//------------------------------// // Small Beginnings // Story: Where The Heart Lies // by Broman //------------------------------// A day of mourning came over the entire camp. The gryphons on both sides cried out in anguish and vengeance as they buried their dead. At least fifteen gryphons, ten Nomads and five Nobles, were buried side by side near the edge of camp. The rest of the hunting parties remained wounded and some in critical condition. They stayed alive, however, due to the quick thinking of the garrison and the efforts the Arch Gryphon Felix. Quicksilver was just glad the ordeal was finally over. He watched from the side of the cooking tent as he watched dozens of gryphons mingle about the camp with their food. Their morale had been diminished somewhat from the slaughter of their brethren. Some gave out out harsh rebukes against those that had did this, but the majority remained silent, as if they had seen enough death already. They then silently went to their tents and remained there. They all had much to think about since today. Quicksilver finished his bowl of soup and set it to the side. His body ached from helping with the wounded, and he had dry blood stains on his coat. He tried to remove the bloody smears with the snow on the ground, but that did little to ease the stains on him. He then decided, since there was nothing left to do, to head toward his tent and earn a good night's rest. As he did so, he overheard the conversations by the surrounding gryphons. “Have you heard that it could be the cloven ones?” “You mean the warband? Yeah, they are moving about down below the mountain path.” “I heard the hunting parties didn’t stand a chance.They were ambushed on all sides.” “How is the General taking this all in?” They didn’t hide their emotion, nor did they care if Quicksilver was nearby. They were all on edge by this brutal attack, and they had many things on their hearts and minds. This was something that was almost too much to bear. As Quicksilver moved down the beaten path, he heard the rabble of the gryphons begin to disperse, and only the cold silence surrounded him. His silent guard, Warden, hadn’t appeared by his side, and he was alone as he walked through the sea of tents. He didn't mind this, though he did miss having his one sided conversation partner with him though. He could listen to the chatter back in the center of the camp, but it would just be the same things he’d just heard. As he continued down the path, he soon heard voices that he began to recognize. The grating deep voice of the general was nearby, and from the sound of things, Ebon was speaking to him as well. “Uncle, what are we to do? We can’t keeping spreading these falsehoods with the Nomads. They are likely to catch on sooner than later,” Ebon said, worry in his voice. “Don’t get your feathers in a tussle, my nephew. If that pompous Colonel got any whiff of this, then he would turn the entire Nomads on us, and I would rather avoid shedding our own blood,” General Quill said, his voice rumbling low as he tried to reassure his nephew. “We outnumber them by three to one. They can easily be taken care of, if the need arises.” “But you forget, Ebon. They are Nomads. They are not honorable by any means. They would cut us down in the night before they even lost one of their own.” Quicksilver stopped in his walk and hung next to the side of a tent. He peeked around the corner, seeing the two chat in an undisclosed location. There were no other gryphons, save the two of them. He could see the uneasiness in Ebon’s expression as the General remained calm, though Quicksilver could also see a small hint of concern on his face. Ebon looked about the area, not wanting to having anyone eavesdrop on their conversation. Luckily, they did not spot Quicksilver. “Uncle, I don’t mean to impose on anything, but what if you say is true, then think of the implications back at Gryphonstone. Could it mean that things will turn south soon if King Bronzeclaw continues to run his reign into the ground?” “The feeling is mutual. He keeps striking against the Noble houses for not providing enough troops on the battlefield, and he doesn't even consider the fact that we lost Prance. The Marquess houses and Noble courts are seceding from his rule and siding with the opposition. To top it all off, we have pockets of forces scattered about the land, and we don’t even know the extent of how many survived. I gave strict orders for them to evacuate the city, and yet they have not done so. I fear there might be other forces at work that have delayed their evacuation, and my suspicion points directly to the king himself,” General Quill explained. Ebon said nothing, remaining in deep thought. Were they suppose to leave? I thought they fought to the last, stripping the city of all of it’s worth. This… this changes things, Quicksilver thought. When they entered the city, the gryphons showed no signs of retreat and offered no terms of surrender. They