armored griffon as bronze-like talons clicked at the armrest, next to a chalice made of bone, gold and silver.

A host of griffons sat around the throne, silently judging the armored griffon. Worst of all, a tall and fit griffonness with metallic pink colors who wore a multicolored cape with her white longsword on her back and a white gold diadem on her head. Her disapproving stare would’ve melted a steel ingot. Behind the throne two diamond dogs, bound in chains, fanned the area with large leaves. A saddle arabian pony, yellow and orange, wore an iron collar and stood nearby, next to a table with food and drinks, trying to look invisible. Next to him a pair of beautiful, pearlescent-white hippogriffs seemed lost between despair and hopelessness.

The griffon on the throne rose his paw in a relaxed gesture for silence and all the chanting stopped.

“Kinda cool, isn’t it?” Gary’s voice pierced through, and Gilda was back staring the mural. “Can you imagine how different things would be if we hadn’t joined the ponies? I mean, an independent Griffonia without the help from the rest of the world… I suppose the other nations could trade with us and all that, but I doubt that they’d care about us the same way the pony princesses do.”

“Yeah…” Gilda agreed in a low voice. The dry, hot wind still washed over her. “It’s pretty cool.”

What the hell was that? She was going crazy, was what! All she needed after the mess she had gotten herself into. She was so screwed she didn’t have the time to worry about her mental health anymore.

“So, where am I supposed to go?” She turned to Gary and he grinned, happy he got to help. Such a nice guy. No wonder Greta had married him.

He pointed one of the buildings. “The insurances office, in the city hall. It is on the ground floor, the east wing. Can’t miss it. I’ll be working there, so I can take you all the way. I just can't… You know… Work with you. Boss wouldn’t like it, but nothing is keeping me from giving your paperwork the fast lane.”

He winked at her, and she chuckled. “Alright! Thanks a lot dude. I’d be lost without you guys.”

“That’s what friends are for Gilda! Come on!”

The griffon reading newspapers still sat behind it at the information table. Gary gestured for her to follow and pointed the right queue to a clerk window in the corridor while he went into the offices.

Gilda sat on the floor and waited along with the other griffons in the queue. Their vexed expressions and lack of friendly banter matched a queue for insurance business. The storm caused a lot of damage, it seemed. Of course, few houses must’ve burned in the middle of a freaking storm…

The time passed, and the minutes turned into a whole hour. A clock hung from the ceiling to remind them of how much time of their life they had wasted. Then a commotion drew attention from the queue and griffons, Gilda included, bent to the side to see.

A big griffon girl scratched the floor while four big militiagriffons struggled to drag her out. Almost an adult, but huge and screeching like they meant to kill her.

“The day of reckoning comes!” She cried in a panicked frenzy. “The Wheel of Time spins unstopping, and he who finds himself in power will find that he is thus powerless! Under the Sun and Moon you have forgotten the harsh mountain where She has birthed your ancestors and hoofed blood runs in your veins!”

The heck? What even was hoofed blood?

“Oh, for crying out loud! Get her under control!” One of the griffons in the local militia grunted and cried when she kicked him away at the nearest wall. That guy wouldn’t be getting up and would be spending the next year learning how to walk again if not for the protective spells in his barding.

Gilda grimaced and the others around her gasped and recoiled at the spectacle. Two of the griffons trying to hold the big female poked her on the back and behind the head with the pink-tipped magical stun batons. She barely felt it, even when the pink sparks flew.

The big griffoness reached for the ones in the queue, in Gilda’s general direction and caused griffons to recoil and gasp again. “Open your eyes! Wake up! There is still time! Repent and cover yourselves in ashes of birch trees that the Allmother will forgive you!”

“Settle down, will you?!” One of the militiagriffons roared and jumped on top of her, hitting he back of her head with the baton twice.

The big hen cried. Not like crying in pain, but she cried like a furious eagle and stood on her hindlegs. Her powerful and elegant body, moved like lightning and she grabbed the militia officer with her forepaw. She threw her to the floor with the left and the right slashed straight through the magically enchanted leather armor. Blood flew everywhere.

Griffons standing in line started panicking and it only got worse as the stun batons didn’t seem to work until one of the griffons in the militia drew his wheellock pistol and shot at her. All three of them shot her. She finally collapsed and turned on her back, still mumbling and trying to move until they jabbed her with the batons a few more times. She didn’t seem injured, other than small burn marks on her fur. They certainly shot her with enchanted crystal balls. If Gilda remembered correctly, legislation forbid local militias loading their guns with real ammunition, only crystal balls with stun spells.

Maybe the stress of the situation got to her, but Gilda felt bad for the white hen and hoped she lost consciousness already. Empathy? Griffon ladies had tender and sensitives parts in their belies that they didn’t usually like exposed, without even mentioning her other lady bits. In her place Gilda would’ve felt so exposed and vulnerable. Or maybe Gilda sympathized because she might be going crazy too.

