Chapter Sixty One

Once More, a Peaceful Departure

The days that followed Spike’s introduction to the Tsar were ones of little worry and peaceful relaxation, much to the delight of his wives. For the first time in a long while, Spike was able to enjoy being with his family and not have to worry about them moving all the time. There were no worries about where he’d be able to find food for his family, no need to watch their backs for suspicious characters, and the unpleasant travels behind them seemed like a collection of bad dreams. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served promptly, but spread out to make room to talk, and for those with differing schedules. He often talked with the Tsarina and her foals about Equestria and being a dragon, and, often, he would just sit and read letters from Equestria, or send out a few of his own.

Sadly, it was not to last; all good things eventually come to an end, and this was no different. However, Spike didn't want to think about that, so the day before he was set to leave, he once again began to think of the future, and what it could bring once he returned home. Rooms for foals, where he’d sleep, which wife he’d sleep with, depending on the pregnancy or age of their foal...

“I still can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he muttered, glancing over at the roaring fireplace from his comfortable chair. His family was once again meeting with the Tsarina, though this time for possible trade rights between Russia and his family’s holdings, whoever had them, so, right now he was all alone, and he was okay with that.

Asalah’s time with him in the shower hadn’t been the the only time they had any action while they were there, either; they’d been going at it at one point or another for several days, including the night before, when she insisted on having some “fun” right as everyone else was sleeping. The pair did their best to be quiet, even Spike gone so far as to clamp her mouth shut during the act. The others hadn’t stirred, for which he was thankful, but it did serve to make him wonder why Asalah was acting like this, because, as far as he knew, it wasn’t like her, and after some thought, he believed she was entering heat very soon.

Whether or not she would become pregnant when they mated again, when her heat was in full force, was not a worry to him. He could only hope that any foal they conceive would be safe and healthy. He had been extremely lucky so far, with his family suffering none of the potential problems concerning their pregnancies. Spike once read, somewhere, that many first time pregnancies ended in a natural abortion, and while it would greatly sadden him, the loss wouldn't be a big surprise.

Still, he hoped against hope they'd remain safe, as would the foals.

“Spike?”

The dragon looked up from the letter he was reading. Turns out that Twilight and the others were set to go somewhere soon, at the bequest of Princess Celestia, but where and when, the parchment didn't say. “Yes?”

Trixie walked forward, her dress shimmering slightly over the bump on her stomach in the light of the fireplace. “When do you think we should leave, tomorrow?” She asked, standing between him and several large, open bags, with clothes strewn about haphazardly. None of them felt like packing, mostly because setting out again wasn’t going to be easy, but the Tsar told them not to worry, for the servants would take care of everything, and he already called for a known guide to bring them safely to their next destination.

“I think we should take the advice of our guide, whenever they get here,” Spike said with a shrug. “They’ll know when and where to travel at this time of year. The biggest worry I have is keeping all four of you warm when we have to go up from Persia, into the realm of the Marengols.”

“Not the Marengols, themselves?”

“I can defend you from others,” Spike said with a nod. “However, I can’t be there every waking moment to protect you from the winter’s bite. Besides, we can’t share one bed for too much longer, it’s going to be getting cramped for everypony.”

“I know, I’m surprised I’m not much bigger,” she replied, one hand gently rubbing her stomach. “Mom once said that she swore she was carrying twins when she was carrying me. I guess I was just a big foal, and ours will be, too.”

“Then I guess we’ll count ourselves lucky, I’m not sure how I’d handle twins on the first try,” Spike said with a laugh. The thought of having more than one foal born in a day was a bit scary to him. He’d go from expectant father to already having a couple, and soon enough, he’d have a veritable litter of them. Who was to say how many foals he'd have with his wives? Who was to say how many they'd want?

“I think we’ll have to use protection in the future,” Trixie said, easily reading his mood. “I don’t want to pump out babies every nine months, I need a breather from it all to get back into shape or help care for the ones we already have.”

“Isn’t that what wet nurses are for? Helping to take care of the babies?”

“Well, yes, but I want that mother-child bond, like what I had with my parents,” the unicorn said. “It’s not like I have to do everything for them, but some help would be nice.”

