//------------------------------//
// Chapter 14 
// Story: A Bug on a Stick 
// by Orbiting Kettle 
//------------------------------//

Life had put a lot of different challenges in front of her. In her two years on this earth she had fought with theater, with reading and writing, with a language that seemed, with a determination bordering on active evilness, to try to say things which meant different things whenever possible, and often even when it shouldn't have been possible at all. She had learned to walk, what pain meant, to care for others when they were sick, and recently to meet new people.

And yet the most difficult thing ever was right in front of her.

On a flat stone lay a piece of meat as large as her head, dripping with fat and rubbed in with mashed herbs and vinegar. The smell rising from it was unlike anything she had smelled before, and yet she could practically hear the promise of a whole life condensed in flavor, of juices running down her maw, the subtle hint of the thousands of prey the roc had devoured before landing in front of her.

It was a delightful temptation. One she couldn't touch until the oldest griffon of the flock, a wilted male with a mean look and more scars than feathers, had taken the first bite.

She wasn't the only one longing for food. Griffins all around her sat in a big circle around a recently kindled bonfire, flat stones on which the meat laid, baskets with thin slates of crunchy things that were like bread, if bread was only made of crust. Mixed with the smell of food she could taste hunger, excitement, joy, and something else, something she didn't have a name for, but which seemed to come off the older members of the farm on Hearts Warming. Bitter, delicate, with a hidden layer of sweetness. It baffled her.

Or it would if she hadn't been distracted by trying to control herself and not simply stuff what lay in front of her down, rock and all.

When the murmuring around her suddenly disappeared and only the crackling sound of the fire remained, Chryssi looked up.

The old griffon, she thought his name was Giosualdo, had stood up and walked in the center of the circle. He made a complete circle around the fire, looking at each and every face. The flames at his back, his form just a shadow in contrast, cut an impressive figure. Suddenly Chryssi wasn't so sure about his age. Only the powerful and very, very complicated melange of emotions streaming from him was any indication about how long he had been in this world.

"Tonight, there are some faces here I haven't seen for years and others that are completely new. Once upon a time, I would have frowned at that, but not anymore. Our Flock is different, has been different for some time, and even an old bird like myself has come to accept it." His voice was rough, like gravel. "But in one thing we are not different. Tonight we remember those who couldn't be with us anymore. There may be Diamond Dogs and… others with us, but we remain griffins, and we honor the fallen like griffins have done since the dawn of time."

He turned around and grabbed two large pieces of meat. "This is for Geppo, who fell to the fangs of a hydra, but not before he had ripped out its throats." He threw one piece in the bonfire. "And this is for Guntha, who fell to time after a life spent on the winds of the world, leaving behind a score of deeds worthy of songs." The other piece of meat landed among the flames.

"Tonight they shall feast with us, we will remember them, and through us, they shall live in our world again and defeat death. May their hunts be thrilling, may their feasts be filled with mirth, and may their descendants be as numerous as the stars." He grabbed the third piece of meat and held it high. "For us who lived, for them who died, be merry and be sated."

As he tore into the meat, all around a joyful, defiant screeching rose in the encroaching night, and everyone started to eat.

Chryssi grabbed her own bounty and bit down onto it. It was everything she expected and then some more. It sang to her of the sensations of a long life full of prey, so much more complex than the little flashes of experiences she got from salted anchovies or the frantic whistle of rats. It told her of the strain of long flight on muscles, and how those moved. And then it was over. Blinking Chryssi looked at her empty hooves glistering in the light of fire from the grease and the juices coating them. Black tentacles retracted into her mouth after a quick pass to clean up the remains from her frogs and the holes in her legs.

The circle of griffins was silent again. As Chryssi looked up she saw them staring at her, eyes wide, muscles tense. It seemed like all of them were ready to fight or take flight.

All of them except four. Geno was looking at her and grinning with the kind of mad glee she had seen on Tia's face as Willowbark had talked about how some of the powders he used were dangerous because they burned bright as the sun. Fidelis was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She had no idea he could do that. Ginevra was silently laughing, and Garvino had his claws over his eyes.

She could taste the tension. The fear. The… was that excitement?

