Garvino put the barrel on the floor and passed a claw over his brow to wipe away the sweat. He loved Fidelis and his rock-beer very much, but still hated that the diamond dog insisted on keeping the rocks inside the barrel the whole time. It made hurling them around so much more of an issue.
A deep breath and stretching of limbs later, Garvino was ready for the rest of the batch. He turned towards the cellar door when he heard the frantic clopping of tiny hooves on stone, soon followed by little Chryssi calling him. "Garvino! Garvino! They are here! They brought a Roc! There are sooo many! Garvino!"
He smiled. He wouldn't have to get the rest of the barrels alone. Certainly, there was some attention and smacking on the head involved to make sure just the designated provisions were taken, but that was the easy part, and it was mostly ceremonial anyway. He turned and caught little Chryssi as she was skidding to a halt. In a single swoop, he put her on his back and said, "Well then, shall we welcome the Flock?"
Chryssi nodded grinning. "Yeah, and then there's the Roc. It's like a chicken, but it's giant and I can eat it and–" She froze, gulped, and continued in a demure tone. "I’d like to get a bite very much but if I can't that is fine too and I will get just a small piece. And I've not got the Hunt."
"Oh, so Ginevra told you the story? Good. It's a good story, a very important one. But don't be scared by it." He chuckled and walked towards the door. "If we fear the Hunt may get you, we will help. In the Flock, you're never alone."
The day was pleasant and warm. Like every Spring Festival, the pegasi had worked hard to keep the clouds at bay. In the distant sky, he could see them mount their assault, build up pressure, and churn. There would be a lot of rain in the coming week, but that was as well. It was good for the fields, and if there was some hail lurking in there, they would break it up.
But those were worries for the future. Today they would bask in the sun, and when the cold night came, the bonfire would provide for them.
The sound of voices from around the corner pulled him out from his meditations.
"Ginevra, where's the useless sack of guano?"
"Mother, glad to see you are well, even if I remember you having two eyes. As for Garvino, he is getting the rock-beer and should be here pretty soon. I sent the little bug to get him."
Garvino put a claw on Chryssi's lips, silencing the question that was probably coming. He took the filly, put her down, and gestured her to keep her mouth closed.
"So the cockroach is hiding under a stone. Sounds about right, it's what I expected."
He looked around, then jumped upwards, his claws finding purchase on the wall’s large stones. Without making a sound he reached the roof.
"Yes mother, that's exactly what's happening. Not what I was telling you, listening to that would be stupid."
He crawled over the roof, taking care to not move the tiles until he arrived at the border. Two floors below, Ginevra was rolling her eyes with great emphasis, while an old griffon stood in front of her, scowling. The new arrival had dark blue plumage and fur, marred with gray strands here and there. Her white wing-tips shivered with nervous energy, while her head turned from one side to the other, occasionally showing the angry-red scar where her left eye had been.
"Damn right it's that way. Don't get all snarky on me, little kitten. I've known that waste of space for longer than you've been alive, and if I say he's crawling in the dirt like the worm he is, then I'm right about it."
Many thought about griffins either as honor-obsessed fools or as blood-lusty, treacherous savages. Both camps got something right and a lot wrong. Griffins were mostly pragmatic. You held your word because you wanted to be believed again and your good name was the most important thing for that. And you attacked prey from the back when the occasion presented itself because hitting first meant a lot less trouble. Garvino jumped, claws held out in front of him. Air rushed past him, blood screamed in his ears. An instant later his wings shot open, slowing him down just enough to avoid his bones breaking. He was about to hit when his target turned.
She was fast, frighteningly so. He could barely see how she moved sideways, her right claw striking like a snake and wrapping around his extended foreleg. His muscles protested as she pulled upwards, changing his trajectory. As she turned on herself, whirling him around like a doll, he knew pain would soon become his whole world.
