Gilda's focus was on her arrowheads alone, and nothing else. Nor did they deserve anything less; it was a tricky thing, working such flawed scrap metal into sharpened arrowheads. They would need to hold an edge for at least one use, and hopefully more beyond. But her main issue didn't seem to be related to the tips or the fastenings of the arrows, so much as the material itself.
Her old arrows were made of sharp stones, sharpened to a deadly point, and presumably made of whatever she could find. Other arrows were tipped with fangs or sharpened bone, and some seemed to be made out of sharp shards of dark, glass-like stone. There was one that was a distinctive shade of red, which I realized a moment later was made of sharpened alicorn—which is to say, she had removed the horn of a pony, hopefully a hollow, and filed the tip down until it was just as deadly as the others. I was aware that ranged weapons, like a bow, required a great deal of upkeep for ammunition, but that also meant it was possible to make use of a wide variety of equipment depending on the circumstances one was faced with.
Steel, bronze, and iron were not so easy to work. While she had a proper grindstone available for use, it seemed as though Rockhoof heated his metal using crystals that channeled fire directly. Dinky even recharged a crystal while we waited, and I was able to watch her draw magic from the air itself into the crystal to rekindle it. All of this annoyed and confused Gilda—who had expected a proper forge instead of pony magic—which meant that when Pinkie arrived, Gilda was too focused on her own borrowed fire crystal and pile of glowing arrowheads to notice.
"Gilda?! Ohmigosh it is you! Hi!"
“Who—?” Gilda let out a startled squawk, and a gout of heat was squeezed out of the crystal, which crisped her brow. She dropped it into the mud as she slapped at her forehead, but as she spun to look at Pinkie, she suddenly froze, and her eyes went wide. “—ahhh…?”
Pinkie Pie was as radiant as ever, if not more so. She regarded Gilda as one would an old friend that hadn't been seen in decades, which may well have been true. And as always, Pinkie retained no concept of personal space, which meant that she shoved her own smiling face into Gilda's to get her attention as she spoke. She very much succeeded in doing that. "It's me, your old pal, Pinkie Pie! Remember how me and Dashie helped out in Gryphonstone all those times? How is Gryphonstone, anyway? I bet it's probably a bit more comfy than here, which is a weird thought, haha! Oh! How's Gabby, and Grandpa Gruff, and how're you? You never write! Or maybe you do, I don't think we really get the mail any more. Have you been writing?"
Gilda swallowed nervously, and her wings twitched as though she were considering how best to flee. It was unusual to see a predator displaying such clear intent to flee. "I...uh. I haven't been...uh. Writing. I didn’t think I needed to—"
Pinkie giggled, and leaned back—which caused the tension in Gilda's wings to visibly relax, just a bit. "Aww, silly, of course you didn't need to write, I just thought you might! Since it's more dangerous than usual here in Equestria right now. But you're you! So of course you came here yourself. I bet you've got some great stories about the journey here, right? But it's really cool that you came all the way out here to—wait! I didn't even ask, whatcha doing all the way out here, away from home? That's a really long journey, now that the trains aren't running. Did you come all the way out here on hoof? Or claw? Or wing?" Pinkie gasped suddenly. "Didja come all the way out here just to see me?! Awww, I missed you too, Gilda!"
Before Gilda even had the time to flinch, Pinkie wrapped her up in a tight, squeezing hug, with both her hooves and her bright pink wings. Gilda stiffened, a breath caught in her beak, and I could see that if she wasn't so tightly ensnared, that would have been the last straw. She was afraid of Pinkie, and wanted to get away, and now she couldn't. And that realization was causing her to start hyperventilating in panic, as she began to let out labored huffs through her beak. I was astonished, unable to recall any time I had seen the nigh-unflappable gryphon more flustered. I would have expected that reaction to her being faced with the Banshee, not a pony as friendly as Pinkie Pie.
"G—get—get off—get away from me!" Gilda squawked, shrill and panicky, as she tried to force Pinkie off her. Pinkie, to her credit, released Gilda instantly, and stepped back, even though she couldn't look more confused—and more than a little hurt—by Gilda's rejection. That expression only deepened as Gilda hopped back, and yowled, "Stop, alright?! Just—just stop! I'm not here for you—I didn't even think you'd be here. Guess all these other ponies kept you safe, because I know you wouldn't be able to handle it outside these walls."
Pinkie was hurt, but she was trying not to show it. "Oh...okay. So...maybe you're here for Dashie then? She's super busy as of late, I dunno if she'll have time to catch up with you...she never has time for me anymore—"
Gilda let out a snort. "We'll make time. I'm sure of that." She fluffed her feathers, preparing to take off, but never looked away from Pinkie. "Don't—don't follow me. Don't you dare. And don't try to stop me, or...or…" She clacked her beak in frustration. "Just don't, alright?!"
Pinkie was moments away from tears. "But...what did I…?"
Gilda took to the air, but paused above me and Dinky, to shout down, "Meet me outside the walls!" before she swooped away over the rooftops of the square. There was a distant gunshot as she startled one of the town militia, but one little bullet wouldn't have been enough to stop Gilda now, even if it had hit her.
