“Wow that's crazy,” Tom muttered.
The man turned griffoness tipped the bowl back and gulped down the last bit of the soup. He polished it off with the final dregs of his water which washed down the earthy meal easily. Though it contained more minerals than he would normally like, the water was at least crisp and cool.
“Yeah they have totally cool magic,” Gretchen gushed. “They can shoot lasers, and move stuff with their mind!”
“For some reason, it's weird to think that magic is real,” Tom admitted. “And that there are some super powerful ponies half a world away which control the sun.”
“And the moon!” Gretchen claimed.
Tom chuckled, and nodded, patting the young griffoness on the head. “And the moon. You sure do know a lot of stuff.”
The child beamed under the praise, grinning widely. “Thanks, lady! Mommy ran out of storybooks so she started telling me about other places and stuff.”
“You are quite the curious one, aintcha?” Tom remarked.
“Remember though,” Gordon began, the male stopping and depositing a bundle of wood next to the fire. “Curiosity killed the-”
“Cat, I know,” whined the child. “You tell me that every day.”
“Well it's true,” Gordon stated.
He then deposited his ax against the wall and began prodding at the embers within the fireplace with an iron poker. Nearby, Griselda was working away in the kitchen, preparing some manner of jam using a press, and a crank. All in all, it was a quiet, contemplative scene despite the strangeness, and Tom couldn't help but feel a little at home.
He quickly brushed aside that feeling, however, reminding himself that he had maybe a day or two left here. After that he would be on his own in this bizarre alternate world he found himself thrust into the middle of. That was a sobering thought without even thinking back on the fact that he needed to kill a wolf all by himself.
Without the ability to fly, a gun, or really any weapon at all.
“Woah are you okay lady?” Gretchen asked, poking Tom’s chest. “You went white as a sheet.”
“N-nothing,” Tom stuttered. “Just worrying that I may never get my memories back.”
“I wouldn't worry about that none,” Gordon exclaimed, poker in claw. “The doc mentioned that your head was okay so it will probably only take a day or so for them to come back.”
“She did say that this was a problem before her little tumble,” Griselda pointed out.
Gordon paused mid-poke and nodded. “I suppose only time will tell.”
“I hope they come back soon. Being homeless in this strange place is scary,” Tom murmured.
“Don't worry. We’ll protect you!” Gretchen declared.
“For another day or so,” Gordon added. “You may seem relatively harmless, but your still a stranger.”
Griselda hummed to herself and seemed ready to offer something, but a pointed look from Gordon stopped her from speaking. So the griffon went back to her task, ignoring Tom’s curious glance from the bed. Though tempted to inquire further, and maybe ask about what he might do in order to earn his keep for a little longer, a sharp jab of pain distracted him.
Clutching at his wounded leg, Tom groaned and shut his eyes tightly. Immediately causing Gretchen to leap up on the bed and gasp in shock.
“Oh my gosh. Does it hurt?” asked the small child.
“Like you wouldn't believe,” Tom muttered. “Guess I didn't know how bad it is while you were talking to me about stuff.”
“Well, I guess we know how long the pain killers last,” Gordon remarked.
Griselda rolled her eyes. “Go get the ointment the doctor left. I’ll change the poor dear’s bandages.”
“Aye,” murmured Gordon before walking into the back room.
Tom ignored him however, his beak held shut tight as waves of agony rolled over him.
“Let go of your arm,” Griselda demanded in a soft tone. “I need to change the bandages and apply more ointment or else it's only going to get worse.”
Tom nodded and released the hold he had on his limb, allowing Griselda to take hold of it.
“Go sit over there Gretchen,” commanded the mother griffon.
“O-okay,” Gretchen murmured, gliding from the cot to the couch. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She's going to be just fine,” Griselda replied.
Tom winced as the first layer of gauze was peeled back, revealing the blood-soaked bandages beneath. A second, and then a third were peeled off as well, each one more painful than the last, until she reached the final one. That one was downright unpleasant to look at, with puss, and blood saturating almost the entire thing in a mat.
“We shouldn't have waited quite as long,” Griselda muttered. “This may sting, but it needs to come off.”
Tom nodded. “Do it.”
“Gretchen, ask your father to give me a cup of water,” Griselda commanded.