His attack had been completely redirected, and while he was doing the second round he had time to examine what had gone wrong. He was quite sure he hadn't made any sound, he had even approached from her blind side, he had–
The ground hit him in the back like a cart running down a hill. All the air was pushed out from his lungs, and his sight blackened out for a moment.
When he could breathe again, and light graced his eyes, a blurry form stood over him. He felt something sharp press against his throat, and as his senses began to work again, he saw the griffin standing over him, one claw held to his neck, a scowl on her face. "Would you look at what dropped here? Ginevra, you got an infestation of varmints on this farm. You should do something about it."
Garvino coughed and felt the talons press into his flesh. "Lovely to see you here, Gerte. Wouldn't have expected you to still be around. I had such high hopes that the winds had finally gotten tired of you and smashed you on the rocks. That would have been such a–"
"Would you stop, please? This is getting ridiculous." Ginevra stepped forward and pulled Gerte's claw away. "It has been ridiculous for years. You are older than stones. Grow up! Or get frisky in the bushes, for all I care, but cut it with this crap."
Garvino rolled on his stomach and stood up. His legs still trembled a bit, and he wobbled to the side before catching himself. "Ginevra, this is the way of our people. This–"
"No, it's only you two doing that stuff." An extended wing patted Garvino on the side, brushing away the dirt. Ginevra glanced briefly to Gerte before she continued. "You are setting a bad example. The way of our people… Do you know how embarrassed I was when I slammed that guy into a wall in Nemeva because I liked him? Do you know how I felt when I got a cell instead of a night in the hay?"
Gerte snickered. "Right, that was fun. And educational."
Ginevra glared at her, then pointed over her own shoulder towards the corner of the wall. "You should at least know how impressionable Chryssi is. Now grow up and set a good example."
Garvino stretched his neck and caught a glimpse of something small and black disappearing behind the wall. He shook his head. "You worry too much. Gerte, it's nice to see you again. Now come, I have somebody I want you to meet. The latest addition to our strange family." He turned towards the building and called. "Come out, Chryssi. Everything's fine."
As the foal appeared from behind the corner, he could see Gerte tense up. Chryssi immediately stopped, she flicked her tongue and looked at him, a hoof still raised in the air.
Garvino leaned towards Gerte and whispered, "I hinted to you that she was different, but she's a nice little foal. That feeling you are getting, that's normal. Try to keep it down, she can taste anger and fear. Literally." He smiled as he called out, "Come on, Chryssi. No need to be scared."
Chryssi came in front of them and sat down. Her eyes danced between the griffins, each of them towering over her,
It was the time. Garvino took a deep breath and said, "Gerte, let me present to you Chrysalis, the newest Motherless member of the House Sottile. She's family to me, and like other members of the House, she shall be part of the Flock."
The old griffin matriarch stood still. Her good eye focused on the foal, her tail motionless.
Chryssi fidgeted, glanced up to Ginevra, then back to Gerte. From the other side of the house, the calls and hollering of the Flock filled the air with life. And yet it all seemed so subdued to Garvino. It was as if a cloak of tense silence had descended on their little corner of the world.
"Garvino said you are a hunter, that you are good, that you want to help. And that you are family. I trust Master Sottile and Copper Horn enough to have you here. But the Flock does not only give. It takes too. Listen to the stories tonight. Listen to us. In the morning you'll know if you want to join us, and I will know if you shall." Gerte glared at the cowering filly. She leaned forward, her beak almost touching Chryssi's snout. And then a smile broke through. "In the meanwhile, be merry. You are welcome to join us, eat, sing, and dance. And Geno will have somebody to play with."
It was the biggest thing she had ever seen. It was bigger than Donna Copper Horn. It was bigger than the cart. It was bigger than the great oak in the forest.