“Well, depending on what the others say, we’ll probably have to hire a lot of wet nurses, and then later, governesses or something,” he replied. “Say, do you think it’s weird how long we’ve been here?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, it does feel strange,” Trixie said. “It’s almost like we’ve been here many months, but I know we’ve only been here a little over a week.”

“I know, right? By now, we’d likely been through at least one other country, maybe two, with likely a companion or somepony in tow.”

“Given how long it’s been, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d added another woman to your family by now, under more normal circumstances,” Trixie said. “As long as we got along, I’d be fine, but I’m not so sure on the others. Sharing you can be hard sometimes, you know.”

“I have love to give to all of you, no matter how many there are,” Spike replied. “I don’t want a hundred wives, and I'll equally and eternally love all that I have. Besides, as of now, I think four is more than enough for a dragon like me.”

“But what if the situation arises where there are, indeed, more? The book mentioned that dragons grow to suit the sizes of their hoards,” Trixie said. “If you have any more wives, will you not grow to suit them, as well?”

“Unless you mean grow larger, I’m not entirely sure how else I would change,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I’d get naturally stronger or something, but there’s not much else I can think of.”

The unicorn smiled as she carefully knelt in front of her husband, her hands skillfully moving up and down his thighs, as they had done many times before. “I can think of one thing...”

Seems she hadn’t been unaware of his nightly trysts with Asalah after all, and was feeling a tad left out. It was time to rectify that.

Later...

The winds picked up quickly in the early afternoon, just as the sun began its lazy descent towards the far horizon. An oncoming storm, complete with grey clouds travelling with the wind, brought the promise of a light snow storm, the likes of which were fairly common at this time of the year. Whether or not the snow would remain on the ground, or melt with a small warm snap, remained to be seen.

“Well, Spike, it pains me to say it, but it's time for you to leave my company,” Tsar Nicholas, resplendent in uniform with medals and all sorts of ribbons adorning his chest, said, shaking the dragon’s hand. “It was good to have guests from distant shores, it is not often I receive such well-mannered ones, as well.”

“We tried our best,” the dragon replied. “Thank you for your hospitality, your highness. It was very nice to rest and relax for a change.”

“So I would hope,” Tsarina Alexandra said with a smile. “Is your family ready to go?”

“All packed up,” Spike said. “Just waiting on this guide of yours.”

“Yes, yes, Hadhayosh has a bit of a wandering streak in her, so, thankfully, we managed to find her before she set out. I more or less told her to live in Marescow for the past year, to train some of our scouts, but she’s fairly rebellious if cooped up too long,” the Tsar said, turning from his guests to a small cadre of troops, a tall figure amongst them. “Ah, here she is now. Hello, Hadhayosh, I was wondering if you’d beat the snow here.”

“My apologies,” the figure said, standing to her full height. “The city streets were crowded, and I did not wish to trample anyone.”

“A good thing, I would think,” Nicholas said. “Spike, this is Hadhayosh, she will be your guide into the lands of the Persian king.”

“Hello,” she replied, the steel ring through her nostrils glinting in the sun’s light. For a minotaur, or minotauress, she was fairly tall, a good six inches taller than Spike, minus the horns. Even then, said horns were fairly short, with copper rings around the bases and tipped in white, almost as if they were painted. Her fur, a mixture of brown and white, contained numerous blue glyphs from what Spike and his family could see, their patterns and lettering fairly unique. They were likely significant to her homeland, wherever that was. The rest of her, bulky but in a fairly muscular way, was covered by a brown travelling cloak, within which Spike could just make out a few travelling satchels and pouches. She used a fairly large and robust-looking walking stick, with a strange iron cap on one end, and a hole running through the tip of it.

“Hello,” Spike said, offering his hand. “I’m Spike, and this is my family.”

“Hello to you all as well,” the minotauress replied with a handshake, her firm grip and slightly larger than Spike’s own. “Are we ready to set out?”

“Yes, our carriages should take us well into the Persian king’s territory,” Maria said.

“Carriages?” Hadhayosh asked. “Well, if you wish, you may travel in them. Are you, by chance, expecting?”

The three pregnant mares blinked. “How did you-,”

“Intuition, my dear little pony, and I’ve travelled long enough to know someone with foal when I see one,” she replied. “It is alright, I can manage without a carriage. Now then, we should get going, the snow will not wait much longer, and the storm could make finding the trail difficult if we are not careful.”

