//------------------------------//
// Chapter 29 
// Story: Hegira: Option Gamma 
// by Guardian_Gryphon 
//------------------------------//

Fyrenn had a hard time sleeping.  The excitement of the evening's festivities had put his brain and emotions into overdrive.  

Nonetheless, he had managed to eek out a few hours of rest before sunrise.

When morning broke, he treated himself to a two minute shower, then went to find breakfast.
He didn't know if he was supposed to eat anywhere in particular, so he checked the great hall first to see if anyone familiar was up and about.

He found Kephic finishing reheated leftovers from the feast the night before.

"Morning!  Enough of that to share?"

"Always."

Fyrenn pulled up a chair to the hearth and joined his brother, "So what does my morning look like?"

"Busy.  We're setting out tomorrow, so you have today to get your equipment in order.  This evening we'll be getting parts of our group provisions together, and selecting another teammate."

The sudden nature of their forthcoming departure came as a shock to Fyrenn.  Intellectually, he had known that they were there first and foremost to track down a clan of Diamond Dogs working for the PER, and through them the chain of command leading up to high ranking targets.

But the festivities, the atmosphere, the culture...  The sheer euphoria of belonging and feeling so very much at home had pushed most of the concerns of Earth to the back of his mind.

The focus of their hunt returned now, in full force.  The HLF had been responsible for Skye's death, but in Fyrenn's mind the PER had been at least partly responsible, given that they caused the turmoil that gave the infiltrator easy access.  Not to mention how dangerous a threat they had become to the free will and choice of billions of people.

Fyrenn decided that the path to obliterating the HLF would have to begin with eliminating distractions first;  In this case the PER.

Only after considering this for a moment did Kephic's other statement hit home, "Oh yes...  That's right, we have to take someone else along."

Kephic shrugged, "Sildinar felt it was necessary that we fill both his role and Skye's.  Not that I think IJ does a particularly good job of filling her role, and not that whoever we're adding to the group is going to be in charge...  At this point it's more a shared responsibility between the three of us."

Fyrenn knew he meant the two of them together with Varan.  Though they held higher rank than he did, they treated him as an equal, following the time honored informal command structure that Gryphons seemed to have perfected over centuries of war and strife.

He absently toyed with a cold scallop before popping it into his beak.  The flavor was light, but sufficient.  A good breakfast meat.  He sighed contentedly, "I see what you mean."

"Hmm?"

"About how having a family makes dealing with...  Everything...  Easier.  Sometimes just the sheer contentment of it is enough."

"You'd be amazed how far that can get you.  I wouldn't be the person I am without Varan."

"I'd be a smear on a strip pavement if it weren't for *you*."

"And don't you ever forget it." Kephic laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"So, where to first?"

"You're expected on the archery range.  Unfortunately there's a bit of wasted time between that and the armory...  They're finishing up filling an order for backplates destined for an outlying settlement.  After that, you'll get a chance to grab some food, then it's off to the weapon forges.  You need a sword."

Fyrenn smirked, "I think I'm going to enjoy this.  It's embarrassing, a bit, but I'll need directions to the archery range.  I haven't seen any sort of map of the city, and I certainly haven't been here long enough to nail down the important spots."

Kephic nodded, "I'll do you one better; I'll take you there.  I have a few spare minutes before the vaults open.  It will be nice to have my own armor back.  Human made armor may be stronger, but I think ours is more comfortable."

Fyrenn replaced his chair against the wall, "Guess I'll find out for myself.  What happens to my armor...  I mean I don't think I'll ever have a family to pass it on to...  Do I gift it to someone?"

"You can.  If you've accomplished important or noteworthy exploits it might even be made into a monument somewhere.  I still think you're ruling out possible futures too quickly."

"Meh.  Humor me."





The archery range was actually an elevated circular platform ensconced in one of the enormous pine trees within the city's borders.  Arrows were fired towards a neighboring grove of trees outside the boundaries of the city, and the area was marked off in several spots with bright red cord that was immediately visible from the ground, or the air.