Chryssi sat on the boulder in the field and simply stared at the gigantic, incomprehensibly vast Roc the griffins were hanging over the recently-coated pit. They had staffs and beams and nets and ropes to keep it suspended, and six of them were working at just that. They were singing, the meaning of the words escaping Chryssi. It had a steady rhythm, and there was a lot of repetition in the words of the song, but the voices kept changing tone, dancing, scuffling, playing. And their work seemed interweaved with it too. A strong exclamation corresponded to a staff being pushed. A clacking of tongues dictated whether a rope end was thrown one way or the other. A trill made two griffins change their places.
It was a dance. Without talking, they were building something. There was order, there was structure, and it seemed to flow naturally.
Chryssi liked it. She liked it a lot. And it had captured her.
Gone was the strange feeling of worry about the idea of meeting completely new people. It had been such a constant presence in the previous days. Excitement and curiosity, feelings she now had words for, had been at the forefront. But deep down in her, something was contorting at the prospect of meeting somebody she had never met before. How would they be? Would they all be like Ginevra or Garvino? Or like Donna Copper Horn? From somewhere the concept of the unknown being a danger had taken up residence in her mind. It had nagged and chewed at her and robbed her of some of the joy.
But it was over now. How were they? That was simple, they were dancing and they were singing.
She bobbed her head as they raised the Roc over the thing they had built. She was anticipating the feast that would come, she was ready, hungry, she would–
"This is the foal Gerte told us about. Now play with her and have fun."
The voice pulled Chryssi out from her drooling moment. She looked to her side and saw another griffon, a male with black feathers on his wings and a gray fur-coat, put a little one down from his back and on the boulder next to Chryssi.
The little griffon had similar black feathers, but there were silvery streaks on them. Two bands of gray ran from his head and continued on the reddish fur down to the tail. He was slightly larger than Chryssi, and glared at her.
"I'm Giovanni, and this is my son Geno–" The larger griffon patted the little one on his head "–and you are… Sorry, little one, can't get those pony names of yours straight in my head. What's your name again?"
Chryssi tilted her head and flicked her tongue. There were mirth and something else coming from Giovanni. She couldn't quite get what the second thing was. Geno, on the other hoof, was exuding a powerful mix of anxiety, fear, and excitement. "Uh, I'm Chrysalis, but everybody calls me Chryssi. Uhm…" She was meeting new people. Master Sottile and Meadowsweet had told her what to do. She only had to do it, "Hi, I'm Chryssi. It's a pleasure to meet you." Outstretched hoof, smile, that should be everything.
The big griffon took her hoof in his claw and shook it. "Nice to meet you too. Geno, greet her too, come on."
There was a moment of silence, then Geno opened his wings. He bowed his back, his fur and his feathers stood up. A claw was put forward, and his tail lashed around. A deep, low growl crawled out from his throat.
The mix of emotions had changed just a bit. There was more anxiety, but no anger. Geno seemed to do some of the things Old Scar did when he wanted to fight off Chryssi, or when he was warning that there would soon be blood. Maybe she had done something wrong. Had she messed up the greeting? She was sure she had followed all the steps and avoided all the pitfalls. She had said hello, she had put her hoof forward, she hadn't bitten off any pieces from the griffon she was greeting, nor had she eaten any of his things. She hadn't even poured some of the green stuff over him. Which wasn't something she would have done in the first place, but Meadowsweet had been very insistent about it nonetheless. Confused she looked up to Giovanni. "Uhm…"
He grinned. "Well, Geno is trying to establish his dominance. You see–"
"Hey, you can't tell it that way!" Geno stood straight and glared at his father. His voice was far more pleasant than the growl suggested. It was unexpectedly melodious, dancing smoothly between the highs and lows of words. "You're going to ruin it."
Giovanni chuckled and looked at his son. "She's not used to our ways, and you gotta at least have her know what you wanna do." He turned back to Chryssi. "So, he's trying to establish dominance, what are you gonna do? Wanna submit or wanna push back?" At Geno's scandalized gasp, Giovanni answered, half-snickering, "Oh, come on, can't be too easy."
Chryssi blinked, raised her hoof, opened her mouth, then scratched her head. She had clearly missed something. Again. "Uhm, why do you do that dominance thing? I'm not a colt."