As soon as she was gone, Pinkie dropped to her knees, despondent and confused. "But...but why...what did I…?"
Dinky and I wasted no time in moving to her sides, where Pinkie embraced us in her shaking wings, and we relished in her brilliant warmth. We had no answers for her, so we occupied ourselves with comforting the mare, while Rockhoof gave his best guess. "She's a gryphon, lass. Fair-weather friends at the best of times, every last one o' them. And there hasn't been fair weather in Equestria for a long time now."
"Rockhoof…" Magnus warned, in a magically-synthesized chiding tone.
"Aye? Prove me wrong, Mag. We e'er have a gryphon stick with us for longer than it took to get paid, or get their petty revenge? Back in the old days, or now? I can't remember any, off the top of my head."
"But..that wasn't…" Pinkie mumbled, in between sniffles."She was acting like I'd...I dunno, done something to wrong her specifically. She...she was afraid of me...w-why?"
"D-dunno," Dinky mumbled, against her side. "We'll ask her, w-when we meet her outside of t-town. There...has to be some r-reason."
"Well, make sure she gets these." Rockhoof swept the pile of scrap-metal arrowheads into a small burlap bag, which he tossed to me. "She left so quickly, she forgot to take those with her. Gryphon she might be, but I can't use 'em unless I melt them back down. Too much effort for too little metal."
I nodded, and pulled the bag closed, before pushing it into my own bottomless bag. Then, it was all we could do to huddle up against the burning warmth of Pinkie Pie, to try and comfort her.
* * *
Rockhoof finished his work on our gear not long after Gilda departed. With his blessing, as well as those of Magnus and a teary-eyed Pinkie Pie, Dinky and I headed for the gate out of town, closest to Canterlot. My repaired armor was lighter, cleaner, and, most importantly, it was once again protecting my Hollow body. Hopefully, I would be able to take better care of it this time.
Dinky struck up conversation, as we passed through the dilapidated streets of Ponyville. "I d-don't like your new fr-friend."
I nodded. "N-never seen her l-like that...s-surprised me, too."
"Where'd you f-find her? I've seen a f-few gryphons, but they're pr-pretty rare these days. And they w-were all Equestrian natives."
"B-Baltimare." I murmured quietly. "After we l-lost Merry M-May…"
Dinky's expression softened, and she turned her eyes forward again for a short distance. But her curiosity couldn't be restrained; eventually, she had to ask more questions. "Holly? I know y-you don't want to talk ab-about Baltimare. Whenever y-you do, I'll listen. B-but I do want to know one thing."
I swallowed. My mouth was perpetually dry—all the water in the world couldn't salve my long-dead throat.
"The th-things you did, that you don't w-want to talk about. Were they M-Maud's orders, or did they come from G-Gilda?"
It was the wrong question to ask, but Dinky couldn't know that. In asking it, she'd given me two outs. I could blame my actions on my superior, or the new addition that we'd trusted too much. I could even blame Raindrops, and she likely wouldn't bat an eye; she just wanted to blame somepony for hurting me, like how Gilda had just hurt Pinkie.
But none of it was true. My actions were my own, even when I'd lost control. Even when I'd gone Hollow, however briefly it may have been. I had done those things, not some alter ego hidden within, not some puppeteer like the Necromancers of Cloudsdale. And I wouldn't have Dinky blaming somepony—or someone, or even something—else in my stead. She deserved to know the truth.
"No," I rasped, and she turned to look at me. "My f-fault. My fault they went Hollow. K-killed others that c-couldn't Hollow. My f-fault...m-my hooves. I sh-should've gone Hollow too...should have st-stayed Hollow when I f-fell here. But I...I keep c-coming back...why…?"
Dinky tried to say something, but failed, and continued to fail for a few moments. I don't think she had any idea how to respond to that. Eventually, she gathered enough of her wits to ask, "How m-many times…? Meadowbrook s-said you were dangerously c-close, maybe two or th-three…"
"M-more than that," I mumbled. How many more? How many times had I died since that diagnosis? And still I returned, the fire within myself flaring hot once more to bring me back to life. Even when I lost myself, even when I went Hollow, the fire within gave me life anew. The Hollow curse that afflicted us all—it was worse for me, and me alone.
Dinky was realizing that now too. She looked at me, with her own Hollow eyes, and I saw something new in them. Curiosity—and fear. I was something new, something different...something dangerous. It was dangerous to be around me; the ponies around me kept going Hollow, while I continued on. I expected her to quit, when she understood that. I expected her to stop, and stay here in Ponyville, because as bad as it was here, it was still safer than going out into the world by my side.
But she shook her head, and sighed. "I wish I knew more about Pyromancy—or ponies. Twilight was right, and the Princess too. I should have listened to them." She looked back up the street, towards the distant wall, and the foggy sky beyond. "You, I understand least of all, Holly. Who you are, and what you are, or what's happened to you. But I believe in you, and I don't want you to give up. So I won't give up on you."
She smiled, and I felt my own fire flare within, just slightly.