Long range shooting had to be done at the training grounds, the range space was more for the construction, maintenance, and calibration of archery equipment.  It had its own small solar forge, which Fyrenn occupied himself by examining intently while he waited for the range master.

The forge consisted of a tray, made of the same preternatural seamless shaped stone as the city's buildings.  Around it sat several crystalline lenses, which were lit by pushing a small level at the base of the assembly, which aligned mirrors to the sun.  The combined effect of the reflected rays through the crystal surfaces presumably heated objects in the tray to a malleable state.

Most of the shaping implements on the accompanying workbench looked to be meant for small precise tasks.  That made sense, given that the metal components of bows tended to be intricate and detail oriented.

The range master finally arrived, interrupting Fyrenn's examination of a peculiar hook shaped steel tool.  She was short, wiry, and gray.  She looked to be one of the older Gryphons Fyrenn had seen, and her expression and mannerisms instantly told him she was no slower, nor duller, for her years.

"You're the new Alarian?  Good! Light Bows are always a good choice.  Fun to make!  I'm Si'Kiel."

"Fyrenn," he clasped her foreleg in formal greeting, "Nice to meet you."  Her voice reminded him of his grandmother, if only in a small subtle way.

"So.  I've laid out some bows, you need to try each of them and let me know what stock of wood, grip type, fitting configuration, and limb length suits you best."

Si'Kiel led him to the edge of the platform facing downrange.  They had to walk through several partitions, and Fyrenn noted that there were rooms for storing materials, ammunition, and completed weapons.

The platform was roofed, and several of the rooms were enclosed, so rain and temperature issues had been thought out in advance.

The downrange edge of the platform sported a curved bench, which stood at waist level for the average Gryphon on their hind legs.  Five bows were laid out in a row, and several hundred arrows lay in a quiver propped against the bench.  To even Fyrenn's unpracticed eye, the differences in the weapons stood out.

Each bow was a different color, a result of the varying types of sapling used in their construction.  In each, the metal fittings had similar but different configurations, and last but not least their varying spans greatly altered their characteristics.  Or so he assumed.

Si'Kiel smiled, "Have at it.  I'm going to go start heating the steel rods for the fittings.  When you're done, come find me, and we'll get a sapling and the mechanical fittings."

Fyrenn began at the left end of the line, and fired each bow in sequence several times over, getting the feel for the individual firing characteristics; the way they bent, the arc of the arrow, the velocity, and the impact force.  The targets were large clay discs, designed to be highly visible so the shooter could evaluate not just where they had hit, but the way the impact shattered the target.

Fyrenn's sharp eyes spotted exactly four thousand, two hundred and eleven spent arrows within the range area.  Since they were metal, and not wont to degrade or damage much on impact, he wondered how often they were collected, repaired or reforged, and put back into use.

In the end he expended almost a quarter of the ammunition he had been given, finally narrowing it down to two weapons, from which he selected a final candidate.

The bow had a grip that registered dead center for thickness, it was neither the thickest nor thinnest of the bunch.  The span of the limbs was on the long side, but only the second longest of the five.  The fittings looked a bit more intricate than the rest of the bows, and after some experimentation Fyrenn realized they could be used to adjust many aspects of its firing characteristics.

Finally, the bow was made of the darkest wood out of the five.  Aside from the pleasant contrast between the aged wood, and the gleaming fittings, the composition seemed to lend the bow strength and durability.

Fyrenn folded it and gave a few experimental flicks to open it, repeatedly.
Doing so gave him an idea, and he hurried back to find Si'Kiel.

"I think I have a candidate."

She took the weapon from him, "Hmmm. Rare choice.  Most Alarians who take an Oaken adjustable multi-stage like this are either very foolish, and regret it eventually, or have a lot of natural talent and end up being able to use any bow they touch."