And now she tasted confusion, which meant she had been weird. She sighed. In the last months, she had been so good. Nobody on the farm had tasted of confusion for a while, except for some minor occurrence every now and then. Meeting new people was difficult, and Chrissy wasn't sure she liked it right now.
"What's the issue with being a colt?" Giovanni smelled of curiosity.
"Tia and Lulu said that if there was a colt I should show dominance and who had the say here. Which was a bit weird because I thought everybody could say things, but then it was another weird way to say things, and it really means who knows more about stuff, like Willowbark has the say when somebody is sick because he is an Apothecary and that means he knows about being sick. But I don't remember him showing dominance, so they said that it wasn't necessary because we all knew it and Apothecaries don't show dominance by making scary faces, but then Willowbark said something about how it worked with hidden faces, which is something else I didn't get and then Meadowsweet said that it wasn't really the time for politics right now and that I would only become more confused and Tia and Lulu might get ideas. Getting ideas doesn't seem a bad thing, I think, but when Lulu and Tia get them Donna Copper Horn gets angry and Master Sottile gets his weird smelling water. And then…"
Her voice petered out. Geno was looking at her with glassy eyes, sitting down on his haunches and with his wings folded. Giovanni was holding a claw in front of his beak, but she could taste the merriment quite well. He snorted, shook his head, and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, but you remind me of my little brother from a long time ago. We'll have to work on your storytelling if you are gonna join the Flock." He patted Geno on the head. "Hey, remember, showing dominance."
"Right!" And in an instant, the wings were unfurled and the growling was there again.
Giovanni smiled and said, "So, Tia and Lulu, right? They told you that if there was a colt you'll have to show who's in command. And they taught you how to make a scary face. Well, it would be good for Geno here to have a bit of competition and pushing back. Does wonders to improve your game." He leaned forward and whispered. "You know, technically he is a colt. You should show him your scary face."
Geno was a colt. That explained so much. Well, that explained something. He lacked a lot of the other marks Lulu and Tia had told her about. He didn't stink, he wasn't a butt-face, didn't seem to drool all the time, and he certainly wasn't blowing raspberries all the time. Maybe there were different kind of colts.
She pulled herself back from that train of thought. It wasn't time for that right now, there were more urgent questions to address. It was the moment for the agreed scary face.
Chryssi opened her maw as wide as possible, chitin plates cracking on the side of her face. She showed off the ranks upon ranks of fangs, large on the outside, and getting smaller and smaller. The light-devouring darkness of her throat seemed to almost reach out, the sound of air rushing down it a roar making the boulder under her vibrate. She bowed her head down, the fangs cutting into the rock. When she closed her mouth, the cracking and scratching were like thunder. The maw snapped, taking a two-hoof sized piece of the boulder with her. It was time for the final phase. She looked Geno in the eyes and chewed.
A whack on her head pulled her out from the performance. She gulped down and looked up. Standing over her, Fidelis glared and said, "What are you doing? You do not scare guests, that's horrible!"
"I–" He tasted angry and embarrassed and worried. It was a bitter mixture, that made her almost feel ill. "I should show dominance. They told me that I had to make the scary face, and–"
Fidelis took her head and turned it towards the griffins. Geno was curled behind Giovanni, while the adult griffon was standing protectively between his son and Chryssi, fear and determination almost a solid wall around him. His breathing was rapid and controlled, his feathers and fur stood up.
Now she had truly messed up. She lowered her head and whispered, "Sorry."
"Be calm, she won't do you anything. She's very sweet, but doesn't know how things are." Fidelis sighed and kneeled down beside Chryssi. "Little one, would you really bite our guests like you bit the rock?"
"No. Never." She shook her head. "I just made a scary face. I… Tia and Lulu weren't so scared."