had fought and died for every street and every house, never giving in. What the General said had caused new interest within Quicksilver into what had happened at Prancy. Although, with this new discovery, it had explained some questions that lingered in his mind. Particularly in that the gryphons were not ordered to stay and defile the city; instead, they were meant to leave it. “We must going. It’s late, and I don’t want any eavesdroppers,” Ebon said as he escorted his uncle back. General Quill followed, but paused and placed a claw onto Ebon’s shoulder. “Ebon, I’m grateful for your understanding in this matter,” he said, his low rumbling voice still carrying on. He paused, looking off to the side for a moment in Quicksilver’s direction. Quicksilver could have sworn the General was staring at him, but if he had, he showed no acknowledgement of him. Instead, he turned back to Ebon and sighed deeply. “I don’t know what will happen if word gets out. My only wish is that things will go smoothly for us if the king continues to take himself down,” he said. Ebon nodded. “We can only hope, Uncle. We can only hope,” he replied as the two took their conversation elsewhere. “I hope so too, my nephew. I only pray that my Red Tails is still alive after-” General’s Quill's voice cut out as the two disappeared behind the sea of tents, their voices begin to intermingle with the remnants of the gryphons nearby. Quicksilver began to wonder what had transpired. Who does he mean by ‘Red Tails? he thought. More importantly, he was curious as to what is happening inside Gryphonstone.To what extent did the mad Bronzeclaw do to upset the inner gryphon councils and their magistrates? Did all the gryphons feel the same way, or was this going to spread into a civil war? The possibilities were endless, but each implication surely had much repercussions. If the war was bad at home, then this ‘opposition’ would surely be a great threat to the tyrant king. Maybe, just maybe, it could end this war all together. Quicksilver, taking these thoughts to heart, proceeded up the hill back to the tent. His hooves crunched in the snow as he made his way up. As he went on, he noticed snow coming down from above them. He gave a glance up, seeing the flakes of snow descending down onto the camp. Winter was getting colder, and his body shivered as he continued to trudge up the hill. He wondered if the winter storms may even trap them in this cave. He soon reached the top and went inside the tent. The whole tent felt frozen, just the same as the outside. No matter how warm he would get by the bonfires outside, it always seemed colder as the days went by. He crawled inside his thin blanket, which did little to combat the cold. He tightened himself into a ball, hoping to get as much warmth as possible. As he tried to stay warm, he remembered the stone the thestral colt gave him. Looking underneath the sheet, he spotted the stone near his side. He picked it up and inspected the small rock. It still had the same image of the crescent moon and the slitted eye. Night Friend, he thought, remembering the Prench words the little colt had said. He still didn’t understand what he meant by it. Could it be that the Thestrals considered him a friend, or did they respect him for saving their child? Whatever the case may be, he would need to get answers from them as soon as possible; they might be his allies as they remained in this encampment. As he thought of the possibilities, he rubbed the stone with his other hoof without thinking. Suddenly, he felt a sudden jolt from his hoof. Looking down, he saw a small cut on the flat surface of his hoof and a little blood along the edge of the stone’s tip. Bloody thing is sharp, he thought to himself. He observed the stone again with new interest. If it was sharpened even more, than the stone could easily pierce flesh. He didn’t have long to study it before he could hear the shuffling of snow outside his tent. He quickly hid the stone behind him and settled himself back in his blanket. Gretchen entered just as he rested his head on the stone floor. He shivered from the contact, but he bore through it as Gretchen went over to her pile of hay. He watched as she settled herself into her makeshift bed, likely wanting to sleep the night away from what had transpired hours earlier. He remained where he was as she rested her head onto the hay, her front legs stretching out before folding underneath her body. She remained like that for a moment, not responding to him as before. He did observe, however, that she was eerily quiet. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t want to talk to him, or if she was simply too tired from the day’s events. Whatever the case was, he was sure it was best to keep silent. As he began to rest his eyes, however, he noticed the hen stir in her bed. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice faint yet sorrowful. Quicksilver’s ears perked up, and he turned in surprise to the hen. Her face showed grief, but there also seemed to be remorse in her voice as well. He didn’t know exactly what she was planning, but he had to respond to her apology. “What?” was all he could utter out as his mind continued to process her words. Gretchen eyed him for a moment, her gaze remaining ever the same. She showed no other emotion, no stalwart feeling of authority over him. Noticing the silence in the air, she took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m apologizing for my behavior the other night. I was out of order and filled with hatred. I…” she paused, turning her head away as if ashamed. “Please, just accept it so that I may sleep the rest the night away.” Quicksilver narrowed his eyes at her and his mouth began to form a small frown. “I’ll only accept it if you tell me what has been bothering you,” he said. Short and simple, but clear in intentions. Gretchen looked at him, her eyes flaring and her face contorting in resentment towards him. She didn’t say anything right away, only staring down at him with those golden eyes. He knew he was in the right with this, but one wrong slip-up and she may hate him for it for who knows how long. But he took the risk. He needed answers, and she was his only source for getting them. After a minute of uneasy silence, Gretchen breathed heavily and let out a tired sigh. Her face turned away from him, and she faced the other way. Quicksilver’s ears flattened. He had likely overstepped his bounds and now would no longer speak with him. Seeing his defeat, he lowered his head back down to cold ground. “Things are more complicated then you know, Fletchling,” she said, not looking at his direction. Quicksilver looked back at her. “Things are not going well back at home,” she continued, her voice sounding the same, though with a hint of irritation. “Remember how I said that I should not reveal anything personal? Well, it involves that, particularly with what’s been happening at Gryphonstone.” Yet another confirmation of what he had learned a little bit ago from General Quill. But Quicksilver didn’t raise his voice to speak on the matter and allowed her to continue. “Things are going more south there than when birds leave in winter,” she said, continuing to stare at the same spot as before. “The king is going mad. His obsession with power and his will to dominate the classes and magistrates have been unsettling the Nobles, Arch Gryphons, and the few Nomads that see reason. He is driving a wedge between the tribes and is increasingly hostile as the days go by. The Battle of Prancy was the last straw, and he’s been calling for new generals and new leadership within the military and our high councils. He’s done this throughout the years whenever his generals fail him miserably. But now, he condemns any that would disobey direct orders, even silencing those that were once loyal to him. It was almost uncommon to see him commit heinous actions against his citizens in the past. Or at least, with any small disputes. “In the years since the war started, however, his brutality and viciousness has been more frequent and more public, and that has only united many in our country against him.” She paused to take a breath. Quicksilver had noticed that she had not revealed what was bothering her, but he knew he had to be patient if she was to reveal it. “He attacks those who speak against him, cuts off claws for those that ignored him, and even flays those he believes to be traitors. He even flayed a child once, just for getting in his path... An innocent child that got in a tyrant’s way.” She said this as if she could hardly believe it. Quicksilver shuddered at the last thought. How mad is this Bronzeclaw? he thought as Gretchen turned to him, her expression unchanged. “You asked what was bothering me, fletchling,” she said softly, her eyes fixated on him. He leaned forward; the very thing he wanted to hear was within a moment’s grasp, and he had to hear it. “I know it’s not much, and I know we are far away from the capital. But even then I… I still don’t feel safe.” Then, in a quiet voice, she said: “It’s Pride.” Quicksilver cocked his head at her. “Though I know I can handle myself, I still feel that a darkness has risen in this camp. I’ve began to see it in some of the Nomads. I can even see it in a few of our own Nobles. Worse still, I think pride has consumed the Mad King. His greed for power, his will on others... it’s tearing the gryphons tribes apart, and it shows here among the camp. The most loyalist of followers will do anything for Bronzeclaw and will ensure victory at any cost, no matter how high. Worst of all. I…” she paused, her voice betraying her. Quicksilver stared at her and listened in complete candor. Taking a steady, yet almost nervous breath, she said, “I fear for the safety of my uncle. He and my brother are the only real family I have left.” Quicksilver remained silent as her words hung in the air. Many questions filled his