“How long do you think it will take us to get there?” Chrysalis asked.

“Oh, not too long, though if mountain passes are blocked by snow, it’ll take us a bit longer,” the minotauress said. “Come now, into your carriages, we will go as soon as you are safely inside.”

“I’ll ride with Asalah, I’m not exactly in any condition to be walking for too long,” Eutropia said, limping slightly as they moved along. Her bouts with Spike had already advanced to the point where he held his own, so much so that she had to exert a significant amount of effort to beat him, unlike before. She was proud of his progress, but also a bit wary of how quickly he caught on. She’d have to find him another sparring partner soon, or else he’d easily pass her, and then what? Where would she be? What would she do then?”

“I shall walk alongside your carriage, I wish to hear of your travels,” Hadhayosh said, looking down at the smaller griffin and zebra. “Do not worry of our travel speed, we will make good time before the night is through.”

Indeed, for soon after the party bid the city of Marescow farewell, and journeyed off through the rolling countryside, small snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Light and fluffy, they were as white as the fine marble of palaces they had visited, and while the winds remained at a constantly low intensity, it would not be long before such weather was comparably nice.

Spike was grateful that the Tsar and his wife managed to find them clothes suitable for mares journeying through a colder climate. It wasn't often that ponies would go as far as they were set to, and despite their objections, Spike told them that they weren't to use too much magic to keep themselves warm. Using certain types of magic were more draining than others, and while his family could be kept warm by a variety of spells, Spike didn't want them taxing themselves if the climate was still cold. Once it got cold enough, however, such a rule would have to be relaxed for safety reasons.

As such, they continued on for several days, often for many hours at a time, stopping only long enough to gather supplies or rest. Hadhayosh seemed almost limitless in her energy, whether it was splitting wood for a fire with her walking stick (the metal cap’s purpose, apparently being a place to fit an axe head), somehow keeping pace with the quick carriages without so much as breaking a sweat, or regaling with everypony with tales of her travels throughout the years.

“Thus, that is why it is unwise to travel into the far reaches of Siberia, especially in winter,” the minotaur finished, adding another log to the campfire. All around them, the forest was still in the very dim light of the setting sun, the warmth of the Tsar’s palace long gone these days. The small forest, perched on a hillside, overlooked a vast array of small towns, fields, and countless patches of wilderness, though they were hardly that anymore. The settlers had beaten back the wilds in these lands enough that little was wild, save for the mighty rivers that swept this way and that, or the wild storms that would flare up on occasion. “It is a most dangerous gambit, for even if the cold, animals, the lack of water, or the lack of food don’t somehow kill you, the Wolfen will.”

“I never heard of Wolfen before,” Spike said. “What are they like?”

“Few have ever seen them, and fewer still know anything about them,” Hadhayosh replied in a soft tone, snowflakes falling gently around them, the branches of the evergreen trees providing some shelter for the carriages. “It is said that they once roamed all over these lands, stretching from the lands of Spreign all the way to the lands of Kamchatka, in packs beyond counting. Long ago, very long ago, indeed, there were a great many wars between their kind and other species, be they minotaur, pony, griffin, or others. The Wolfen always wished to be left to themselves, but their lifestyle, their diet, and their views on other species caused them to be viewed as anathema to herbivores. So the wars were fought, and while the Wolfen were skilled in many ways, they could not sustain the losses that were inflicted upon them.”

She added another small log to the fire, the sparks drifting up into the night sky as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared. “So, with war on their doorstep, many fought, and many more died. Some attempted to reach settlements with other species, but there had been too much blood spilled on each side for there to truly be peace. In the end, they did what they could; they fled, vanishing into the forests and mountains of the lands of Siberia. Few towns spring up in those areas, despite the territory belonging to Russia. No, many fear the cold, the ice, and what might be Wolfen, hiding in the trees. That fear, if they still live, is likely what keeps the Wolfen from becoming extinct.”

“How do you know this?” Chrysalis asked.

“In my travels, I have heard many tales of that taiga, stretching for countless miles in many directions. Becoming lost within it is far too easy, and surviving there is a day to day challenge for even the hardiest of folk. I would not go there unless I was truly desperate, in need of shelter from an enemy or a force far too strong for me to weather or overcome,” she paused. “There have also been stories of settlers seeking to tame those wild lands. Those that survive often return downtrodden, their pioneer spirit broken from the harshness of the land.”