“Right. Show’s over! Quit staring you creeps!” One of the griffons with the militia, the one who got kicked into a wall, barked at the present griffons while the others recovered. Older than the others, all tan and yellow. “Get her outside. They’re waiting to take her to the hospital.”

He kept talking while he helped the one who got slashed to her feet. “You okay Gris?”

“Fuck!” She grunted and staggered, holding a bloody paw to the cut in her armor. To be honest, the girl seemed even more scared than the onlookers. “The freaking crazy clawed me through the armor. What the fuck!”

“That’s drugs for you.” He helped her walk with what must have been a nasty gash on her chest. “We’re getting you to the hospital. Come on.”

Gilda simply stood with the others, too stunned to do anything while they hurriedly carried the big griffonness outside. Finally, a gray and white griffon male, wearing reading glasses, came out of the office and apologized. “Everyone, please remain calm. We’re resuming work so nobody’s process gets hindered. Everyone will be served. Just remain calm. It was just some poor girl with issues.”

‘Issues’? She almost killed a griffon from the local militia with her bare talons, took a beating and got shot multiple times before she stopped!

“Psh…” An small and old griffon lady next to her harumphed. Covered in gray and blueish, wearing a little hat with an orchid on it. She glared at the militiagriffons dragging the big hen out. “Drugs. They say that about anyone who gives them a little trouble. Some griffons go kind of crazy because of these storms. It’s been getting worse over the years, I tell you.”

“But nobody cares. Even went to Canterlot with my case study and Princess Celestia couldn’t get her head out of her ass.” She mumbled something. “Some griffons are just dangerous, indeed. Feathering dumbass.”

“Excuse me?”

The older griffon sighed. “Sorry sweetie. I get a bit moody in the morning.”

“No. You know something?” Gilda insisted. Might be that she would be next…

“I worked as psychiatrist in the Griffonstone Hospital for the most of my life. I kept seeing this. Some griffons just got angrier and meaner when the ponies pulled these thunderstorms. Actually, my research convinced the weather department to tone them down.”

First Gilda ever heard of it. “What happens to them?”

“Well, they just can’t handle it. It’s like they get some weird thing in their heads and it acts out when these storms happen. They snap. I once saw a guy trashing his room because he kept hearing the thunder way after the storm ended. He kept saying ‘she’ was calling to him and that he had to go.”

“Who was calling?” Creepy stuff. “Go where?”

The old griffon shook her head with a defeated sigh. “Never managed to figure it out. He committed suicide less than a week later. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be filling your head with this. I just get frustrated nobody listened to me when I could do something about it. If the militia understood this stuff, they might be able to deal with it a lot better. Poor girl is probably gonna get sent to the psych ward in Shatteredrock.”

“No. I wanna know.” Not like the queue would be any faster if she didn’t… And it made her think of the things the old museum curator told her.

“It is usually associated with the storms and some sort of traumatic event. Well, I suppose some drugs can trigger this, but they use the excuse because it exonerates them of the need for a proper investigation. The unicorns up top are fine because ‘some griffons are just dangerous’. Some deal better with the psychosis. Others… Well, they snap, and the militia has to contain them.”

“How the hell did she cut through militia armor with her bare talons because one of her screws got loose?” Gilda gestured with her own talons.

The old griffon lady chuckled. “We don’t know the strength we have, girlie. Until we lose control, and our inhibitions are gone. The public loves to forget, particularly ponies, but there is a lot of magic involved with griffon paws and wings. We do walk on the clouds, after all.”

Gilda frowned. There was also some obscure law about sharp talons and claws. Like, griffons carried freaking cutting weapons with them all the time. Ponies freaked a little and the griffon government decided sharp talons were to be classified as melee weapons for the purpose of law enforcement if they were kept sharp. Crazy girl could’ve killed the militia right there.

Maybe the ‘vision’ Gilda had with the desert had no more meaning than just her head doing weird things because of the storm. Come to think of it, maybe the whole ‘they’re out to get me’ thing and that old guy, Gabriel’s talk about going north related. Just crazy griffons being crazy.

Anyways, the line moved. She only had to wait.

It took her three whole hours of perseverant dedication and patience, but she finally made it to the clerk. A glass window with a space for her to talk and slip documents separated her from the griffon on the other side. The white griffon with glasses from before stood there, smiling. Next to him, sat a cute looking rose and yellow unicorn with a small bowtie for assistant. She sat behind the counter, so Gilda didn’t see her cutie mark.

“Greetings, ma’am. Thank you for your patience. Things are moving a bit slow today. You know… Even without the crazy… We apologize. She worked in cleaning for a few months, and it seems to be some kid with issues. Anyways, how can I help you?”