"But I think you need to keep better friends,” she then said, breaking off the tender moment with a low sigh. “Apparently the ones you currently have are giving you some weird ideas. The Princess will know something, I'm sure. She always does. So, let's get moving to Canterlot, and if Gilda shows herself on the way, well...we'll see what she has to say for herself."
* * *
We didn't have to search for Gilda when we left Ponyville; she found us.
We passed through the gate easily enough—now that Applejack was no longer leading the militia and Dinky was once again the town's archmage, they snapped to attention as soon as we approached. They even saluted us as they opened the gates, and we left the town. We hadn't moved more than a hundred paces into the fog before Gilda swooped down from above, and fell into step at our side. She didn’t say anything, only glanced toward me with a steely gaze, the kind of look that said more than words could, and would defy any attempt to interject.
Dinky wasn't going to just let her join without comment, though, visibly bristling as she looked past me at the gryphon. "Oh no you don't! W-what the hay was that, back there?"
"What was what?" she asked gruffly.
"Pinkie! Y-you hurt her! W-why?"
Gilda shuddered, and looked back towards the town, as though she was afraid that Pinkie would be following right behind us. "I—look, I—"
Dinky jabbed me in the side. "St-stop. We're not g-going anywhere until sh-she gives us an explanation—and P-Pinkie an apology."
Gilda ruffled her feathers again. "That's not happening. If you're not coming with me, then I'll go by myself."
I looked between them, unsure who to follow, as Dinky stomped her hoof. "At least give us an explanation. I want to know why. Something I can tell Pinkie, next time I see her, so she understands why you hurt her."
Gilda shook for a moment, then let out a frustrated squawk. "I hurt her!' You keep saying that, like it means something! You know what hurts?" Gilda balled up her claw into a fist tight enough that her own talons drew dark blood. "That she doesn't know what happened to Gryphonstone. That she doesn't care enough to know. None of you rutting ponies know, or care to find out. Nopony told you, nopony went out to see, you're all so focused on your own problems that you can't even glance at what's happened to your supposed allies!"
Gilda took a deep breath, before adding, quietly, "That mare likes to talk a lot about promises. But when her friends break them, oh no, that's nothing, don't even ask…"
Dinky and I glanced at each other. After a moment, I cautiously asked, "W-what's happened to G-Gryphonstone…?"
"Nothing," Gilda spat. "Nothing that hasn't happened to the rest of the world, once you ponies got distracted, and stopped egg-sitting us."
After a long few moments, Gilda pushed past us, and started walking down the road through the fog. "I'm going to Canterlot, to remind somepony why you shouldn't break your promises. You can come with me, or not. It doesn't matter. I'll kill her all by myself, if I have to."
Dinky's rattling breath caught in her throat. "You—you're going to—you can't kill Rainbow Dash!"
The name was familiar to me. Magnus had mentioned her once, I was pretty sure...and I could almost remember a face… "Who…?" I mumbled, in confusion.
Dinky glanced at me. "You don't remember—? Of course you don't. She's a hero, one of the bearers. She was with the Wonderbolts until she got pulled into the Golden Guard, and protected us from the dragons—"
Gilda let out a loud snort at that, and started walking faster. We had to break into a gallop to catch up, but only trailed behind her, instead of walking alongside.
Dinky continued, as soon as we weren't about to lose Gilda in the fog. "She might've won the war all by herself! And now she's the Princess' personal guard! You can't kill her!"
Gilda exhaled sharply through her nose. "I don't care how tough she is," she saw Dinky starting to say something again, and cut her off. "Or how important she is to what's left of the country. You don't know her, how she really is. Not like I do."
"So you're going to kill her." Dinky said, her eyes narrowed.
"Or I'm going to die trying." Gilda nodded. "I get it—soft little ponies don't like killing. Hurts your delicate little hearts, oh no! That's not the pony way of solving problems!"
Gilda glanced back at us, and adjusted her bowstring against her breast with her sharp, predatory claws. "But I'm a gryphon, and this is the gryphon way of solving problems. Don't worry—I'll play nice 'til we get there, so you can see for yourself what Rainbow Dash is really like. Because, knowing her? By the time we get there, you're gonna wanna kill her too."
"That won't happen," Dinky said, though her voice wasn't as confident as it had been before.
"We'll see when we see, filly. It's not a bull's-eye until the arrow stops moving." After a moment, Gilda swore. "Damn! Left those arrowheads back in town."
"I have th-them," I said, as I shakily pulled them out of my bag. "R-Rockhoof didn't let us f-forget about them."
Gilda took the little bag of clinking sharp metal tips, and glanced inside. "Heh, that big horse is alright, for a stallion. Thanks, Holly. We're cool?"
I shrugged. I still didn't know what to make of Gilda—she had her own goals, her own problems, and they rubbed Dinky the wrong way. But I was still alright with being her friend.
Dinky sighed, and shook her head. "We need to get to Canterlot; we can agree on that, at least. But I'm not going to help you kill Rainbow Dash."
"That's fine, I don't need your help. You can cheer her on if you want. I know she'll want an audience, after all. Now, let's get moving."