Gretchen wordlessly did as she was asked, sprinting into the back room and having a hurried conversation. A second later she and her father emerged, with the elder griffon holding a small circular container the size of a container of blush. He then dug into the cabinets and retrieved a jug of water, which he poured into a cup, that was placed in Griselda’s open hand.
“Here we are,” Griselda murmured in a low tone. “This might sting a little.”
Tom grit his beak and waited a few seconds before the water cascaded down his wounded arm. Wetting the gauze and causing an unpleasant prickling sensation from the points where the wolf had bitten him. That feeling didn't last long thankfully, though it was soon replaced by an incredibly unpleasant feeling that wasn't unlike removing a giant scab.
Griselda had begun to lift the gauze away and met resistance almost immediately. The griffon’s firm hand lifted the remaining section away, ignoring Tom’s whimpers of pain. Within a few seconds, the bloody bandage was removed completely, revealing a row of holes in his arm.
Though not overly deep, and actually mostly healed, they were still quite nasty to look at. Blood oozed out of a few and mingled with puss in pockets of flesh carved out by the wolf’s teeth. Tom nearly gagged just looking at it, and swiftly averted his gaze, closing his eyes tightly to avoid temptation.
A soft towel patted at both the top and bottom of the wound before being placed aside. A new bandage was then applied to the wound, one which was not quite as high quality as the last. Where the other felt like medical gauze, this was more like a clean sheet, one which was soft, but still a piece of bedding.
After the wound was covered a thin layer of brownish paste was applied across both sides. Tom watched this closely, noting that they had used up the rest of the mysterious ointment in the process. Despite the bit of panic, this realization gave him, the man turned griffon was still relieved, as a soothing cold radiated up his leg.
Within seconds it felt as though it was completely normal, as only a faint tingle of pain remained. This was lessened even more as several more layers of bandages were added atop the first. After the third was applied and tied tightly, securing the entire thing, Griselda took a step away from the cot.
“Well then. That wasn't so bad? I’d say you’ll be healed by tomorrow morning at this rate,” exclaimed the griffoness.
“Really? That fast?” Tom asked.
Gordon chuckled. “This forest may not look like much, but plenty of medicinal herbs grow around here.”
“I sure am glad for that,” Tom remarked.
“Why don't you get up and go for a little walk?” Gordon offered. “Clean air is good for the body.”
“But I gotta tell Tom about Nightmare Moon!” Gretchen whined.
Gordon snorted. “You don't need to fill this one’s head full of pony nonsense. Besides, who cares what those magical morons are up to across the ocean? We got our own problems here.”
“Still…” Gretchen muttered.
The male sighed and picked up his child in a clawed hand. “When you’re older, you can do whatever you want now ya hear? But while you're in this house ya gotta focus on what matters.”
“Like cooking, cleaning, and learning your letters,” Griselda added.
“Exactly,” Gordon agreed. “Once you know all those things I’ll teach you how to chop wood, and your mother will show you the best to search for food in the forest.”
“After all that will you show me how to hunt?” Gretchen asked, eyes wide with wonder.
Gordon nodded slowly. “After all that is done then yes. I’ll teach you how to hunt, and fight.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the young griffon triumphantly.
Tom giggled. “That is so cute.”
“I am not cute,” Gretchen declared, the child puffing her cheeks out defiantly.
“Watch your tone,” barked the large griffon. “I will not have you insult my daughter in my own home.”
Tom immediately raised his hands defensively. “My apologies. I didn't know that was an insult.”
Gordon relaxed slowly, his shoulders slumping. “Just don't do it again.”
“In the future, try to avoid describing another griffon as weak, or soft,” Griselda added.
“I will,” Tom declared, pushing himself off the bed and bowing slightly. “You have my sincerest apologies.”
Gordon snorted. “Forget it. Go for a walk and we’ll call it even.”
“I will,” Tom replied.
The griffoness scampered towards the cabin’s exit, his steps awkward and fumbling at first. His mind wanted to walk bipedally while his body disagreed, thankfully his instincts won out. Though his half-second of standing on his back two legs earned him an odd look, they didn't seem overly put off by his antics.
In fact, the only thing he really saw in their eyes was pity, as well as a small bit of disgust. Though that last emotion was really only found in the gaze of Gordon. Now standing outside the cabin, Tom silently cursed himself for not thinking things through.
“Now I look even weirder, great,” Tom murmured to himself. “At least the amnesia explanation should hold up a bit longer.”
