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// Little Pale Hood 
// Story: New Pony Tales 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
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	Once upon a time, in the forest of a mountain valley on the border of a veldt, there lived a griffiness. She was a Booted eagle griffin, and as in the world most familiar to readers, was the lowest ranked of the clans. Her names were traditional, with the middle matronymic and O'Booted at the end. However, to all she was known as Little Pale Hood, even after she had attained majority. As with all Booteds she was small, and her coloration was notably more pale than the standard.
Even being a low-ranked clan the Booteds all knew the ways of their world and held to them. They were encouraged to marry up to improve their holding, and were meant to have nothing to do with zebras. Just as with the known world there was a kind of cool enmity between the griffins and the zebras, for reasons of poaching on zebra lands when permits were available for modest fees and the tariffs were quite low.
Little Pale Hood lived in a modest cabin with her mother and father, while her mother's parents lived not far away in another cabin. However, after the death of Little Pale Hood's grandfather her grandmother decided to move deeper into the woods, to a smaller home, for she was still spry and active. Since that move Little Pale Hood had never gone to see her but her parents had.
After her majority, however, it was thought she was ready to make the journey during an appropriate time. That came when a letter arrived for them via a courier saying that Little Pale Hood's grandmother was feeling sickly and needed some traditional medicine made of herbs she lacked as well as some extra supplies and treats she missed. Small things, primarily. It seemed the right time for her to make the journey.
Her mother packed a large wicker basked with all the needed items and informed her of all the things she would need to remember. “You may be of griffin stock, and we O'Booted may be among the most talented and crafty hunters of all the clans, in these woods, but there are still dangers, my daughter. Monsters can stalk the trees. And beware any zebras from off the veldt. They are an intractable group and will try to deceive you. Pass them by and do not let them twist your mind around.”
“I understand, mother. I know how things work. I will be cautious on my way to grandmother's house,” Little Pale Hood replied, nodding to her mother and setting off with her basket of goods. She could not fly there, as the trees were thick and tall, and it was easy to get lost in the air. She would need to walk the woods and carefully mind the paths.
She had not been walking the woods for very long before she was forced to stop. Before her was a zebra. He was a grand stallion, more than a head taller than her, heavy with muscle and boldly striped. His mane was swept to the side, tied in numerous thick and tight braids held closed with colorful bands. His neck was stacked with gold, as was his front right leg. On his back was a sturdy pack which was hung with cloth pouches. “Little Pale Hood, my friend, where are you off to today?” His voice was heavy and mirthful, a smile on his face.
“Memkutu, I cannot talk to you now. I have reached majority, no longer a child who can ignore our ways,” Little Pale Hood said. She had known Memkutu all her life, had grown up with him. He was an herbalist who gathered plants in the woods. As a child she had not cared about the ways of griffins. As an adult she could no longer be so cavalier. “I am bringing medicine and supplies to my grandmother, my first trip through the woods.”
“Do you want one of my potions for her? I can make one quickly,” Memkutu asked.
“I have traditional medicine for her, and must hurry. Please let me go by, Memkutu. I cannot stop with you,” Little Pale Hood replied.
“Very well. I know those deep woods, as I find fungi and roots and all manner of medicinal herbs there. There will be two paths you can use, on the left and on the right. Take the right path and you will be where you need to be directly,” Memkutu said, returning to rooting around in the undergrowth. “Be well, Little Pale Hood.”
“And you as well,” Little Pale hood replied, pushing on through the woods.
She did not go far before she came across another. Oddly, it was a Bald, looking regal and preened, as well as very mature, reaching past middle age. Their kind almost never left the high aeries. He looked like a lesser thane, with his long and trailing brown cloak known as a brat, his talons festooned with rings. “Good morrow, young Booted. What brings you to this dark wood?”
Little Pale Hood bowed, as was proper when meeting a member of a higher-ranked clan. “Good morrow, great Bald. I am here to deliver medicine and supplies to my grandmother deep in the wood.”
“What of your grandfather?” The Bald asked.
“He is dead now, and she was his only hen,” Little Pale Hood answered.
“As it is so often with Booteds,” the Bald mused. He nodded to her. “Be on your way then. There will come a choice of paths before you. Take the left path.”