She glared intently, making Fyrenn slightly uncomfortable, "Show me what you can do.  I don't feel comfortable going with this unless you're sure you want this design, and can prove to me that you're going to be able to use it right."

Si'Kiel thrust the weapon back into his claws, and led him back to the range.
"Now.  Fire away.  Give me a good few shots from various positions so I can see how you move and think."

Fyrenn obliged, snapping the weapon to its extended position and letting off his first shot in one smooth motion, born of a touch of overconfidence.  The emotion was justified, as his first arrow hit home dead center of the furthest intact target.  He quickly went through five more arrows, firing from various positions, and once stopping to adjust the firing arc so he could arc a shot over an obstacle.

The curved arrow nearly missed, but the fact that it hit at all, given his low level of experience, seemed to impress Si'Kiel.

"Alright.  You show potential, I'll admit it.  Seems like you have a feel for kinesthetics.  You ever work a bow before...  You know...  Coming here?"

Fyrenn nodded, "I shot some practice rounds with crossbows.  Before that, I dealt mostly with guns, which are very complex projectile weapons.  So maybe some of that experience helps."

Si'Kiel gave him an appraising glare, "Don't stoop to false modesty.  You have natural talent, and you need to make sure you hone it.  I'll let you make one of these if..." She glared even harder, "*if* you promise to let me train you when you get back from whatever grand hunt they're dragging you off to."

Fyrenn smiled, "Deal!"

"Alright then! Oak it is."

Si'Kiel led him to a room filled with nothing but wood, shaped painstakingly over time by master crafters.  She went to the back and dug out an aged looking stock of the same dark oak as the candidate Fyrenn had chosen.  She blew a fine layer of dust off it, and wordlessly handed it to him.

Next, they retrieved a few pre-made mechanical components.  Si'Kiel informed him they would have to cannibalize two parts from the candidate bow, since they were too intricate to complete that morning, they didn't have time to make them later, and there were none in stock due to their rarity.

Finally, everything was ready.  The parts were fairly easy to remove from the original bow, the shaft was ready, and the small collection of thin steel rods in the solar furnace burned white hot.

Fyrenn's original idea came back to him.  Si'Kiel had pushed it out of his mind with her impromptu test, but seeing the sharp unprotected edges of the bow's limbs reminded him.

"This is supposed to be a design I can alter right?"

"Well..  In a sense.  I'm not gonna let you do anything ridiculous, like add a third limb."

Fyrenn chuckled, "No no.. I just had a thought.  Would it be possible to add blades? To the end of the limbs I mean.  Retractable, but setup so that the right kind of motion can open them.  It'd make the weapon more flexible in its use.  This oak stock is, correct me if I'm wrong, incredibly durable, especially when the steel binding is on.  It could handle the stress, and it'd give me something I could use as both a ranged weapon, and a basic bladed weapon, in the same moves."

Si'Kiel looked a bit taken aback, "You want blade tips for the limbs?"

Fyrenn nodded.  She shook her head in wonderment, "You are only the third Gryphon to ask for that in the one hundred and forty years I've worked here."

Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, "Who were the others?"

"One was a Paladin who went on to become one of the few warriors to slay a Wyvern in single combat.  The other was King Siidran."

She stared at Fyrenn for a long uncomfortable moment, her golden eyes seemed to be scanning his soul like a cheap paperback novel, or a news article.

Finally she broke the silence, "You're an interesting Alarian Fyrenn.  Most warriors think ahead to battlefield control, but not on the level you do.  Keep doing what you're doing."

She turned back to tending the steel rods.  Fyrenn assumed that her statement constituted and affirmation of his design alteration.

They spoke on and off, as she instructed him in the shaping of the steel fittings, fashioning of the leather grip, and installation of the more intricate components.  She intervened a few times to do tasks that required a particularly high level of skill, but otherwise Fyrenn did most of the actual work under her strict tutelage.