She had to think, and fast. They had prepared her for a lot of different situations. This was… Right, this was “Doing something horrifying or offensive while eating and getting the rest of the table in quartering-mood.” Millet had told her about that and how to deal with it. Shouting “Look, an Eagle!” and then running away didn't seem feasible. There were no eagles. Going for a bold toast that would make everybody get drunk and forget it seemed slightly apter, but she had no idea how to do that, and the examples Millet had given her didn't match the situation. As far as she knew, there were neither kings of any sort here, nor were there mares with glorious flanks. That also had got Millet a whack on the head with a cane from Meadowsweet, and Chryssi didn't want to risk that.

That left just the last tactic, the one suggested by Meadowsweet as Millet was holding his head.

Chryssi smiled without showing too many teeth, blinked, raised her stone plate, and asked in the most innocent voice possible–Luna asking for sweets while denying that she already had had some–"That was very, very good. Can I have seconds, pretty please?"

"Hah! Garvino, you finally brought someone dangerous among us?" Giosualdo roared from his place, holding a mug high in the air. "Little one, get some wings, some muscles, learn to fight, and you may fly with us one day. I want to see the faces of whatever miserable bunch of featherless bastards dare confront that!" He turned to his side. "Give the little one more food. I want her big and strong!"

The mood flipped so fast it almost knocked Chryssi down. The fear she felt before was still there, but it was subdued, chained, and had somehow become the base for something else. That wasn't what Meadowsweet had told her to expect. She was supposed to get some laughter.

But it didn't seem bad either. She–

A new, grease-dripping piece of meat in front of her derailed her thoughts and put them into the box of stuff she'll eventually, maybe, some time when there wasn't roasted roc, was going to examine later.

Ginevra held out the stick on which the tasty prize was speared. "Here, little bug, eat and be merry. And try to get a tad slower and taste it instead of inhaling the meat. You have no idea when you're gonna to get something like it again."

Chryssi nodded and reined in the instincts that told her to simply gulp it down. She reached out and grabbed the meat. It was even larger than the one she had first.

"And keep the tentacles inside your mouth this time. I had no idea you had them, but I'm pretty sure that's kinda uncouth showing them. I think. Not sure there are rules for it, but I bet Donna Copper Horn would disapprove."

Something moved inside her mouth, but she could keep it down. She would behave, and she would be good, and she would make sure that she could come to this Wind Whispering thing again.





Geno still wasn't sure what Chryssi was, but he wanted to learn that thing with the tentacles coming out of her mouth and ripping flesh to pieces. It was gross and scary, and awesome, and he was sure that if he could do that the next time he got in a scuffle with those scaly brats in Cluggra things would go differently.

Also, the adults didn't seem to like it, which made it automatically twice as good.

The lack of wings was kind of an issue if they wanted to hunt together, but Geno was nothing if not resourceful, and there was nothing in this world he wouldn't be able to overcome. And then they would get glory like no other griffin before them. Well, maybe not as much as the great heroes of the first Hunt, but something close was something they could aim at. No doubt about that.

As he finished his last piece of Roc he saw Gerte walk into the center of the circle, carrying in her claws a wooden mask painted red and green.

He blinked and then grinned. That could mean only one thing.

He gulped down the rest of his food and sat straight, his wings fidgeting.

He loved The Fall of Boreas.

Gerte opened her wings, put the mask on, and silence fell unto the assembly. For an instant, there was just the sound of flames and Chryssi chewing, and then just the fire.

"It was a long time ago when Scirocco, full of fire and sand from the south of the world, witnessed the great folly of the six kings and queens of Boreas." With a snap of her wings threads like gossamer unrolled from her feathers and got caught in the updraft of the bonfire. Suddenly Gerte was no more, and Scirocco stood there, with golden and red sand flowing from it up in the sky. Her voice was a dune of sand crawling in the hot desert. "Scirocco had slain the storm-beasts and, sated from their blood, lazily drifted to the north to see what her sons and daughters were doing. And lo and behold, there came Gar, the future, first king of Boreas."

Out from the shadows surrounding the circle, a massive figure stepped through. A heavy blanket, black, red, and blue, covered it completely. The mask completely covering the head had a somber expression, the beak decorated with bronze and opals, a wave of feathers coming out from the top and falling down the neck.

He stopped in the middle and looked out over the assembled griffins. As he lifted a claw, a choir of "Oh!" raised into the night, silenced the moment he put it back down. He looked out, and said, "As far as my sight reaches, griffin Flocks hunt and fight alone. No more! I shall reunite them. One Flock under the sky, one Flock on the Northern Wind, and I shall be their king."