mind, and he couldn’t comprehend the weight of her testimony. The things she had spoken had confirmed the words that General Quill and Ebon had spoken. But now, hearing it from her own mouth, only assured him that a possible civil war would be breaking out in the center of Gryphonstone. But as fleeting as to that possibility may be, his real concerns were still within the encampment, and what the mad colonel Sharp Beak would do to him or to the Royal gryphons. Quicksilver looked at Gretchen long and hard, contemplating her words. What really unsettled him was how Gretchen seemed more concerned for her uncle. What could he do to upset the inner Nomads to such an extent? What could possibly drive them to such anger and stir their hearts into hatred against their own kin? A few of the young bloods he had witnessed would not be like the others, but the older, more aggressive Nomads would no doubt bring harm to the Royal Gryphons if they didn’t get their way. Colonel Sharp Beak would be the top dog that would instigate the others into fighting. If they did anything to harm or kill his adversaries, then it would be through him or by the orders of the mad king. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Gretchen soon gave a tired sigh and rested her head back onto the the hay. “I’m tired. You should rest, Fletchling. Save your strength as much as you can muster,” she said casually, her voice returning somewhat to normal. Quicksilver remained silent, only nodding to her in approval before resting his head back on the cold ground. He shivered slightly, and he curled as tight as he could to stay warm. Gretchen, taking notice, only shook her head. “I know the same feeling. It’s only going to grow colder as the days go by,” she said, her breath visible to the naked eye. “Another thing, Fletchling: Our supplies are starting to run low. Provisions will have to be dispersed, which means food would mean little in the coming days.” I hope this means I can still get soup, Quicksilver thought to himself as he continued to warm himself under his thin blanket. “Oh, and another thing...” Gretchen added. “With the cold brewing and our supplies tightening, I fear there will be things that will be unpleasant for the both of us.” With that, she turned herself for the night. Quicksilver slowly turned his head toward her, his brows lifting to the highest extent. “What do you mean, ‘for both of us?’” he asked. Gretchen stirred and looked at him with a half laden eye. “Trust me, it will be a lot worse for me then it will be for you. Now sleep,” she said coldly, and promptly did. Quicksilver remained where he was, unsure if he should say something else or leave the matter at hoof. He chose the latter of the two and quickly went to sleep, believing he had enough on his mind for one night. The last thing he wanted to know was what the hen had in mind. *** “We’ve made good progress so far,” Strong Oak said as he observed the lands around him. Silverwing nodded as she cast her gaze about. They have been lucky for the whole day, with the snow being light and the travel was not as much an encumbrance as the days prior. The snow- laden paths had melted from the early morning sun, allowing them to easily travel at least thirty miles. But that was only reprieve they would receive. “We made good progress, yes, but we still have many more miles to go. If the weather holds like this, we will be there in ten days. However, the weather will no doubt hinder our progress back to two weeks if it persists again,” Shadow Hunter replied from her other side. The old veteran would know the land more than she could, and his advice would be needed in the coming days. “You said it was mostly plains, Shadow. Is there anything else out here that you can share with us?” Silverwing asked. Shadow Hunter turned to her gaze. “Yes. As I said the other day, there are small villages throughout the countryside. Most, as far as I heard, have been abandoned due to the war. However, we may come across a village or two that are still surviving. We Prench tend to tough it out during the long winters. I’m certain that they would survive, even way out here,” he said with hopeful optimism. “Yes, that might be a possibility,” Strong Oak replied. “But what if the warbands have gotten to them? What if they were attacked like the Diamond Dogs in the pass?” “I’m certain that they would have made precautions. The Prench out in the plains are more stubborn than the ones in the cities,” he explained. “Still, we best seek aid from the villages if possible. You can never be over cautious in seeking aid, even during treacherous times,” Strong Oak said. Shadow Hunter turned to him aghast. “You’re suggesting we ask the villages to give us what little food they have? They’ve had enough trouble trying not to starve from the winter,” he said a little harshly. The cervine turned his gaze and tilted his head, in an almost delicate manner. “Was it a suggestion? It is merely an option,” Strong