He appreciated the method;  It gave him an incredible appreciation for, and understanding of, the new weapon that was taking shape before him.  It would make field maintenance and repairs considerably easier.

Another thought occurred to him in the process of attaching several of the fittings, "Is it possible to add plating here, " he gestured to the weapon in two places, "and here?  That way, it can be used as a quarterstaff without fear of breaking it at the pressure points."

Si'Kiel nodded, "That's a bit more common than the limb blades.  Still kind of an oddity though, but you don't strike me as the type who shies away from unusual equipment."

Fyrenn grinned, "Whatever gave *that* away?"

Si'Kiel offered him a mildly disapproving smirk, and went to collect some spare steel plates, while Fyrenn attached the grip.  When Si'Kiel returned, she heated the plates until they glowed slightly, beat them into the proper shape with a small iron hammer, and helped Fyrenn bolt them to the frame of the weapon.

Finally, the bow was complete.  Fyrenn was amazed to note that several hours had passed.  He had been so intent on the work, that he had lost track of the sun, which was nearing its noon apex.

Si'Kiel gestured to a length of steel cord on the workbench, "Well? G'head.  String it."

Fyrenn did as he was told, and Si'Kiel only had to intervene once to correct a mistake.
When he was done, a fully fledged bow stood before him.  His weapon, his design, and mostly his work, thanks to Si'Kiel's guiding expertise.

"Can we test it?"

She gave him a look that bluntly informed him his question was stupid.
Of course they were going to test it.





Fyrenn touched down on the concourse, the proud owner of a new Alarian bow.
The weapon had performed exceptionally well during its test firing, and Si'Kiel had even given him a quiver to match.  
She told him the leather case meant very little to her, but it had seen action once or twice, so it was well broken in.

The quiver itself was shaped and hardened leather, with a comfortable strap to keep it on, and feather-light intricate steel ornamental binding.  It came with a two-flapped cap, the first flap had holes through which fifty arrows could be poked.  It provided enough friction that the projectiles could stay in during aerobatics, flight, and sudden jarring movements.

The second cap was a full piece of cylindrical leather that could fasten down and fully close the quiver.

The great hall was nearly deserted, but a passing Sagittar informed him that it was a training day, so lunch was being served wherever various groups of Knights and Squires happened to be doing their exercises.  He also told Fyrenn that the nearest group was in a sparring paddock not far from the concourse.

When he arrived, Fyrenn blinked in surprise.  The small grass circle was bounded by a short stubby wooden railing, and leaning against it were a variety of young Gryphons.  He guessed the youngest was sixteen, but he couldn't be sure.  The oldest looked to be twenty or twenty one.

The only other adult there was their instructor, but he seemed intent on repairing a broken gauntlet and didn't look to be up for conversation.  Fyrenn though it might seem a little awkward for him to butt in, but he was starving, so he helped himself quietly to some of the food, which consisted of skewers of cold meat laid out on a clean flat stone, open for all to take.

He found a quiet spot to rest near a large upright stone.  The slab of granite looked to be part of the mountain that had simply decided to jut up through the grass.  He leaned against the cool surface, and bit into his skewer.

It wasn't until she spoke that he realized he had company.  "Hey."

He glanced behind him, and saw that a young Gryphon had gotten the same inclination to find a cool quiet eating spot.  She was a tawny shade of gold, with a white head sporting light purple eye and crest markings.

Fyrenn nodded, "Hey."  He was going to leave it at that, but then his curiosity got the better of him, "So...  You're a squire?"

"Yep.  5th rank, and top of my class!"  She seemed proud of the accomplishment, so Fyrenn assumed '5th rank' meant she would graduate soon.

"I'm Fyrenn."  He offered a claw.

She shook it, briefly, "Gilda.  What brings you down here?"

"Food, the best of reasons for going anywhere."

"Heh.  I hear ya."

That was it for the conversation.  They finished their meals in silence.  Gilda looked to be lost in thought, Fyrenn spent the time comparing her coloration and markings to the reconstructed 3D models of Bald Eagles he'd seen in the Natural History Museum.