“Sounds awful,” Maria said.

“Indeed, but therein lies the taiga’s true secret. It is a land of plenty and stark beauty for those who know how to use it, yet it seems that would remain solely in the realm of the Wolfen, should they still live, after all,” Hadhayosh said. “That, and any ice dragons that take up residence there in winter. I have heard tales of them coming down from the far north, into the hinterlands, sometimes farther than in other years. To them, the cold is nothing more than an annoyance at worst.”

“What about you?” Trixie asked. “Have you ever seen a Wolfen?”

“I am not sure,” the minotaur replied. “It may have been my imagination for all I know. I was once journeying with a large band of pioneers, attempting to settle a region along a river. At night, there was a guard duty, to keep watch, and I was one of them. I was tired from the travel, but off in the distance, in the darkness, I swore I saw eyes glowing in the dim light of the torches. Yet, I brushed it off, thinking it was perhaps just a normal wolf, or maybe a bear investigating. However...”

“Yes?” Asalah asked.

“When the full moon appeared from behind a cloud, off in the distance, I saw a figure, standing up on a rock ledge. As gray as the rock around it, it was as still as a statue, yet when a small cloud moved over the moon, it vanished without a sound. Naturally, I investigated the area before we headed out the next morning with a few others, but we found no trace of a visitor.” She smiled and exhaled, her hot breath mingling with the fire’s smoke. “Yet, as I said, I was tired, and perhaps it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I guess I’ll never know.”

“What happened to those pioneers?” Eutropia asked, her feathers bristling every now and then. She was not used to such cold, even with the nice winter clothes she wore, but she knew she would become used to it.

“They returned the following year, having just barely survived the winter,” Hadhayosh said. “Whatever houses they built are still likely out there, being taken back by the forest, slowly but surely.” She paused, looking out into the forest, her horns and steel nose ring glinting in the light of the fire. “We should get some rest, this snow will stay light, but my instincts are telling me a much larger storm is only a day or two away. We will do better in a larger town should that strike, and while many of the mountains may be behind us, there are still others to pass through.”

So it was, as before, they continued on, moving through the countryside, across rivers and mountains, through narrow valleys and wide open plains, amidst field, forest, marsh and the occasional scrubland or desert. Yet, throughout it all, they met many a friendly town, and there they could trade for supplies, either with what they had, or with Spike working for some of it. His family’s magic also helped in some cases, and wherever they went, they were given a warm sendoff. Truly, the residents of these lands, while cold to start, open up to strangers with all they have, and for that, the travelers were very grateful.

As the cold of the oncoming winter grew deeper, and the air began to dry with the loss of moisture, Spike felt that it'd been a good thing for them to leave the Tsar when they did. Too much longer without a care in the world, and surely they would have lost the edge they had so carefully built up in their distant travels. Yet, even now, the dragon wondered just what else lay in store for them, in the lands of Persia, the lands of the Marengols, and beyond. He still had months of travel to go, and he had a long time to think of how to explain his predicament with Chrysalis to the rest of Equestria.

Only, he’d have to make time to do so, because he was fairly preoccupied with the thought of all the conflicts in this region of the world, any of which could come upon them like a storm across the plains. There was no way of telling just what was going to happen when he encountered any Marengols, who always traveled in force, and likely cared little for diplomatic niceties with a representative of Equestria. Then there was the Persian king, who, according to Hadhayosh, was a tad strange, and thus an enigma for him to try and prepare for. The lands of China had seen enough conflict within the last generation or two to fill several books, so he had little inkling of what politics lay there for him. Beyond that, to the lands of Japan, India, Indonesia, and back to the continent Equestria dwelt upon, to the kingdoms of minotaurs, griffins, and dragons. It was strange he wasn’t visiting the realm of the Diamond Dogs, but Spike honestly thought that was for the best.

It went without saying that he had his work cut out for him. Would he make it back to Equestria in time for his foals to be born there? How would meeting Trixie’s parents work out? Would the castle additions Celestia told him about be completed in time?

