There was a long pause. “Who are you?” There was a large dose of confusion tapped in with the tiniest trace of fear.

We had had talk about the world, about how people were changing. We didn’t approve of it at all. To be honest, I was trying to get a hold of my father, who would more than likely be agreeable.

He wasn’t as xenophobic as we were. Or rather, as she was, and I wasn’t now. Kinda hard to be terrified of yourself for long periods of time.

Actually, having an angry griffon in your head that could take over whenever she wanted and also had a stated ignorance of the dangers around you was terrifying.

Not ignorant, I just don’t care. Now talk. Your mom probably thinks you are a stalker or something.

“Cale.” There was a sound that resembled something deflating from the other end of the phone. I felt guilty already and we hadn’t even gotten to the specifics.

“Cale? Cale is a-” I cut her off, I’d already gone over this with the drunk.

“Yeah, not anymore. I’ve tran-” My turn to get cut off.

“You’re a pony now?” There was a deep vein of disgust to her voice, that which wasn’t probably on the verge of tears.

Way to make me feel good about myself, mom.

“I’m a lion thingy GRIFFON.” Gilda forced the words out of my beak into the phone with such force that I probably almost made her deaf.

I could imagine my mother recoiling from the phone in half pain and more than half pity. “So.”

There was more of an awkward silence as both sides of the conversation tried to figure out what to say.

Wimp. Just tell her that you’ll miss her or whatever sappy thing you had planned. Just sitting here isn’t going to help you any.

Sound advice for the one who almost got us shot.

Shut up. I regret not dying since it means I have to deal with you.

Ouch. That would’ve hurt if I knew you didn’t almost wet yourself when you figured out what that gun would’ve done.

“I’ll miss you mom. I’m staying in New York with a few friends for the time being.” I acted like I wasn’t going to start crying after this.

“I thought I raised you better than this.” There was venom in her words.

“It’s not like I asked to be turned into a griffon.” The words were flat. There was no real return to venom, like I had lost the will to converse.

“I want my son.” Like a fist smashing into my face with the force of a hay maker, I lost more and more of my confidence.

“I am your son. I am CALE.” I shouted the last part, my voice breaking. I was losing everything that I cared about in mere hours. Next thing I knew I was probably going to die without a soul who would care and no-

SHUT THE HELL UP. LEAVE YOUR WHINY LITTLE HISSY FIT FOR ANOTHER TIME

The griffon in my head was angry, genuinely.

I stared at the phone in my talons blankly.

“You aren’t my son.” I would look back on this day with sheer horror.

“You aren’t my son.”

“You aren’t my son.”

I was so focused on the phone that I hardly noticed the gun shot going off beside me before the bullet ripped through one of my legs.

The phone tumbled numbly down like a falling leaf. It hit the ground in the same instant that I jumped up, anger and rage clouding my vision and numbing the soon to be overwhelming pain.

Gilda and I roared as one, surging past just being on our feet and rushing more towards the shooter in a couple hundred pounds of ticked off lion bird griffon.

It was the friend from before, the one I had said went far too easy? Yeah, he was back, and nursing a nasty hangover. The gun was still recoiling in his hands; The world had slowed down while my leg was injured. Adrenaline pumped through my body.

END HIM! The rage inside of me hollered.

The gun flew to the side as we collided, the close range making such a weapon all but useless anyways. Claws reigned supreme at close quarters.

I was moments from ending his life, but I managed to hold my razor talons before they went that far. He was bloody, knocked unconscious and in need of medical attention as much as I was with the hole in my leg, but I had not killed him.

Finish him. Make him die. Consume him. He is prey, you are predator.

I had to physically restrain myself from doing just that.

There was a voice still coming through the phone. Someone was screaming.

“C-cale?” I looked down at the hole in my leg without much comprehension.

“CALE?” Of course, NOW she cares.

I looked away from the quickly bleeding wound and towards the gun. Small caliber. Pistol. Most likely a through and through shot, no need to pull a bullet from my leg.

Not that it mattered.

Gilda was silent. Distantly, I could imagine her thrashing about in agony and rage, livid with anger.

The phone was still shouting my name.

I stared at it blankly. It still didn’t make much sense. Things were happening for too quickly.

I had to get help or something. Odds were there were still a few ex friends wandering the forest wondering where I was and or planning to kill me.

I was shunted to the side as Gilda took over, easing passed the waves of panic that I was giving out.

I grinned widely through the pain as Cale, annoying as always, finally released his grip on my body. I kicked the human in the side hard enough to draw more blood, flipping him on his back. I wanted him to drown in his own blood for daring to hurt me. With as much grace as I could muster, I grabbed the still screaming phone device and put it in the bag with the jerky.

I limped off to go somewhere to lick my wounds. Simple as that.

I’d survive. It takes more than just a bad leg to down a griffon.

Let me in control let me in control let me in control it is so dark in here please let me back in the light the pain it hurts can’t move

SHUT UP.

I let him take control again, growling at the masculine presence once more in control.

I felt in control again, the pain fresh and agonizing.

Phone. I grabbed my phone. I remembered a few things. Facebook page. I looked at the forest, trying to remember the name.

Couldn’t call police. They might not want to deal with a griffon.

Paranoia ate at me and I scrambled to try and figure out the way to the place I was looking for. Where was I? New york state forest.

Which one?

...The name was escaping me and there was so much pain. The blood was in the smell in the air full of copper and pain.

Needed relief. Help. Needed help.

Before I knew it, I was on my back again, trying to use my other back leg to type out the right place on my phone.

“Erica Fluttershy” the image is of a yellow and pink pony wearing a blue baseball cap and a smile, and the profile has a series of markers tracking a trip east from Nevada.

Too far from where I was. Needed to let people know that I was hurt. Still. Odds were she had access to others.

Today was Thorsday.

Username: Cale

Friend request sent.

Amazingly enough, she accepted immediately.

I managed to mess with the messaging system.

“Downed in New York forest. Shot. Gilda.”

Message sent.

So much pain.

Minutes later, a message came back, from Ericashy.

“If you can make it to the factory outside of New York City, Rainbow and Twilight should be there. If you cannot make it there then message me back with your location as best as you can and I will try to send help. I am so sorry.”

“Hurt. Blood everywhere. I.don’t know where I am that well. Forest.” There was someone out there who cared. Pain.

“You need to get to a road or something, your best bet may be calling the police for help, I have a lawyer here who would help you out if you need legal defense.”

“Tell my parents I’m sorry.” I sent it before I understood what I typed. How would she find them? I was a stranger talking to some person who might not even exist. I was bleeding out in the middle of a forest while an unforgiving griffon decided to take pot shots at me and here I was worrying about my family.

You really don’t value your life that much, do you?

I had to agree with her.

Even sought help from the Flutterfail. Pathetic. I’ll take care of this.

Wearily, I was shoved to the side. I slept.

I was in control. I shook off the pain and started walking, the bag of supplies looped around a wing, the phone slipped inside securely.

Cale slept peacefully.