He realized at this point that he hadn't asked how to get back to town or even what direction it lay. Thankfully that wasn't exactly difficult to discern, and he could see a narrow pathway leading off to the left. Before he decided to follow it, he first chose to test his leg a bit more, cautiously putting weight on the limb.
Though painful, it wasn't debilitating, and he could at least walk without agony radiating up his side. That was probably due to the strange creme Griselda had used, but at least he had a few hours to walk around pain-free. He intended on doing just that, striding confidently towards the path leading to the small village of Evergreen.
It took about six or so steps before he realized that he was about to explore a fantasy town in another world. One populated by mystical creatures the likes of which no human had ever seen before. Though exciting that sense of wonder was stifled somewhat by the realization that they were probably fairly normal.
Everyone seemed like just another person, only one with talons, wings, and two extra legs. Sure they were a bit more warrior-esque, but there had been human cultures and civilizations with such values. Heck, they felt a bit like Vikings in a way, though that comparison wasn't completely apt for obvious reasons.
As he walked away, Tom noticed that the small family was eagerly chatting with one another. Whatever they were talking about looked serious, and though tempted to listen in, Tom walked on. Putting one limb in front of the other until he left the cottage behind and reentered the forest.
Now surrounded on all sides by verdant nature barely tamed by the griffons of Evergreen, Tom felt relaxed. That relaxation morphed into one of panic when his body realized that it had not used the washroom in its entire existence. A hasty inspection of his surroundings revealed that there was a pile of rotten logs resting in a dry creek bed nearby.
“Damn damn damn,” Tom cursed under his breath.
Squatting awkwardly near the rotten wood, the male turned female got a crash course in his new biology. A minute later he emerged, a blush on his face, and a confused look in his eye. That expression vanished quickly, pushed away by a person who decided not to deal with the thoughts roaming through his head at that moment.
“Right, town,” Tom murmured to himself.
Glancing back to the path, he embarked once more on his quest to find the rest of the village. As he did so, the male found himself struck by the untouched beauty of the forest surrounding him. The griffons had cleared a few trees that were true, but just enough to cut through the thick vegetation.
If they had any moral qualms with cutting a swath through the tangled wood he wasn't sure. What he did know was that their stewardship of the land was well handled, and minimalist. A bit of undergrowth had been cut aside while a few larger trees had been felled for their homes or other constructions.
It was as close to true wilderness as Tom had ever come, and it was utterly enchanting. Some part of him buried by years spent in the city flowered under those massive canopies of green. His wonder was so all-consuming that he barely even noticed his arrival in the village he had been seeking.
It wasn't a surprise that he was shocked though, as the village itself was little more than a cluster of ten homes. Arranged in a semi-circle at the top of a small rise where little grew, the houses themselves were not exactly grandiose. Little more than rather large cabins, they housed a family or two at most, by the looks of it.
The path Tom was walking passed between two of the homes and emerged out the other side in the middle of the village. This clearing sported several work areas that were open to the elements and mostly attached to the front of a home. A primitive blacksmithing shop had been established beneath a simple overhand near the larger of the houses.
Beside that was a general store, though to call it a store was a stretch as it didn't even have a true sign. The only reason Tom even knew it was a store was the fact that a saw and a few other basic tools hung in the window with price tags on them. Aside from that there really weren't any businesses or structures to speak of, only outhouses, and cabins barely visible through the trees.
There were few griffons walking the street, with the majority of which being children and a few females. The griffonessess had gathered near the blacksmith and were chatting about something while their offspring played nearby. These chicks were kicking a can back and forth across the gravel-covered circle at the center of town to great excitement.
Other griffons could be seen working, flying, or carrying goods to and fro. They tended to be male, but there were still a good number of females amongst their ranks. It seemed fairly egalitarian, which made sense considering just how out of the way they were.
Tom’s first urge was to go speak to the blacksmith, though he quickly reminded himself that he had no money. That and this was not a dungeons and dragons game, so the burly male likely didn't have a quest for him. Even if he did, Tom doubted he could complete it, as he was injured, weak, and a bit on the cowardly side.
So he turned towards the females, though once more he stopped himself before getting very far. Standing there near the edge of the clearing, Tom realized, fully realized that he might not be going home again. If he did, then it would only happen when he fell back asleep, something he doubted he could do at the moment.