“I shall,” Little pale Hood said. She remembered that Memkutu had said to stay right. But she knew that Balds knew best. “What are you doing in these woods, if I may know, sir?”
“I am a Bald. It is my right to be where I desire,” He said with a haughty huff. “Go, be off.”
“I apologize. Forgive my insolence. I will go then,” Little Pale Hood said, quietly, sliding away in a bow.
As both Memkutu and the noble had told her she eventually came to two paths, both leading into dark passages of looming trees that looked equally intimidating. She thought of going right, but kept in mind the admonition all griffins had to remember, that zebras were not to be trusted. She was not a child any longer. She obeyed the Bald, as griffins did, and took the path on the left.
The Bald snuck through the right path. While his path was straight and clear, Little Pale Hood's path wound and meandered, passing brambles and nettles and other interrupting miseries.
The Bald reached the cabin of the grandmother and boldly entered. A single hen would easily fall to his rank and age, which meant stability. He would take the widow for his flock and her granddaughter as well, he only needed her cooperation. She, however, did not give it. She was a practical bird and knew better. So the angry Bald bound her and threw her under the bed, disguising himself and getting into her bed.
Little Pale Hood finally arrived, finding the door slightly ajar. “Mam-gu? Grandmother? Are you here?” She slipped into the cabin and looked around.
“Here I am, dear,” came the voice of the Bald, affecting a falsetto while laying in the darkened bedroom under covers.
“Oh my, you must be sick. You sound terrible,” Little Pale Hood said, moving into the darkness of the cabin. “Why is it so dark in here?”
“The light was... hurting my eyes,” The Bald said, pulling the covers up higher. “Come closer. Let me see you.”
“Mam-gu... what large pupils you have...” Little Pale Hood said.
“All the better to take you in with, my dear...” The Bald replied.
“And mam-gu, what a large shape you make in the bed...” Little Red Hood said, halting her approach.
“The better to survive and provide, my dear,” The Bald said, clutching the covers so tightly he pierced them.
“Mam-gu... what... large talons you have...” Little Pale Hood said with some concern. Those were not the talons of a Booted.
“The better to hold you with, my dear!” The Bald leaped from the bed and reached out for Little Pale Hood, his talons grasping air only thanks to her quick hunter's reflexes. “Come along, little Booted. Your kind always wishes to marry a higher clan. You can be my fifth hen.”
“You are so old! And I don't know you!” Little Red Hood screeched, dodging and twisting about, trying to use her speed against the Bald's brutish strength.
“What do you need to know other than I am wealthy? My age does not stop me from making eggs with you. And you may have eggs for many years before I use you up!” The Bald called, a feint finally getting Little Pale Hood trapped in a corner. “Marry me! Immediately. You will have little choice, for I am rich and powerful.”
“No! Never! I would rather die!” Little Pale Hood lashed out and scratched at the Bald's face, leaving shallow furrows on his beak and a bleeding line on his cheek.
“That can be arranged. Nobird would miss a nothing of a Bootie,” The Bald said, looming threateningly over Little Pale Hood.
“But I would!” Memkutu shouted, throwing himself through the front door and rushing at the Bald.
“Impudent and insolent ze-!” The Bald's angry shout was completely silenced by a single mighty hoof-strike from Memkutu, which dropped him and knocked him out cold.
“M-memkutu...” Little Pale Hood chirped, still huddling in the corner before the fallen body of the Bald.
“I came after you because I knew there was something wrong. I was afraid for you when I heard you speaking with that Bald and knew he sent you down the wrong way,” Memkutu said, offering Little Pale Hood a hoof to lift her up.
Little Pale Hood not only rose up but she rushed forward and grabbed tightly onto Memkutu. “You have always been there...”
Memkutu returned the hug but motioned towards the bed a moment later. “Your grandmother needs you now. I will... go now.”
“Stay!” Little Pale Hood shouted, firmly, as she carefully brought her grandmother's swooned form out from under the bed. “You deserve to be here. I don't care what I am expected to think. You should help me here, and come home with me.”
After throwing the bald into the deep woods and bringing Little Pale Hood's grandmother out of her faint the two offered her a zebra remedy, which seemed to warm the old hen towards Memkutu even more than his bold besting of the unpleasant Bald.
The two walked back to Little Pale Hood's home that night, together, and they did not part. They were wed by a very understanding old Booted and lived happily ever after.