There was so much to consider that he almost didn’t realize that the carriage had come to a stop. Peeking out the window, he soon saw the reason for it. A great host of ponies, along with a scattering of griffins and a few diamond dogs, were camped around the road. Judging from their distinct language, the fair number of spent supplies, and the strange armor and weapons, they were not Marengols, but, instead, likely fleeing the rule of the Maregols, or just seeking greener pastures elsewhere.

Many of them looked haggard and worn, with torn or filthy clothes, their eyes sunken slightly and always looking to the east, to the horizon, as if expecting something to arrive at a moment’s notice. The ones armed with weapons seemed intent on resting, though judging from how many women and children clustered around them, they were likely the only source of protection they had.

“Who are they?” Spike asked, turning to Hadhayosh, who, as always, was right outside the carriage window, keeping pace without even appearing winded.

“Refugees,” the minotauress replied. “They are what is left of a city that tries to resist the Marengols, or, at least, they are the ones who fled before the city was besieged. My guess is that they are of the steppes outside of the Marengol homelands, judging from their armaments. Or perhaps they are Persian? It is hard to tell where one stops and another begins, sometimes.”

“Refugees?” The dragon repeated. “Don’t they know that winter's coming?”

“Winter is already here, yet their flight is similar to that of others these days,” Hadhayosh replied. “I have seen this before, many times, in fact, where those that escape death and destruction wander aimlessly, seeking some place to call their own and to try and rebuild their lives. I am guessing what we see are the survivors of the original host that left whatever city or nation that fell under the wrath of the Khan, either splitting apart as it went along, or succumbing to starvation, disease, or exhaustion.”

Indeed, there were very few children amongst the gathered folk, and even fewer elderly. Whatever supplies they had were of a lighter variety, only what they could carry, and what few carts the refugees had were very worn down and hastily patched up with whatever must have been on hand.

“Where are they going to go? The nearest city is well over twenty miles ahead, but they don’t know that, and it’s only going to get colder the longer they stay here.”

Hadhayosh simply shrugged. “Wherever they stop is where they will likely stay. It is too far to go somewhere warm to survive the winter, so unless a nearby city has enough food stores to feed them, they will try and set up camp outside of one, working for food instead of coin. Yet, if not...”

“Isn’t there anything we can do for them?” Trixie asked, poking her head out from the other carriage alongside them.

“Unless you are willing to part with all of your food, as well as all of your coin, then I doubt so, for giving some would be almost as bad as giving none,” the minotauress said. “It would merely prolong their suffering, rather than alleviate it. Unless you possess the magic skill required to forge homes for them out of these forests, then we should be on our way.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Spike said, turning away from the refugees, who were just beginning to approach, with a fearful curiosity. “Maria, Trixie, Chrysalis, how good are you at spells?”

“Depends on the spell,” Chrysalis said. “Some are easier than others, and though I did summon that storm back off the African coast, I’m not so sure I’d be able to do something like that again. Transforming something from base materials into something else is a cinch, as would be splitting or cutting something.”

“We can do what we can, though nothing like that either,” Maria and Trixie replied. “Mend clothes or tools, maybe.”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Here now, I’ve got an idea...”

Two days later...

“Well, dragon, color me impressed,” Hadhayosh said with a smile. I am sure tales will be told of you to these people’s children and their children’s children.” The leader of the troop, one of the few elders, a griffin with several bald patches amidst almost white feathers, nodded with great enthusiasm in agreement.

“It was the least we could do,” Spike replied as he set down several larger logs, having swelled to the proportions of a small giant. As it turns out, growing to a much larger size is very helpful when you build any sort of shelter. Styled in a longhouse fashion, with two main entrances like a barn and several side doors, it was fitted with countless interlocking logs, stick, and whatever stones had been fashioned into bolts. The sealants of moss from a nearby swamp were perfect for keeping out the cold, but the ground inside would take some time to compact into a dirt floor.

All in all, it was a start, and likely a good place to hold over for the winter, even if it didn’t look the best. Still, with the help of his family’s magic, in which they were able to turn several shields into axes, repair nearly all of the old wagons, and fix a countless number tattered clothes, the refugees would have the means to harvest enough wood to survive the winter. They would still need to venture to the nearest town to gather supplies and find work, but now, at least, they could rest and not worry about freezing to death.