He had arrived late, so the Squires, Gilda included, finished long before he did, and went back to sparring in pairs.  He noted with no small level of interest that they all wore light leather padding with thin, unadorned metal plates on the leg and wing joints.

For weapons, they used wooden quarterstaffs.  And they fought rough, though never it seemed out of spite.
The instructor never seemed to need to intervene, they tended to lay off once an opponent was beaten.

Fyrenn fell to watching Gilda specifically as he finished his skewer of meat.  He noticed she was amazingly acrobatic, far more so than any in her class.  She was also much more aggressive, and while she never crossed the line, she was clearly just a little bit merciless.

Whenever her opponent got a shot in on her, they paid for it in spades with bruises.

At one point the instructor did finally have to intervene.
As he led the winded younger male out of the circle, Fyrenn caught him mumbling something about Gilda being his 'somehow best and worst student.'

Fyrenn knew it wasn't his place to get involved, but he did have some spare time on his claws, and Gilda looked talented.  She was still too young to outmatch him, by benefit of his reach at the bare minimum, let alone years of general combat experience, so he felt comfortable from a skill standpoint.

He sidled over and tapped the instructor on the shoulder, then gestured to Gilda, "May I?"

The Gryphon snorted, "Have at it, if she'll let you.  Maybe you can knock some proprietary into her.  I warn you, she hits *hard.*"

Gilda had been watching the whole exchange, and as Fyrenn moved to join her in the ring, her expression seemed to indicate that she was amused by the situation.  

She jerked a thumb at him, "You and me?"

He nodded.

For a moment he thought she would refuse, but instead she shrugged, and added nonchalantly, "Why not?  Maybe you'll be a challenge."

Fyrenn removed his bow from its attachment point on the side of the quiver, and snapped it open.  The display brought a complete halt to the rest of the mock duels, and everyone quickly exited the ring to give him and Gilda a wide berth.  The instructor motioned for his students to watch, and learn.

Fyrenn twirled the bow a few times, getting a feel for it as a quarterstaff, "So... Ever face a Knight in combat?"

Gilda smirked, and moved her own staff through a complex series of twists, "I beat up my instructor once or twice.  You don't look to be much better than him."

Fyrenn hooked her staff between the string of the bow and the shaft, and twisted, forcing her to drop the weapon, following through by smacked her lightly on the head with a wing.

"I've been on the field of combat once or twice."
The tone in his voice made the sardonic humor of the statement imminently clear.

Gilda snarled, and lunged after her staff.  She was even more agile than Fyrenn had realized, and she nearly left him with a large bruise of his own.  But she was also acting purely out of anger, and while that might work against her normal opponents, Fyrenn knew, marginally, better.

He easily deflected the incoming barrage of strokes with the plates of his bow, putting in his own set of harsh raps to Gilda's armor.  He didn't want to hurt her, but he did want to jostle her.

Her potential talent was being offset by her emotions.  He had experienced the same effect recently enough to be well aware of the signs.

"You know, if you bury your fury enough to leave just a smoldering coal, rather than a haze of red, you might actually be lithe enough to put a shot through."

"Oh yeah? What do *you* know about fury?"

"Plenty."  He administered three quick blows which left her face down, beak buried in the grass.
"I know it'll put you flat on your ass faster than anything on the battlefield. From experience."

She lunged, he dodged, "Oh come *on*! You're better than that!  You're probably better than *me* if you'd just think for a dang minute."

She ignored his advice, so he thwacked her soundly three more times, punctuating each stroke with a word, "Get! it! together!"

She lifted herself more slowly this time, taking a moment to brush the grass out of her fur and feathers. He thought she might come at him again, but instead she begrudgingly set down her stave, "Alright.  I give.  How did you do that?"