Oak replied, before turning his gaze back to the plains. “I think we know clearly as to what we may face out there if we continue on unprepared. If we are hindered by the next storm, and forced to hunker down until it passes over us, then we would run through our supplies more quickly than we should.” “But taking away from the needy just to satisfy our own provisions? I would not degrade myself into such actions, not even if our plight was dire,” Shadow Hunter said, his voice rising a little. He took a step forward and stood in front of the cervine leader. Silverwing quickly intervened and stood in front of them, pushing her wings out to block both of them. “Stop this, both of you. I will not have infighting amongst us. If that crossroad ever comes, then we will decide what to do then,” Silverwing said, her voice soothing and calm. She eyed them both, hoping that they would take her viewpoint. Shadow Hunter, taking a reluctant sigh, was the first to back away. “My apologizes, Captain Silverwing. I was only speaking my mind,” he said, bowing low to her. Strong Oak, still held back by her wings, also gave a humble bow. “I too shall express regret for the words that I have spoken. I was only considering the possibilities for our journey. This is a war that’s not ending anytime soon, so all options are on the table. We must consider each one with careful deliberation if our path is to be a suitable course.” Strong explained. Silverwing nodded. “I’m certain we can discuss this at another time. Right now, the others need their rest. Tell them to make camp here,” she ordered. The two obliged and began to head to the soldiers. “A moment please,” she said, causing both to turn back to her. “When morning comes, I want both of you to send out some scouts. Find anything between us and our encampment. I want to leave as soon as we know it’s safe.” Both nodded in agreement. “You can count on my soldiers, Captain. I’ll go seek out volunteers immediately,” Shadow Hunter replied. The old veteran turned back and headed off to speak with the company. Strong Oak, on the other hoof, remained where he was, observing Silverwing with a questioning gaze. When Shadow Hunter was out of earshot, Strong Oak approached her and spoke in a low tone. “Something worries you, Silverwing,” he said. Silverwing stared at him in surprise. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not worried at all,” she said, trying to compose herself. Strong Oak remained unconvinced. “There is a hesitation in your voice. Clearly, you are troubled,” he said. Silverwing lowered hers ears and tried to look away, trying to stir the conversation on another path. “Strong Oak, there is nothing wrong. I’m fine. So please, let us get to camp and-” “You worry of what’s out there, don’t you?” The cervine’s perspective cut through her core. She didn’t want to admit it or even physically show it, but she was feeling on edge for the whole day. Since her discussion with the Diamond Dog Brutus, she had been on edge of what lied out there on the plains. Her mind was focused on what enemy they had to face, on what creature that could be larger and stronger then them. Brutus had also mentioned that they were stronger than the Taur, a term based on the minotaurs of Tartarus. The thought alone scared her beyond reckoning. It has been eating at her for the whole day, the mere thought that these marauders, these beasts, could be treacherous and even deadly enough to prove fatal for her company of hardened troops. The constant worry for them all started from the massacre days earlier, and the testimony by Brutus made her mind frantic with unease. And then there was the last term he used, the Horned King. She really didn’t want to concede anything, but the mere thought of what was out there made her nervous as the days go by. Strong Oak, seeing the silence hang between them, took another step forward and placed hoof onto her shoulder. She shuddered from the contact, but slowly and surely looked up to meet his gaze. She stared up into his green eyes, an understanding filled within them. A caring smile came upon on his countenance. “You are strong, Lady Silverwing,” he said in a calm and soothing voice. It was welcoming and she felt it as clear as the shroud of doubt and darkness that wrapped around her mind. “You are the center that holds this company together. You are the one who keeps us afloat among the sea of apprehension. You know that if you try to do things your way and stand alone, you are the single source of light in the darkness.” He lowered his hoof and looked back at the forming camp. Silverwing followed his gaze, watching the inhabitants settle themselves for the night. She watched as the guards readied the food, the militia set up the tents and the Cervine helped in between, doing whatever they can to help speed the process. Silverwing watched this all take place, not noticing Strong Oak turning to her with a knowing gaze. “But you're not alone,” he