Bidding the beyond-grateful refugees farewell, Spike, his family, and his travelling companions set out once more, traveling further south, through great open plains, wide expanses of woodland, and across mighty rivers that winded their way down into great lakes or even larger rivers. Off in the distance, snow-capped peaks of mountains barred travel, many of the passes likely closed or far too difficult to traverse now, but as they moved further to the east to avoid them, the party found themselves alongside the coast of a great inland sea. Here, they would, again, stop for supplies, though given how the temperature slowly climbed, it was difficult to say whether or not they would need their winter coats for much longer.

By now, their travels had significantly enhanced their endurance, to the point where, on warmer days, Spike’s wives would endeavor to walk, leaving the carriage filled with only trinkets, valuables, and whatever supplies that wouldn’t fit on the outsides. Granted, they did not move as fast these days, but in good weather, that was fine by them.

Hadhayosh continued to regale them with stories of her travels, from the great pyramids of Giza to the Great Wall of China, from the foothills of the Himarelayas to the great frozen north, even to where ice dragons were the only sapient life for many miles, and great cities of ice intermingled along the rocky coastline. She seemed particularly fascinated by why Spike would send things back to Equestria by way of his magic fire, though more out of wondering as to what whomever he sent it to was doing with it.

One of these nights, several miles from the border to the realm of Persia, they stopped at the base of an old watchtower, surrounded by ruins of what may have been an ancient castle keep. Given how nobody lived near here, they felt relatively safe, though Spike and Eutropia still offered to keep watch while Hadhayosh told stories.

Eutropia was glad for the loss of the cold, as she was more suited to warmer temperatures. Her kind had come from mountains, yes, but she preferred the Mediterrmanean climate. It suited her needs for most of the year, anyway, but she could tough it out; she knew she could.

“Anything?” Spike asked, walking in from his post. With no forests nearby, and the only trees a long-abandoned orchard under the base of the tower, it would be easy to spot anyone approaching.

“Only birds,” the griffin replied. “You?”

“Just a slight breeze,” the dragon said with a shrug. “What’s the minotaur’s story this time?”

“About her kids,” Eutropia said, looking down at the campfire, where the others sat, talking and laughing. “She’s had five since she was of age, though for a minotaur, that can be as early as thirteen. Guess her tribe was a stickler for having children early or something.”

“I see,” Spike said. “Eutropia, have you ever given thought to that?”

She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Maybe... someday... I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms. “Why do you ask? This one of those “fatherly instincts” kicking in, like Hadhayosh thought they would?”

“Just the fact I’ll be a father is making me think of the future more than I used to,” he replied. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”

“Well, if I meet that right guy, then yes, I’d want to have kids,” the griffin said. “A clutch or two, depending on how many eggs. Push them to be the best they could be, supportive, a shoulder to lean on but a stickler for discipline, kinda like...” She hadn’t expected to pause, which surprised her, but she couldn’t help it.

“Like who?”

“Like my father was,” Eutropia said, after a moment. Strange, how talking with Spike about her father wasn’t making her cry. No, it felt... relieving to tell someone other than her mother. “He was important to my mother and me. I really miss him.”

“I’m sorry,” Spike said, leaning against one of the old orchard trees. “I lost my dad too, but before I hatched, and ended up being raised by Twilight’s family, who I guess you could say adopted me. I’ve heard good things about him. His name was Razor.”

“Mine was Deimos. I was lucky to have had one as good as him.”

“I just wish I could've met him. Growing up without a father just... it was hard, at times.”

“What about your mother?” Eutropia asked. The memory of her mother still stung, but she hid her face, not wanting Spike to see the single tear form in the corner of her eye. Why she wanted to hide that from him, she couldn’t quite understand. A sense of avoiding apparent vulnerability? Or was she trying to hide it so she couldn’t admit it, herself, about how much she missed her mother; about how much she wished she was here?

“I never met her either,” Spike said, looking out at the cloudless sky, a shooting star passing by a fairly slender crescent moon. “My mother, that is. I was in Princess Celestia’s care for a long time, and whenever I asked her or Luna, neither could tell me about her. That is, unless they didn’t wish too. Maybe they thought I couldn’t handle the truth, whatever it is.”

“It’s not the loss that hurts the most,” the griffin said as they locked eyes, yet again. “It’s the loss of certainty; not knowing; always wondering; the hope battling with foreboding, just trying to find answers in a world that doesn’t want to give them. It sucks,” she confessed, finding that opening up to Spike was far easier than she thought, though why she was, she couldn’t quite say.