The griffins answered as if with one voice, "One Flock under King Gar, ruler of Boreas."

Scirocco stepped forward and flowed around Gar, looking at him from all the sides, before folding her wings and sitting down. She turned her head to the audience. "Scirocco was not happy that the fool had pledged himself to her Sister, but she was also curious and loved her sons and daughters very much. So she decided to stay around and see what would happen next.

"Many came to challenge the new king, griffins, monsters, and spirits alike, but he struck them all down." One at a time the challengers stepped out from the shadows and danced with Gar until he struck them down and cast them again in the darkness.

Geno loved this part. He gasped when The Ice Storm came, all blues and sharp angles, and he cheered when Gar got around it and struck it with a wing in the back. The Five Thousand Snakes tried to dance around Gar and confound him, but the King of old danced better and left them wriggling on the ground. The Great Stonewolf broke his teeth on Gar's shield, the Black Bunch kneeled to him, the Queen of the Sirens died by his sword and her reign shattered, and one after another, the Flocks came to him and swore allegiance, until, at the end, every griffin in the circle had joined in celebration of Gar, the King of all Flocks.

When the ruckus calmed down, Scirocco appeared again, flowing out of the light of the fire along with another figure."Scirocco was impressed. Not since the griffins had left the mountains had there been one so hungry for glory and yet not falling to the Hunt. But even Gar could not win over the end of all. And so, after many years, the White Winged Hunter came to carry him away. Scirocco and Bore made peace for a night and came along in his final flight to the lands where even the winds couldn't go."

Gar left the circle. His son entered. The mask was similar, but the blanket on his back was covered in circular patterns. "I, Gama, son of Gar, shall honor my legacy, and under me, the kingdom of Boreas shall reach from horizon to horizon."

Two warriors stepped up on his sides, iron on their masks, tall, proud. They turned outwards and stepped forward. Tambourines rattled out in the darkness while the warriors stroked out with their wings. And then they fell. Gama wept and left with his head hanging low. His daughter came, Geme, and she hunted the sky-beasts to the last, leaving the Storm to rage unchecked. Her Son Geta wasted richness in the great Temple to his ancestors, filled with idols and gold. Gurna, daughter of Geta, sent out the flocks to gather trophies and conquer the lost domains. Only half of them returned.

Finally Garne the Wise came into the light. Where diminishing cheers had greeted her ancestors, only silence waited for her. Again there were two warriors at her side, but instead of turning outward they stepped forward and faced each other, wings flaring out, claws raised high. Garne walked in their midst. Her voice was low, yet resounded in the silence. She talked like she was singing a dirge, crystal tears on her mask under the eyes. "Enough! What was a dream became a nightmare. No more griffin blood shall be spilled for the glory of a king or a queen. Never again shall one rule over the Flocks because of their birth. Let this be my only and my last law." She turned her head around and looked at each of the warriors. "I free you from your obligations to Boreas. The kingdom is no more, and neither are your pledges of loyalty. Let the Flocks be free."

The warriors stood straight, then bowed to Garne before finally turning around and leaving the circle.

Scirocco once again appeared from the light, her movements calling every eye on her. "Scirocco had despaired for the chains her sons and daughters had imposed on themselves. Forged from dreams and hopes, they had been too heavy and too strong to be broken. And now Scirocco saw that they had put them down themselves and were once again dancing in her and her sisters’ embrace." She opened her wings and embraced Garne. "And to show her gratitude to the last descendant of Gar, she took Garne as her lover and brought her up to the heavens, where the griffon who had broken the bindings of all her brothers and sisters could be free from the earth and from a legacy heavier than the biggest mountain."

When she opened her wings again, Garne wasn't there anymore. Scirocco held the mask and the blanket, pressed it on her chest, and with a powerful flap shot up, disappearing into the night.





"Gerte is a great Scirocco. Always was." Giosualdo, a mug in his claws filled up to the rim with stone-beer, sat down at Garvino's side.

"She is." Garvino raised his own mug. "To Geppo and to Guntha, may the first one finally get enough tail as to be satisfied and the later find enough stones to throw at noisy youngsters."