Fyrenn thought he noted a tiny glisten in the corner of her eyes, and for a moment he was taken so far aback that he didn't speak.  Clearly no one else noticed it, so he forged on ahead, "I'll show you."  He gestured for her to leave the ring, so the rest of the lesson could resume for everyone else.

The Instructor shot him an expression as he passed, which he interpreted as thanks.

Fyrenn and Gilda resumed their sparring on the far side of the upright stone, moving slowly and making practice moves as they talked, "No, plan your arcs.  You want to have as many options for defense and retaliation open as possible after each swing.  If you choke up on the grip you'll lose some force, but gain agility and speed.  Stop using killing blows to open, save it for when you *know* you have a clear shot."

She grunted, "So what makes you such an expert?  You must be an Alarian...  Where'd you learn to teach?"

Fyrenn grinned, "I didn't.  Most of my experience was as a Special Forces Marine in the Earthgov military."

She whistled, "So you're *that* red Gryphon.  The convert.  And here I thought Humans were dweebs."

"Nah.  Soft skin, brittle bones, very very big brains.  And even bigger weapons.  I've faced down guns that could punch holes in this mountain."

"Noooo..."

"Yes.  Don't count em' out just because they aren't built for war physically.  We adapt.  You should too."

"Hey! I do just fine!"

Fyrenn shook his head, "You're wasting your potential.  Emotion is a helluva pitfall for us Gryphons.  
I should know, I've been recently.... *Intimately* introduced to the detrimental effects of the wrong emotions in the wrong places.  It's easy to see that losing bothers you.  Buck up, and concentrate on the bigger picture."

Gilda lowered her stave and grunted, mumbling, "What if I don't like the bigger picture?"

Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, she waved him off, "Nothing that concerns *you!*"

He hadn't meant to get really involved, he figured he was just going to give her some pointers, and then let it be.  In truth, he had also wanted a good excuse to test his bow as a melee weapon.

But now that he was in it, he couldn't let it slide.

Something was eating the young Gryphon up from the inside out, and if she hadn't dealt with it yet it was likely because she had no one to help her sort it out.  It was a shot in the dark, and a bold deduction, but Fyrenn went for it.

He jammed his bow out, flicking the blades into view from their hidden compartments, blocking her way.  She growled, low and menacing. 

He snorted, "You know what I think? I think something is eating you up.  You know why? Because I know the feeling!"

She shoved the weapon down and made as if to leave, "You don't really know what it's like..."

He hissed, the sound was threatening enough to bring her up short.  Her ears instinctively flattened.  He punctuated his words with steps, ending with his beak directly in her face, "Yes. I. Do.  I don't think *you* know how bad it can really get.  I've lost friends.  One of whom I had to kill *myself.*  So don't pretend your problem is any worse than mine.  You want to brush off an offer of a friendly ear?  Fine.  But don't do it because you think no one else knows how much the world hurts."

He backed off, "Now I dunno what's eating you, but I *do* know what it's like, and I know you probably haven't dealt with it.  If you don't? You're only setting yourself up for failure. You don't have to talk to me, but you have to talk to *someone.*  Got it?"

Gilda shook her head.  Traces of tears were back in the corners of her eyes, but her voice was steady, "I don't have anyone.  Dad...  Well...  He's away on the frontier.  Wouldn't take me with him.  Won't be back for a year or more."

Fyrenn knew better than to ask about her mother.  Gryphons had a truly hardwired morality.  They didn't experience infidelity, let alone divorce, so it likely meant she was dead.

He once again went out on a limb, "Well you can talk to me then.  It sure as heck isn't anything to be ashamed of, if *that's* what you're thinking.  Humans have a phrase, 'shit happens.' '"

She cocked her head, "Shit---?"

He interrupted her, "It means erhm.... uh..."

"Oooooh! Hah! That's a new one!"
Her momentary amusement was short lived.

Fyrenn pressed her, "Well?  When else re you going to get a chance to pour it all out to someone you will probably never see again?  There can be comfort in that if your pride has already taken a beating."