“Don’t I know it,” the dragon said with a soft chuckle. “Well, I’m going to go check on the others again. I’ll be back in a bit, gonna stay at my post a bit longer before I switch with Hadhayosh. I swear, her stamina is as endless as the stars in the sky.”

“Not going to argue with that,” Eutropia said with a chuckle of her own. “Goodnight, Spike.”

“Goodnight, Eutropia.”

As he walked off, Eutropia couldn’t help but think back to his earlier question, a nagging little thought that she thought was long buried in the back of her mind, but apparently not. The subject of children had been a fairly touchy one, between her grandmother and mother, if only because her mother had refused to remarry after Eutropia’s father passed away. Why a successful, beautiful, and intelligent griffon like her mother had stayed single afterwards was still a mystery to Eutropia.

To her, it simply made sense to remarry if young enough, if only to try and have enough children to carry on your genes and pass on your legacy. She understood that if you loved the one you lost enough, that trying to move on could hurt almost as bad as losing them in the first place, almost as if you were trying to replace them.

Then again, if that same loved one loved you so much that being without them hurt you, it would indeed be difficult to move on, yourself. Love could very easily be one-sided, as she had seen with countless others of her age, but the love between her mother and father had been special. She recognized that, even at a young age, and now, as then, she could only hope to have that same love in her life.

Yet, therein lay another path in her mind, bringing it all full circle. Spike was not only going to be a father, but his life had been training him to be one. She knew he would be a good father, both thanks to her training, and all the obstacles he had overcome in his life so far. Being a good father wasn’t just about knowing when to say no, and to deliver punishments that fit the crimes, it was also about being supportive, to love unconditionally, even if it hurts. He already loved his family more than she thought one with a herd could, but given his heritage, it made sense.

Dragons had feelings far deeper and stronger than most other races, so of course those he loved would be loved far more, compared to anyone else. So, he had that going for him. But she sensed something else. His lack of knowing his father, and never having met his mother, betrayed something he might not have even realized yet.

He wanted the family he never had. Even though it was apparent that he adored his adoptive family, he's always wanted something he never had, and, thus, would give his own offspring something he lacked: a father.

Come hell or high water, Eutropia knew he would do anything he could; there would be no obstacle, no foe, nor any problem he wouldn't try to surmount for his family, be they his adoptive family, his wives, or his children.

It made her smile, both inside and out. There were thoughts she had, dreams of both night and day, which she kept to herself, never letting anyone know. Dreams of her in the sky, flying free, with a male griffin alongside her, their wings spread gracefully behind them. Their hands intertwined as they danced across the clouds, light shining from the sun as they pulled each other close.

Yet, these dreams, they always ended the same, her waking up just as he pulled her closer, his eyes meeting her own. However, now there was a new wrinkle in these dreams, where that faceless griffin had defined shape, a face, yet it was not that of a griffin, but of a dragon she had grown to know...

She chuckled softly to herself. She would allow herself to dream of this, if only because it was a pleasant fantasy, a little lie to tell herself to keep her spirits up. To be loved like Asalah and the others; to be loved unconditionally; to have a family to call her own... it was truly a good thing to dream of.

Eutropia only hoped, secretly, deep down, out of sight, but not entirely out of her heart, that perhaps, someday, it would not be just a dream. Maybe, just maybe, if she worked hard enough at it, wished for it with all her might on every first star of every night, maybe, with a good bit of luck... maybe it wouldn’t be a fantasy.

Maybe, someday, it would be reality. Maybe, someday... it would be the truth.

She sighed as the stars in the sky continued to twinkle on, unconcerned by her inner thoughts and those on the ground beneath it. As a gentle breeze continued to sweep over the plains, however, one shooting star seemed to hover for a split second, as if listening in on these deep, private thoughts. Then, in an instant, it flashed, disappearing from the mortal realm.

Author's Notes:

Well, I got into a writing mood, and just went crazy for writing for about three weeks straight after being gone for a fairly lengthy amount of time. So, as a sort of half-assed apology, as well as to get this story going again, here's the first of two chapters to be published on the same day. I also have to thank Drone of War for letting me use their other OC, Hadhayosh the minotaur(ess), who I hope I have written justly.

Enjoy!