The mugs clanked against each other, foam sloshing out and running down the side. Giosualdo grinned. "May Guntha get the booze she loved and Geppo the songs he longed for."

As they drank, the circle around them broke up and many little groups formed. Stories were told about those who were no more. The torches were lit, and the whole plain in front of the walls of the farm lit up to the warm glow of dozens of flames, large and small, and from the embers in the cooking pits.

"Any chance you're gonna fly with the core of the Flock again? Gerte misses you, you know?" Giosualdo belched.

"Not for now. I have still things to do here. Can't really leave Master Sottile and the others alone." Garvino looked up at the sky. "Don't want to leave them, either. They are doing important stuff, stuff we can't risk leaving to the other idiots out there."

Giosualdo sighed. "Fair enough, we owe them enough that I won't complain. But those things you do." His eyes swept over the flock. "Do you need more help? The Servants opened a temple four days flight east from here last summer. A big stone building, full of art and stuff."

"They did what?" Garvino's head snapped around and he glared at Giosualdo.

"Yeah, we discovered it a couple of weeks ago. Were stopping there to gather a couple of other families before going at the Roc. They're preaching hard too. Got ponies in the streets, giving out food. You know, the usual stuff." A savage grin crept on Giosualdo's face. "One of them tried to do the whole thing to Gerte. She was so bored he got her even to listen to him for a while. And then stupidity bit him and he started to rave about how she shall submit to the powers that shall come, bow her head, and join in the whole adoration and obedience to the soonish-coming Bringers of Peace." A dark chuckle rose from his throat. "Giovanni had to convince Gerte to not try to impress the guy. Into a nearby wall. Then he had to talk to him about how this all had been an important learning experience about how to approach griffins and nothing worth being brought in front of the Concord."

Garvino stared into his mug, sighed, and stood up. "Another fill?"

Giosualdo emptied his own mug, bottoming up, then threw it to Garvino. "Always."

The walk to the barrels felt longer than it really was. Dark thoughts whirled around Garvino's head, and reining them in was becoming difficult. Now wasn't the time to entertain them. There was nothing he could do, and spoiling the Wind Whispering was bad luck anyway. He filled up the mugs. Despite the lingering warmth of the day, the beer was cool. He smiled.

All around him his Flock lived, drank, told stories, laughed, and wept. Some had pulled out the tambourines, and he was sure he had heard the sound of a lyre being tuned. As he sat down again the dark thoughts had been relegated to the back of his mind. There would be time for them.

He gave a mug to Giosualdo and said, "I don't think I'll need more help for now. The Servants may be many, but they're morons. All that talk about obedience rots their brains, they won't find us. Still, keep your eyes open, and if you're bored you can use one of the bait stories Master Sottile gave you. I'm sure you're gonna pull it off."

"Hah, telling stories to ponies? You bet I can. You know, I think we'll go south for a while. When we return I think I'll get wasted in some tavern, and you know how I am, can't keep my beak closed. A lot of ponies are gonna hear about the weird bunch of losers in the Thousand Reigns trying to hide a white and a dark filly while raving about hugs or something like that." Giosualdo drank a generous gulp and clicked his tongue. "Can't help it. It's one of my many, many faults."

"Would really be a shame if that happened. The Thousand Reigns are chaotic, dangerous, and so vast. Would take so many people to search through them. And years too." Garvino brought his mug to his beak. "But you are right. You have mountains of faults. It can't be helped."

A scandalized cry echoed through the air. "My honeybread!" Shortly after a laughing Geno passed in front of Garvino. He held something in his claw while proceeding in long jumps, occasionally flapping his wings to get a bit more speed. A couple of instants later Chryssi followed screaming, "That's mine. Give it back!"

Giosualdo followed Chryssi disappearing behind a group of chatting griffins. "You kinda understated the issues of that new filly of yours. I get it that Master Sottile collects weird people, but she's something else. Not the strangest thing I've seen in my life, but still, the trick with the tentacles ruffled a lot of feathers. What's up with her?"

Garvino sighed. "Thank you for defusing that situation, by the way. Regarding Chryssi, honestly, I've no idea and I'm too sober to even start guessing. Every time we think we figured her out, she does something new, or grows a new set of teeth, or starts walking on the ceiling,  and then we are back to scratching our heads. Willowbark thinks she's some kind of test sent by Harmony. Me, I look at what she does and leave it there. Celestia and Luna adore her, she's a good friend to them and she really, really tries to be normal." He chuckled. "Or as normal as it gets here."

