Tom grit his beak as he felt the fresh wave of agony roll over his body, the sensations originating from his injured arm. It was incredibly unpleasant, but something told the man that it wasn't nearly as bad as it could be. There was a faint layer of film over everything, dulling his senses, while also lessening the pain he felt from the wound.
“Gonna need more of whatever the heck stopped the pain from being so intense pretty soon. Hopefully, it isn't morphine. I’d hate to get addicted,” Tom murmured to himself.
Glancing around the room Tom realized that he was in that rather primitive cabin he had seen from above. He could make out a few details through one of the two front-facing windows, like the large oak tree that he had nearly run into. There was also a small simple path that made its way up to the rather large covered porch that stuck out the front of the home.
That was about the only luxury the small house had, as the kitchen, dining room, and living area was all one single space. Tom could tell all this as he was laying in a cot that had been set up near one of the windows at the forefront of the home. From this angle, he could see most of the front yard, and a good amount of the home as well, including the other three rooms.
The trio of doors branched off from a hallway that started at the middle of the wall on the other side of the house and went back a few feet from there. Though he couldn't see a lot from his position, Tom could make out that one room had a chamber pot and a washbasin in it. Another was likely a master bedroom of some kind given the armoire he could see against the far wall.
The last space was less obvious, though it was definitely fairly small so Tom assumed it was either a child’s room or a pantry. As there wasn't any clear space to sock away any dried goods in the kitchen, given that there were only two small cupboards. The rest of the space was occupied by a wood-burning stove, a pile of cut-up logs, a rather simple table, and a few chairs. Nearby there was also a rather ratty-looking couch, as well as a card table that had seen a good amount of use.
Focus. What time is it, and what level of technology do they have? Tom thought to himself in an effort to direct his attention away from the pain he still felt.
He noticed that they had no manner of taps visible in the kitchen or the bathroom, meaning they likely had no running water. Though it was possible that they were simply too far from town, it didn't bode in the man’s mind. Furthermore, they had no clocks, nothing electric, or even a tool more complicated than a rather dull ax.
Ornamentation was also sparse, with the walls being mostly bare, though they had been lacquered at some point. The only thing that stood out was a couple of picture frames hanging near the hallway entrance. They seemed to depict two large families gathered together, and a third much smaller group of only three individuals. Everyone involved was a griffon like him, though their coloration varied considerably, ranging from bright blue to midnight black.
His musings were cut off when the door to the house opened up, and a towering male griffon walked inside.
“Wait outside a minute while I talk with our guest,” he whispered just loud enough for Tom to hear.
“Yes dear,” whispered a feminine voice from just outside.
The male then closed the door and walked over to Tom with an expectant look on his face.
“I saw ya movin around through the window, so I figured it's about time we spoke,” he began, his tone gruff, but not completely devoid of empathy.
“Feel free, sir,” Tom replied.
The griffon blinked. “Err okay. What happened to ya?”
“You likely already deduced this, but I was attacked by a wolf,” Tom explained, wincing slightly. “I dropped my guard for a moment and did something foolish.”
“Yeah that's what the doc and I were thinkin,” exclaimed the taller griffon.
Tom took a second to inspect his conversation partner a little closer, starting with his bright emerald eyes. The sight of which stirred something in Tom, though that feeling faded rapidly as his gaze traveled to the rest of the griffon. He was tall, wide, rippling with muscle, and was mostly a dark grey or black, with his feathers being slightly darker than his fur.
“Where are you from? Noone’s seen you in town before,” continued the other male.
“Pardon me, but before we continue would you mind giving me your name?” Tom interrupted. “I’m Tom.”
“Mine’s Gordon and yours is a bit on the strange side. Ain't Tom the name of a male chicken or something?” Gordon remarked, scratching the side of his head with a claw.
“I… don't know,” Tom admitted.
Gordon snorted. “It doesn't matter. Now answer my question.”