Sure there was a chance that getting clocked upside the head might work but that wasn't a permanent solution. He’d just wake up back in the human world, exhausted and having slept only a few hours or so. Then when he did finally return to this realm he would have to deal with the fallout of suddenly knocking himself out.
He wondered what would happen if this griffon body died, or if his human one did. It was an odd thought to consider, and Tom soon brushed it aside as unnecessary. He had enough on his plate at this point, and he didn't need to add an existential crisis to that list of things.
“But if this is indeed real, then what should I do?” Tom murmured.
He hadn't really thought about it, as he just assumed he wouldn't return here, yet here he now was. In an alien world, without any kind of support network at the ass-end of nowhere, and without a plan. It was enough to make him want to begin hyperventilating, but thankfully he focused himself on breathing normally.
“One step at a time. I need to get better and hunt a wolf. No big deal,” Tom murmured to himself.
Choosing to direct his mind to something a bit less mentally taxing, Tom began looking around. Gathering information on his surroundings was important, and he started by searching for some kind of notice board. This was found just outside the general store, where a few bounties seemed to have been posted.
Walking over to it, Tom was thankful that he could read what was written on the notices. Whatever god entity had brought his sleeping mind here had evidently given him just enough knowledge to survive. Not enough to thrive, or even know where he was in this strange world, but at least learning to read wasn't on his to-do list.
Looking a little closer, the notices were weathered and sun-bleached, with little actually being legible. There was a bounty advertising five silvers for each wolf head, brought to a nearby town whose name was unreadable. Beneath that one was a sheet of paper proclaiming the glory and honor gained by serving in the army.
The only one that truly stuck out was the flyer that proudly displayed a smiling unicorn pony surrounded by fireworks. Standing atop a stage was what looked like a magician, complete with a fancy star-studded hat, and cape.
“Come one come all, to Trixie’s magic show. Where you will see tricks and spells the likes of which you have never witnessed before,” Tom peered a little closer. “Admittance is either one bit or three silvers. Huh.”
“Wait,” Tom muttered. “If she's a unicorn, and is good at magic then maybe she could send me home. Or at least turn me back into a male.”
Rereading the flyer revealed that the date of the next show was tonight, with one occurring the next day. That seemed to be it though, as the other dates were for other towns with names like Old Hallow and Oakville. There were more listed but Tom didn't bother reading them, his mind immediately forming a primitive plan.
The first step of which was approaching the two elderly females watching the children play. The pair turned to Tom as he approached, appraising him silently.
“I was wondering when the lost little chick would find her way into town,” remarked one of them. “Good to see you up and about.”
“Don't be too open with this one Greta, she's still a stranger. Might even be a spy for some bandit clan,” barked the older of the two.
The first one rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. She looks intimidated by me of all people. Not exactly bandit material don't you think.”
“Still,” muttered the greying old griffon using a cane. “What brings you here, young one?”
“I uh. Was hoping to ask you about that flier I saw,” Tom began.
“The magic show I assume?” offered the younger of the two.
Tom nodded.
“Showed up on the board the other day,” she continued, scratching her chin. “Gribbles said it just flew in all on its own and affixed itself without any help.”
The older one snorted. “Don't see the point really. Ain't no one going to see some fancy pants unicorn put on some show.”
“Might be interesting for the kids,” offered the other female. “They haven't gotten much entertainment.”
“Hmmm. Still,” murmured the older of the two.
“So she hasn't made it into town yet then?” Tom asked.
“Nope. Probably on the road nearby though,” remarked the younger griffon, who scratched her chin with a claw. “Got plenty of rain the other day so the path is pretty muddy. I’ve been tempted to give it a flyover myself but I’m a little busy.”
“Bah,” scoffed the older griffon. “Let the wolves take her. We don't need some pony coming here and taking all our money.”
“Err thanks,” Tom exclaimed, extending a hand. “I’m Tom by the way.”
“Funny name, stranger,” remarked the younger who shook the offered claw firmly. “Definitely not from around these parts.”
“Sounds more like a minotaur name,” added her companion.
“Anyway,” exclaimed the younger kid watcher. “I’m Goldy, and this is Glitz.”
Glitz snorted. “You can just call me ma’am.”
“Err right,” Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you for the information. I’m going to go see if I can't find this Trixie pony.”
“Good luck,” Goldy offered.
Tom smiled, giving the griffon a nod before turning and walking away.
“Right,” he murmured to himself once out of earshot of the others. “Step one is done.”