Wordlessly, she sat down on her haunches in the shade of the rock.  Fyrenn sat beside her, and waited patiently.  She began, haltingly at first, then picked up momentum as bottled up fear, anger, and resentment finally saw the light of day.

"Dad's away...  Mom...  She was gone before I was old enough to know her.  Mining accident.  How *lame* is that?"

She paused, holding back tears, "So I'm an acrobat, right? I mean I'm *awesome!* The schools here? They're mainly focused on combat acrobatics, warfare and long distance flying.  I aced all the courses, then wanted more.  So I went to Pegasus flight school.  They go for the pure acrobatics you know?  And I think maybe it ticked off my Dad."

Fyrenn nodded, "You wanted his attention."

"Yeeeah."

"Well does he love you?"

"Sure! He's just...  Busy.  Always.  He's the Champion Paladin for our Kingdom, and while he holds the title he...  Well there's an endless stream of dweeby Diamond Dogs pestering him for mining rights in the area.  We have a lot of gems out there on the Desert."

Fyrenn nodded again, this time letting her continue under her own power.

"So I went away to flight school and I met someone.  Rainbow. Dash."
She said the words reverently, the way one might refer to a family member.

She snorted and continued, "Dash? She's awesome! Even by Gryphon standards.  I'd never met a Pony with that kinda... well...  Spunk.  You know?  So we became friends.  Everyone else was kinda scared of me, but Dash? She even tried meat once!  On a whim!  Out of curiosity!  Can you believe that?  A Pony and meat?"

Fyrenn chuckled, an image of IJ grimacing her way past a scallop forcing its way into his mind's eye.

Gilda continued, "Anyways.  For Four years, we were the *best* friends.  She was family, by the end.  Real family.  My sister."

Fyrenn nodded, "So...  What happened?"

Gilda snorted, "Dweebs happened.  So awhile back, I get some free time from training...  And there's a yearly envoy group going to Canterlot.  Dad got me a spot tagging along.  Where Dash lives is only a short flight away from Canterlot, so I dropped in for a visit."

"And?"

Gilda growled, "And she had...  Friends."

Fyrenn shrugged, "Your point?"

Gilda switched from depression to rage faster than Fyrenn could pull a pin from a grenade, "My POINT?!  My point is she was FAMILY to me!  They had no BUSINESS trying to shut me OUT of her LIFE!"

And in the space of a heartbeat, she flipped back to depression.  Gilda began to cry, full out sobbing, burying her head in Fyrenn's shoulder, near the crook of his wing.

He awkwardly patted her back, not sure how to deal with the storm of tears.  
He hadn't bargained for such a complicated situation.  Most Earthgov soldiers never cried openly to their squadmates.

Fyrenn waited for the tears to end, then he offered Gilda short sharp hug.
"Now. Tell me everything.  But especially how it makes you feel."

For the next hour, to his abject amazement, she poured out her heart.
She gave him a full recounting of the situation, and slowly, Fyrenn's unique perspective as a Convert brought the picture into focus for him.

When she had finished, he sat still for several moments.
Gilda had moved away again, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst, but deep down he knew she had needed a literal shoulder to cry on.  A father, or bigger brother figure.  He had been there.

He took a deep breath, and did the scariest thing he had done in months.
He offered relationship advice.

"It sounds to me, like it was a misunderstanding.  I'm new to this, but I just got adopted into a family and let me tell you...  If Kephic and Varan's friends acted that way, I'd have a hard time not taking it as them trying to shut me out.  But I've been a Human too.  I carry most of that with me still.  And that side of me knows that what they were doing wasn't meant to exclude you at all."

Gilda stammered, "But but..."

"Let me finish."  Fyrenn paused to see if she would wait, then forged ahead, "I know a few Ponies.  To them, friendship is this wonderful bubbly casual-yet-somehow-incredibly-deep connection with no rules, written or unwritten.  Just the unconditional love of friends."