continued, causing her to turn to him in surprise. “You are here, but you have others as well. When you think that you can’t handle all of this responsibility, know that others are here to help. A single tree may be blown down by a torrent wind, but a forest can outlast the strongest of storms.” Silverwing nodded, taking it to heart. He was right, of course: She was not alone in this endeavor, and she would need their support in the coming days. She had to keep focus, and ensure that she remained vigilant. She couldn’t allow these fears to get the best of her. “Thank you, Strong Oak. I guess I was… distracted of late. I won’t let it happen again,” she said. Strong Oak nodded in confirmation. “We are allies, Silverwing. We are supposed to look out for one another,” he said, giving a low bow before heading into the now-formed camp. Silverwing soon followed. As was expected from her company, they had finished with the camp and already began serving the late dinner. She watched as both ponies and cervine mingled together and ate respectively. She watched as they chatted and spoke of many things; some simple, others complex. Some talked about their families at home, and the rest talked about their futures. It was a wondrous sight, to see that they had all come this far and worked together to ensure that they all made it through. However, she did see a few concerned faces, some of which she already knew. A few of guards were silent during the small festivities, languishing around the smallest fire. Anvil, Heavy Blitz and Crimson Wing all sat about the fire and ate their meal in utter silence. They stood away from the farthest group of soldiers and each one did not speak to one another or even acknowledge the their passing comrades. Silverwing’s ears flattened, for she already knew the reason to their suppressed voices. “Silverwing?” she heard a feminine voice call to her. She turned and saw Swift Leaf and Cottontail standing before her. Both had the look of tired expression and their long hairs on their head were ruffled and unkempt. “Yes? Is there something amiss?” she asked. Swift Leaf shook her head. “No, Lady Silverwing. We just came to report that Hammer is secured in your tent as you instructed,” she said, giving a soft smile. “We also just changed his bandages and cleaned his wound. The healing process has come a long way for the young Hammer.” She wiped away a lock of mane from her face. “Though he still has a ways to go, I’m sure he will make a full recovery.” “And what of Hammer? Is he awake?” Silverwing said, a small hope building within her. Cottontail shook her head, her golden locks bouncing from side to side ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. He has not awaken from his slumber.” Silverwing looked to the side with a downed expression. Seeing this, Cottontail approached her and added, “He is strong, Lady Silverwing. The healing has taken its course, but it is his own strength that will pull him through this. You’ll see.” She gave a reassuring smile. Silverwing smiled slightly back, before allowing it to droop again. “I believe it’s best that you check in on him,” Swift Leaf said, pointing a hoof in the direction of her tent. Silverwing followed, seeing her tent in the center of camp. She turned back to the two cervines, quickly thanking them as the two departed for their companions. Silverwing headed over toward her tent, knowing all too well what laid inside. She soon was at the front entrance, ready to walk in. But she stopped short from reaching the tent entrance. A strange sensation had clung to her chest, and she felt it beat faster within her. It was an all too familiar a feeling. Steeling her nerve, she forced herself to move inside. The tent had very few things in place. There was nothing glamorous as they had in the war councils on the battlefield. Those tents would have large tables, with the map of the land on its front. Chairs would line around, filled with generals and captains that come from all corners of Equestria. They were all glittered with authority and had much bravado that one would expect of them, although few fought on the mainlines with their fellow ponies. She herself had been in one or two of these meetings and met with these same generals and leaders of companies of equine chivalry and might. But she could also sense that a few among them were all talk and little action. They lacked the will to bring the fight. Some even lacked in seizing the initiative and being aggressively active. Those in particular that reeked of cowardice were only useful in the back of the lines, though they still wooed the civilians to their so called bravery. But she was far away from one of their fancy and lively meetings now. Instead, she was in a bare tent, with nothing more than two newly-spread bedrolls, one thick blanket and two pillows. The place was barren yet simple, just as the snow outside on the frozen plains. However, there was at least one occupant that