“My house caught on fire this night. I need my insurance money to buy another.” She plainly stared at the pair.

“I see. I’m sorry. Name?”

“Gilda of Griffonstone.”

“Do you have your ID, Gilda?” He Asked again. “Insurance papers, house scriptures…”

“Uh… I guess it got burned in the fire. But I know my ID number, if it helps.”

“It certainly does.” The unicorn piped, picking up a pencil and paper. “We’ll have to procure the rest with the city’s archives, and it should cost you a couple of days, but it shouldn’t stop the process.”

“It’s two-four-five, five-nine-five, thirty-nine dash four. Griffonstone.” Gilda recited the numbers slowly.

“Thank you.” She wrote it all down and started looking through the papers on a box while the griffon kept talking to her.

“Was there any passing away involved? Bodily injure? Pets? Money?” He asked with a monotonous voice of asking the same questions hundreds of times a day. “Do you wish to declare you caused the accident? Is there a related occurrence report with the Local Militia? Did you own the property? Was there any particular insured property within the property, such as family heirlooms, historical artifacts…

“Uh… No… No one died. I wasn’t home, I have no pets and no money.” She chuckled, trying to sound friendly, but it came out rattling. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t cause the accident and there shouldn’t be a report. But, yes, I owned the house, and I didn’t have anything else insured.”

“Well, then.” The griffon sounded pleased. “Standard procedures then.”

“I have the report, Gile. Arrived soon after the shift started.” The unicorn magicked it to the griffon. “She’s on probation and doing community service.”

Gilda blinked twice. “Is that a problem?”

Though she supposed she ought to be grateful to the firefighter who filed the report before going to sleep or something.

The griffon on the other side of the window adjusted his glasses and took a better look at the paper. “Not really. Bad stuff happens to griffons trying to do right too. All it means is your process will be under closer scrutiny than usual. In practical terms, it’s going to spend a few hours in a couple of extra desks. Let’s see… It seems you will be granted a pay of…”

He stared at the ceiling, certainly doing some quick mathematics. “Two-hundred thousand, three hundred something, something Bits. After taxes.”

Taxes… Of course. Regardless, Gilda tried not to show it, but she expected less for her crappy house. Her mom really got it right. She ought to remember she also had the terrain; she could sell it and buy something better elsewhere. Maybe in the same neighborhood as Greta and Gary? That little dream was within grasp!

“Well…” The griffon started writing on the form. “Since it was an accident, likely outside of your capacity to avoid, and you were working on community service, I think we can make it seem like you’re really trying hard and got some bad luck.”

“Yeah!” The unicorn cheered. “You should be getting the check in some two weeks. Tops. You just gotta come here in fourteen days and you’ll leave with it. Easy-peasy.”

“Will there be anything else, Miss Gilda?” Gile asked with a smile, looking up from the paper.

“Not at all! Thanks a lot, guys!” She smiled back and then left the window.

The old lady followed next, and Gilda simply greeted her with a nod before heading out. She walked the corridor on her way out a heck of a lot lighter than she felt before.

Walking out, even the sun seemed brighter, even if through the damn dark clouds. Then she saw the entrance to the hospital. The big griffon girl laid on a wheeled stretcher, on her side and tied to it, still unconscious. The militiagriffons were there. Two of them stood watch, their boss talked to a griffon doctor. The one who got injured probably headed inside already.

Part of her wanted to get close and try to help. Maybe use the stand she stashed in the hospital as an excuse. But a more rational part convinced her that she had enough troubles. She ought to avoid exposing herself too much. She should go back to Greta and Gary’s house. Stay put, out of trouble, before leaving for her job tomorrow. Who knew? Perhaps the big griffon lady would still be there, and she could get herself involved in helping, or at the least getting informed with Miss Goldina.

However, on her way, her thoughts lingered on the ‘psych ward in Shatteredrock’. She had only heard of the place and that it sat smack on an island off the coast of Baltimare. Her imagination pictured a big rocky tower carved into a maximum-security prison where Celestia stashed all the ‘evil griffons’. She had never even seen a prison, but she never heard anyone speaking of Shatteredrock on good terms.

She couldn’t imagine anyone having a good time there and the psychiatric ward on Shatteredrock ought to be the closest a living being would ever come to Tartarus.

Every single hair on her back and her feathers stood and she shivered a whispered moan out.

Well, Gild had her paws tied. Even if had work as an excuse, she couldn’t actually do much to help. Remembering the girl would be on Goldina’s paws would have to suffice. She had a knack for helping problematic griffons.

In the end Gilda should be happy she didn’t have to skip a day in the job because she had to go see to her house’s insurance.

Next Chapter: Burning Cold Estimated time remaining: 31 Hours, 38 Minutes