"Those two know you. I know you. Our guests don't know you. Your scary face is really scary. And if you want dominance, never show something you won't do. If they challenge you and you don't do it, you lose so much. And if they don't challenge, they think you are more evil than you are." Fidelis put his hand on Chryssi's head. "Now, let's show that you are a nice little one. And no more scary faces in challenges."
"What is she?" Giovanni's voice was barely a whisper.
"She's a little lost and a hunter. And she's sweet. I swear." Fidelis' rough fingers kept scratching Chryssi's head. "Your little one is safe with her. And she learned a lesson, isn't that right?"
It seemed that after certain initial difficulties, little Geno and the bug had found some common ground on which to build up a relationship of some kind. Specifically, Geno ran around finding stuff and then pulled it to Chryssi to watch her chew it. At least he had until his father had caught him trying to sneak a buckler away from some of the griffins far too involved in butchering the skinned roc to guard their weapons against an inquiring young mind.
Which put the two right under Ginevra's temporary care, a situation she wasn't too excited about, to tell the truth.
"Did you ever eat a dragon?"
Mostly because the questions Geno seemed obsessed with showed dedication bordering on obsession.
"Uhm, no. I never saw a dragon, and they can talk, I think. Donna Copper Horn said to never eat things that can talk."
"And if the dragon is mute?"
"Then–" Chryssi froze. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but no sound came out. Finally, she turned to Ginevra. "Can I eat a mute dragon?"
Philosophy wasn't Ginevra's strong point, nor did she really care that much about dragons, but one couldn't really know all the griffin stories she knew without being at least passingly familiar with the idea of a slippery slope. She sighed. "Nope. Being mute doesn't make one food. Same as sleeping, being knocked out, being bespelled, or being too small to talk. You don't eat speaking or writing people, and that means it's enough if only some of them can speak or write." She glared at the little griffon. "And you, Geno, should know that."
He fidgeted. "But those are griffin rules, and Chryssi isn't a griffin." His pupils suddenly grew large, and he turned to Chryssi. "You aren't a griffin, right? I mean, you aren't a pony, you're too awesome for that, but you aren't a griffin." His head snapped towards Ginevra again. "Is she a kind of griffin?"
"Nah, she's just Family." Ginevra hadn't seen Fidelis join them, but now there he stood with two mugs in his paws and grinning from ear to ear. He sipped from one while giving the other to Ginevra, then he continued. "Ponies, Griffins, Diamond Dogs, even Donkeys, no matter. Only Family counts, and Family is not done by blood."
An earthy smell arose from it as Ginevra sniffed at her mug, grinned, then bottomed it up. The rock-beer flowed smoothly, burning in her throat and then settling like an avalanche in her stomach. "That hit the spot. Now, far from me to complain too much, but we’ve not even started to eat."
Fidelis shrugged. "I dug all that there was to dig. Dusted the guts they pulled from the bird with quicklime and covered them with clay and earth. There's nothing more I have to do, so I can drink. And you are not cutting or cooking, so you can drink with me." He sat down in front of Geno and Chryssi, his legs crossed in one of those weird knots bipeds did.
"But family comes from blood. I share blood with father and mother, and they are my family." Geno pointed to a griffin a couple of lengths away who was carrying a piece of meat half as big as her to the tables put up around the firepits, where flames were burning high. "And I share blood with her too, she's my aunt, and she is family."
"I don't share blood with that chicken–" Fidelis pointed to Ginevra, "–or with the bug here, but they are Family. And neither Master Sottile, or Donna Copper Horn, or Meadowsweet, or anyone else on the farm shares blood with this mutt–" He pointed at himself, "–but they are Family too. Best family I ever had, even, if not for my grandfather. And for many of them, it’s the same, but that's not my story to tell."
If she had ever seen an opening, that was one. Ginevra laid down, the empty mug at her side. "And what is your story to tell?"
"How I came to this Family. What kind of question is that?" He emptied his mug and put it down at his side. "We have time before the food. And this is a story for a few, not for the whole Flock. Little bug was worried she was different, and now she'll hear why she shouldn't care. And you, little griffon, you will learn why blood is nice but is not the truth when it comes to Family."