was inside with her. The one that filled one of the bed rolls and had the entire blanket wrapped tightly around a single earth pony stallion. Hammer, she thought to herself as he watched her guard sleep in silence. His breathing was at a normal rate, the blanket moving up and down from his chest. He had remained like that ever since the surgery four days ago, nearly five now. Throughout that time, he had not stirred. For all this war cared, he could be another casualty. But even if that was true, Silverwing still believed that he could pull through this. Silverwing moved to his side, spotting the small bowl of water and rag nearby. She settled herself down and stood by his side. She looked at Hammer, as the many times she had spent with him. Regardless of his wound he still remained ever the same, with small textures and smooth edges on his muzzle and chin and his body still remaining toned and ready for active duty, a small testament to his years of training, despite the horrors that he faced in this war. Every time she looked at him, she could see the innocent side of him, peacefully unaware of the war going on around them. It was a peace that very few ever dreamed of. Taking a steady breath, she removed the blanket and examined the wound on his left shoulder. True to the Cervine’s words, the wound had been bandaged with fresh cloth. She wondered how well the wound had sealed up and how much time it needed to do so. There was no doubt in her mind it would leave a lasting scar, but that was worth it if he would awake from this. She put the warm blanket back over him and grabbed the wet cloth from the bowl. Rinsing out the water, she casually pressed the cloth over his face, cleaning off any dirt and sweat that had accumulated over him. She had done this several times before, for she did not mind doing it. In fact, it allowed her mind to wander as she did the task. This happened a few times as she cared for him. At times, she thought of the state of her company and how they could survive the coming storms. Other times, she thought of her brother and how he was being treated by the griffons. She worried at times that he would be near death, only for his captors to deny him that fate. It tormented her to no end at what they were currently doing to him, and she even suffered through a few sleepless nights. She had to hide it from the others, just to ensure they wouldn’t have too much concern over her. But then there were the times that she thought of Hammer. Though she dared not think it at times, her thoughts and sometimes her dreams showed these fantasies between them. She tried to keep it down, ignoring the desires while still imagining the possibilities. A place where there was no war, a place that there was no fighting, and a land that was filled with peace. Along with something more precious, something more beautiful and more filling in life than anything that can possibly be imagined. A family, growing and prospering on their farmsteads, and a husband by her- She shuddered at the thought and retracted her hoof away from Hammer’s side. She looked down at him, seeing his face cleaned of any debris and dirt. Her breath came out shaky, and she didn’t realize that she was now sweating, if only slightly. She didn’t know how long she stood by his side, but Silverwing knew it was already too long. She had her company to keep track of, her guards to be kept in shape, and a quest to fulfill. “I’m sorry, Hammer. I have to go now,” she said softly, setting aside the rag in the bowl and standing back up. She paused, a nagging feeling crawling into the back of her mind. She kept looking at him, as if a spell had made claim over her body and soul. She didn’t know what compelled her, but she began to lean toward him. Her mind felt abuzz, scrabbling for answer as she neared him. She felt wrong for doing this, but at the same time, it was necessary and right. No. It felt right. It can be quick, she thought to herself, her faces near inches from his. It’s just… an innocent… an innocent… Her mind went flat as her face drew above his forehead. Her lips touched his brow, right above his eyes. She kept herself there, holding this little moment for what felt like hours. Then, as if a spell had lifted off of her, she withdrew and looked back down at the sleeping stallion. Her eyes were half lidded as she stared at him, and her heart felt a flutter inside her chest. She lowered once more, but instead of kissing his brow, she lowered her forehead with his. She kept her head on his, her silver hair draping over his blue mane. She nuzzled for a moment, allowing herself to indulge herself with this feeling, this wonderful feeling that has stirred inside of her. When she had her fill, she backed herself away and began to head for the tent entrance. Maybe… someday, we can try and be… She barely opened the tent entrance when she heard a small gasp escape behind her. Her heart stopped, and she turned with hope in her heart. Hammer.