He thumbed his chest, "For us?  The love of family is, in one sense, unconditional, but we still have unwritten rules.  Dash probably understood enough of those on an instinctive level to bond with you, but not enough to prevent the blow-up you just described.  If I had to guess, and I often do, I'd say what you expected was for her to value you above them.  After all, you're family, they're just friends.  Right?"

Gilda nodded, wiping a stray tear from the purple feathers around her eyes.

"Wrong."

She cocked her head, "Whaddya mean?! We *are* family!"

Fyrenn nodded, "Yes. You are.  But so are her friends.  She just acts differently towards them because it's a different kind of family bond, one that we don't instinctively understand from the get-go.  We have to learn it.  Just as most Ponies have to learn what a Gryphon familial bond is, or what Human relationships are, and vice versa.  That misunderstanding led to you thinking they were trying to shut you out, and your reaction made them think you were...  Well...  How do you say it?  A 'dweeb.' "

Gilda sat back, looking dazed, but gradually her expression turned sour, "Well what does it matter anyways?  She's never gonna wanna talk to me again...." She idly scrawled patterns in the grass with her index talon.

Fyrenn smacked her lightly, almost imperceptibly, upside the back of the head, "Stop that *right* now.  If she really was family to you, then you by far and away haven't crossed any kind of unforgiveable line.  Now if you go back there, apologize to her, and then explain why you felt like you did, then you'll probably get a hug, a laugh, a smile, and you'll get your life back."

Gilda looked aghast, "APOLOGIZE?! *they* were the ones who---"

"Yes.  And no.  Their unintentional offense against you is *no* smaller than *your* unintentional offense against them.  But if you apologize first, you take the high ground, and the noble route.  That gives them room to understand.  And once they understand, they'll probably apologize too, and who knows...  Maybe they're not so dweeby as you think.  Family mergers happen right?  Maybe you'll come out of it with a bigger family."

Gilda looked a bit taken aback, so Fyrenn pressed on,  "Worst case? Absolute worst case, where she kicks you out and tells you never come back?  Then at least you have closure to it, and you can get the hell on with your life.  But don't sit on this.  You're a Gryphon.  We don't sit on things, we *act.*"

Fyrenn punctuated his final word with a solid thump to her shoulder blades.

Gilda gave him a look that was a confusing mixture of gratitude, melancholy, hope, and curiosity, "Who *are* you really anyways?  Why do all this for me?  Why bother?"

Fyrenn sighed, "Because once? I let a break with a friend...  A brother...  Go unfixed.  And it led to him throwing a grenade at me.  I had to shoot him.  I walked away from it.  He didn't."  He fixed Gilda with his gaze, hoping his own eyes could convey the meaning in his words, "Don't'! Let! This! Sit!"

She nodded, "All Right...  I guess.  The next envoys go in..."

Fyrenn shook his head, "No.  You go *now.*"

She sighed, "I can't.  I couldn't make that kind of trip alone at my age, they would never let me...  And no one is gonna volunteer to go with me."

Fyrenn smiled, "I would, but I have...  Other concerns."

Her face fell, he grinned, "But I think I know someone who could arrange for it if I asked nicely on your behalf."

She looked up, and smirked, "Nah.  It'd probably take an order from the King to get me leave from training for a personal visit."

Fyrenn stood grinning.  It took her a few seconds to catch on.

"No. Way.  You know the King?"

"Yes. Way."

Fyrenn spent the rest of his free time that afternoon making a young gold and white Gryphon, with purple crest marks, very happy. 

And very hopeful.

He hadn't intended to become involved, but deep down it made him feel warm and content to have helped Gilda.  

As he left the great hall, leaving an astonished Gilda in the capable claws of Linnea, thoughts of what it would be like to have a son or daughter of his own pried their way into his brain, and not for the first time.

He admitted the appeal to himself, then banished them swiftly.
Aside from his inhibitions, he had plenty of other things on his mind.
Not the least of which was a good set of armor.