"My story begins before I was born, in the great stone city of Redvein. It was one of the great wonders of the east, with giant caves so high that sometimes it rained inside. Canals were cut into stone-floors, and barges full of riches crawled through the bones of the mountain.
"There were eight-times-eight-times-eight great packs, each made up from many different bloodlines, each one composed of many families bound by old laws and new contracts."
Ginevra glanced at the little ones listening to Fidelis. Geno seemed a bit confused about why a diamond dog was telling this but knew better than to interrupt a story told on Wind Whispering. Chryssi had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was thinking very hard about something. Then she perked up, made an o with her mouth and started to say, "That's a lot of–" Ginevra's claws snapped close around her muzzle. Fidelis didn't seem very disturbed, but it was important to snuff those behaviors as soon as possible. There were some older griffins who were fast at taking offense.
"Oh yes, it was a great city, deep under the mountain, and in the center of it, like in all of the great cities below the earth, was the caged god of Redvein. Now, you see, there are many, many gods in the world, and most of them are terrifying hunters. The Wendigos that sow discord among ponies, reap war, and breath ice are sky-gods. The Hunt that stalks the griffins, and catches their souls to pull them in a mad chase of death is a heart-god. I heard that Zebras fear the fire-gods that feast on smoke and ash, and the fish-people down in the south stare worried at the mad chaos nesting in the Forever-storm over the sea. Each of them is truly terrible and fearsome, and maybe there's a god somewhere for you too, Chryssi, waiting for you to get lost and ready to get you.
"Now the gods we Diamond Dogs fear are the gods of earth. They lurk in the darkness and wait for us to settle somewhere. Then they make us stupid and lazy, and finally make us wander alone in the tunnels in the depths, where they will catch us and eat us, and often not even the bones are found. Now, there is no way to build a city in such a way. Ponies can make peace and try to get along to fend off the Wendigos. Griffins can be strong and careful to keep the Hunt at bay, but what can we Diamond Dogs do? Hmmm? We can move and move, but that is no way to build a city or to write history, or–" Fidelis raised the mug. "–to brew this. No, something had to be done."
Chryssi was barely breathing, Ginevra could feel it. She released the muzzle of the little bug, but not much seemed to change. She was enthralled.
"Well, we knew how to listen to the stones, so we learned how to whisper to it and to build. And so the smartest and bravest of the packs got together and built great statues in which to trap the gods. And once trapped in a place, the gods couldn't prey on us anymore, and no other god would come as long as the old one was still there. And that is why in the middle of the great cities there is a trapped god, raging in his stone prison, and with smart and brave Diamond Dogs working tirelessly to keep the cage intact, repairing and appeasing.
"My grandfather was one such dog. He was the head of the family, with many pups and many siblings, and he was very important in the bloodline.
"When I was born, Redvein was waging war against Silverrock, another great city. They had been at war for three generations, and neither wanted to surrender. And that's the reason my mother, a soldier, and my father, who told stories to the rocks, departed soon after I first tumbled into the guts of the world. You will ask what a dog who talks to rocks does in battle, but they are very, very important. Under the mountain, it is everything. It's the sky, the floor, you can even breathe it. And so, telling the rock what to do or to not do the bidding of some other dog is what keeps warriors alive.
"All this I heard from my grandfather. I can't remember much. I remember the smell of his workshop when he decided to take me in and teach me too. I remember running through endless caves with other pups. And I remember tears when he heard my mother and father wouldn't come back."
Fidelis turned his head and raised his mug to a passing griffon carrying a bundle of rosemary and laurel. "Could you please fill it up for me?" He pointed at Ginevra. "And for her too?" The griffon was about to say something when, grinning, Fidelis said, "I'm telling a story to the little ones."
The mugs were grabbed without a further word.
