The newcomer laughed, silhouetted by a roaring bonfire sitting on a sled behind her. “Is that how you greet a new friend? Here, let me help you start over. My name is Septima. Yours?”
Gilda looked up with a glare as Septima pushed back her hood slightly with black tinted talons, then held one out to shake. She was an owl-descended griffon, and a down of pepper grey that almost disappeared into the blizzard.
Gilda's furious golden irises met Septima’s barely repressed gleeful purple. “You know who I am and why I'm here.”
Septima sighed in mock disappointment, dropping her talon. “Alright, if you want to start that way,” she said. “So, how was your trip?”
Glare.
“I’ll start off.” Septima pulled out some branches and tossed it into the bonfire behind her. “Keeping the flame lit was a tough job, you know? Had to gather enough fuel across this desert so it’ll actually shine bright enough.”
She winked. “Kept me warm too.”
Glare
“Let me tell you, climbing up a mountain? Hard. Climbing up a mountain while dragging a overweight sled filled with logs? The worst. Couldn’t just sit around and complain though, so I pushed on. Glad to see you here, freezing to death is not the most pleasant ways to go.
“So how was the trip? I heard some howling from up here, I hope the weather wasn't as bad as the one I had to push through.”
Gilda’s talon dug into the snow. “Oh I don’t know, considering RAINBOW DIED!” she shrieked, her free arm squeezing the pony’s body.
Septima winced. Gilda didn’t believe it. “Oh, that is pretty bad.”
“Why? Gilda asked. She snarled at the griffon. “Everytime, you’re never on time!”
Septima stared blankly back. She turned back to the bonfire cart, unstrapped a log, and dropped it into the flames. She faced the flames, listening the Gilda seeth, before turning around, an inscrutable shadow wreathed by flames. “Destiny guides her, chains her. I was strongly advised that this was the only way to survive.”
She sighed, and said, “Its not my usual way in life, but I didn’t have much of a choice.” She gestured at Gilda. “I’m sure you felt the same. Not your first Journey, yet you always climb silently to meet amnesiatic me. And now you’re at the end of this cycle. Are you willing to go again?”
Septima waited as Gilda stared into the snow. With raspy breath, she whispered, “Always.”
“Many thanks,” Septima drawled, biting the tip of a claw, drawing blood. She slapped it against the ground, and dragged a bright red line to the blazing cart. Runes lit up the snow around them like festival lights. She blurred forwards, energy crackling up her limbs towards her outstretched arm. Her talon smacked into Gilda’s face, and pushed
A weak sun sent golden fingers through the thinning cloud layer. Bits of frostbitten metal poked out of snowdrifts. Scattered coal looked like chocolate ice cream under the fresh snow.
There was a muffled yawn, then a red glow pulsed underneath a pile of snow. Snow hissed, then burst before an outstretched hoof. A pony covered in heavy cloths stumbled out, gasping for breath. She rubbed her goggles clean once she stopped wheezing, and looked out beyond into the distance.
There, a mountain stood before her. A flickering tower of light shown from its top.
Calling.