"It's good that Geno hit off with her, though. He needs somebody able to hold its own against him who won't fold immediately." Giosuald reached out to one of the baskets and broke away a shard of the thin bread. "The others are too young. Couldn't even bring them here. They can't really oppose him, yet. And after that bonehead Graziano left with his own"– his face contorted in a grimace of disgust–"Flock, Geno was somehow convinced that he needed to always show off that he's on the top."

"Still no word on where they ended up?" Garvino kept his voice down. It had been the worst hit to the Flock in recent memory, and many were still touchy about it. It was a painful memory, either for the humiliation, or because sons and daughters had been lost to the idea of a new Flock out to get the glory the elders seemed too timid to conquer.

"Nope. We're flying south for that reason too. Giovanni thinks they may want to get into mercenary work down there. I don't know." Giosualdo emptied his mug. "I hope so. Could mean they are still alive. I really hope so, because then I can finally bash Graziano's head in like I should have done years ago."

"And then you're gonna hug him." Garvino held out a claw.

With closed eyes Giosualdo took it. "Damn right I'll hug him. That idiotic grandson of mine, that hotheaded moron. Taking away almost a whole generation. I'm gonna beat him, and hug him, and beat him again, and hug him…"

"Haha! Learn to fly if you wanna get me." Geno flapped over them with lazy wing strokes and blowing raspberries. A huffing Chryssi followed, jumping from time to time to try to grasp him.

Giosualdo sighed. "I guess I'll have to rein in Geno. It's time he learns to behave." He opened his claw and stood up, but Garvino didn't let him go.

"Stay, let's see how they'll handle it. Little Chryssi can be surprising, and I think he's underestimating her. It will be a good lesson for her on how to cope with people like Geno, and for him about how being too confident when you don't know your adversary is a bad idea." Garvino shouted to Chryssi, "Hey, little one, don't give up! Think very well about what you can do." He turned back to Giosualdo. "Believe me, it's gonna be fun."

Sitting down, Giosualdo said, "It's not gonna be too dangerous for Geno, right? What's she gonna do?"

Around Chryssi a circle of curious griffins had formed. She’d sat down and was scrunching her muzzle, glaring at a laughing Geno.

"No, we hammered in pretty well that she should never hurt somebody else. If I had to guess, I think she'll spit that green stuff at him and glue him down. She can remove it so it will leave just ruffled feathers and a bruised ego." Garvino looked in his empty mug and shrugged. "But maybe she'll do something else. Heh, maybe she'll sprout a pair of wings and–"

There was groaning and a cracking noise. Some of the griffins in the circle gasped as Chryssi arched her back, cracks appearing in the plates covering her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, she was clenching her jaw, some kind of liquid which seemed to glow in the light of the flames seeping out.

With a last cry, the plates broke open and two delicate gossamer wings unrolled. Shining drops fell from them as they vibrated. Chryssi, with heavy breath, sighed.

All around her the griffins stared. Geno had stopped laughing and was hanging in the air with open beak, his wings flapping mostly on their own.

Chryssi looked at the little griffon and squinted. She said, "Mine!" and her new wings became a blur as she shot upwards, clearly aiming for her prize and the rotten thief that was keeping it from her.

She missed completely. Her straight path became a wobbling attempt at correction and devolved into panicked screaming and mid-air tumbling that ended in a crash and the sound of splintering wood somewhere outside the circle of spectators. Ginevra was the first to move and flew towards the landing site. Fidelis followed close on her heels, and Geno and Giovanni came after him.

A thin voice rose in the night. "I'm fine, I think."

Garvino was pulled out from his stupor by the bellowing laughs from Giosualdo. He turned and saw the older griffon laying on his side and holding his belly.

"Sh-she really sprouted wings! Hahahahaha! She has a horn and wings! Is sh- is she the thing you were waiting for?" Giosualdo rolled on his back, kicking out with his hind-legs.

Garvino looked over the group of griffins that had gathered around the crash site. He gulped, then, trembling, raised his mug. It was empty. Obviously, it was empty. He longingly glanced at the barrels of beer standing over on the side, then sighed. He put his mug down and started to walk towards Chryssi while whispering, "By Harmony, I sure hope not."