"Now, my life back then isn't important for the story. Let's just say that I loved my cousins and brothers very much. Blood bound us, you know? And blood was so important." He sighed. "Anyway, when my parents went off to gnaw at the bones of the earth, it was the beginning of the end. They were in the first great battle Redvein lost completely, and it only got worse from then on. My grandfather became more worried from day to day, there were more and more secret talks between important dogs, first in the Bloodline, then the pack, and then the city. it wasn't for the ears of pups, but many years later my grandfather told me that they knew their time was ending. And so, a couple of years later, when I was just learning to read some of the ancient signs, Redvein fell. I was hiding with my cousins in one of the deep caves, huddled together, fighting each other because we were bored and scared and then bored again, as pups would do. And then, I don't know after how long, the cave opened again and the mothers came to get us. I remember well the slumped shoulders, the tails hanging low, the ears pinned back. There were no tears, but it was as if they were wailing."
The moment for the pause was wrong, at least in Ginevra's opinion, but she could see that he needed it. He was good for an amateur, but he wasn't a trained storyteller, that much was clear. When the griffin came back with three mugs she was grateful for the brief distraction. He gave one to Fidelis, one to her, and kept the third as he sat down.
Chryssi tried to be stealthy and sniff at Ginevra's mug. It was cute in the clumsiness but still deserved a whack on the muzzle.
"Thank you." Fidelis drank, smacked his lips, and said, "So, Redvein had fallen, and worst of all, they would take our chained God away. Without a God, there wouldn't be a new city, and all that was built would fall. They told the dogs that those who wanted could become servants in Silverrock for thrice eight years, while the others would be dispersed to the eight corners of the world. To you, that may sound like an obvious choice. Every one of you would choose freedom, but for the dogs of Redvein, well, it was different. Years of servitude before they could join the packs sounded better than misery in the depths of the world and being eaten by wild gods.
"Many chose to accept. Others didn't have that choice. Those who had been jailers to the god and their apprentices would be exiled, so as to never rebuild the city again. Now little one, you would expect that Blood had some weight there, that the family wouldn't let my grandfather and me go alone out there, right?" He snorted. "But that happened. We went away, with just what we could carry in our bags, and with three days to leave the range.
"Many years passed. My grandfather found work among the Masons of the Concord, and I followed. Others weren't so lucky, and in time, those outside the great city forgot. Even in the Concord, it wasn't easy. We weren't ponies, and often only tolerated because we did stuff that was useful. I went by until I met Master Sottile. He was a weird pony, travelling along with a minotaur and Meadowsweet and Millet and that little bundle of snot that was Willowbark. Met me when he was looking for a mason to help with a laboratory of his in Brookwood, in the west. I was sorting through stuff from a rock farm while he talked to the master. And then he came to me, and talked to me, and listened. Truly listened, even got me to tell the whole story of mine. And then he asked if I could help him. And I did because it was good pay." He downed the rest of the mug. "Was nice, but I thought it would pass, like everything else. I was wrong. I got in trouble with other masons, they said I stole and broke stuff. Wasn't true, but what could I do? They told they would send me away. But Master Sottile helped me. He knows the law, and when they told him that he would risk being sent away too for breaking Concord, he stayed by my side. Defended me, and it was something else. I work with rocks and shape them. He works with words and laws, and does wonders."
Fidelis put the mug on the ground and looked up to the sky. "He wasn't bound by blood, but he decided I was Family, and he stood there, against the three Judges, defending me and not caring for himself." He snorted. "We lost and were sent away. But he didn't care. He asked me to rebuild the laboratory somewhere else, to go with him, and he told me about Harmony. I didn't get it at the time, but I didn't care much, I had Family, the rest didn't matter."
Seeing a biped disentangle himself and stand up in that weird way they had never stopped to amaze Ginevra. Fidelis stretched his arms out and his joints popped and cracked. He smiled and leaned forward. "So, you see, blood is nice and all, but Family is something else. It's the Flock, or these strange people all living here in the farm." He looked to Chryssi. "And no matter what we are, we are together."