“I am not from around here, as you suspected,” Tom replied, pausing briefly as he considered what story to go with, and settling on amnesia. “In fact, I’m not sure where I’m from as the last thing I remember was waking up in the woods and that's about it.”
“Are you serious?” Gordon asked, his tone sounding accusatory, though his face was neutral.
Tom nodded. “I can't remember anything but my name.”
“Well, you sure don't seem to be lying,” Gordon muttered mostly to himself.
“I don't think I’m very good at it sir,” Tom replied with a shrug. “I tried to think of something less suspicious but came up with nothing.”
“Judging from how weirdly polite you’ve been I’d say you were probably raised by a bunch of ponies,” Gordon exclaimed.
Tom blinked. “Ponies?”
“It doesn't matter,” Gordon quickly dismissed. “What matters is what you intend on doing now.”
“Well, that depends on how much my leg has healed. It's only been what, twelve hours?” Tom replied.
“Probably a little closer to a full twenty-four,” Gordon explained.
“That is… odd,” Tom muttered to himself. Time must flow differently here than it does back home?
“Yeah you slept pretty long, and nothin could wake ya either. Not even sewing up the holes in your foreleg,” Gordon continued. “Doc thought you might have bumped your head as well but your skull was fine.”
“Finally, some good news,” Tom remarked to himself.
“So,” Gordon cleared his throat. “You should heal up almost completely in a day or so, but after that, you owe me one. Normally I wouldn't explain this to a fellow griffon, but I was honor-bound to help you, but once you can get around normally you have to pay me back.”
“Sounds fair,” Tom reasoned.
“Normally I can name whatever price I want considering I also paid the doc for his services,” Gordon continued. “Some might have demanded a year and a day of labor from you but my family enjoys its privacy so I’ll ask something simpler of ya.”
Well, that's good. I don't know what I’d do if I ended up an indentured servant for a year. Tom thought to himself. At least my nights would be uneventful, if as stressful as my days.
“I want you to hunt down that wolf that got ya. Then I want you to kill it and bring it back here,” Gordon stated. “It tasted blood now and is a danger to the whole community. Taking it down would help you regain your own honor, and the pelt would net me a fine sum at the market.”
I wonder just how much such a thing would go for. Tom thought to himself, only to dismiss the idea. I’m in no position to bargain.
“And in the meantime, you’ll keep feeding me and giving me a place to rest I presume?” Tom pressed.
Gordon nodded slowly. “Don't think I’ll be spoiling you or nothing. The most you’ll get is soup or oatmeal.”
“That's perfectly acceptable,” Tom replied, only to wince and clutch his stomach. “Speaking of food and water…”
“I’ll get the missus in here to whip us up some grub and say hello,” Gordon announced before turning right around and trotting back to the door.
After slipping outside he began engaging in a low, hushed conversation with the female waiting for him. Tom was about to turn away from the window when he noticed a small face peeking up at him from close by. Glancing down at it, he noticed that there was a young, probably only three-year-old griffon peering up at him with curious grey eyes.
Her features were rounded in the kind of way that all kids were, their bodies having yet to fully grow into things. They were also instantly recognizable as female, due to their slightly longer eyelashes and general bearing about them. They were also much more physically brighter than their presumed father and sported sapphire feathers and fur while their primaries were an electric blue color.
So cute! Tom thought to himself.
Upon getting spotted, the face vanished, leaving Tom to chuckle as the child scampered away to their parents. Now alone once more, Tom pulled back the covers to inspect his injury while his hosts chatted just outside the door. Only to find that the wrappings were so thick that he could see very little, save for the blood which had soaked into the bandages.
It still hurt, incredibly so, but whatever painkiller they had used on him was still working. Tom silently hoped that they had more of the stuff, as something told him that when it wore off he would be in unbearable agony. Those thoughts were brushed aside when the door to the house opened, and the entire family stepped back into their home.
Gordon was first to emerge, though he took a step back, allowing a slightly smaller, female griffon to enter. This one was also noticeably feminine, as her face was more curved, her beak slightly shorter, and her talons not quite so large. She also had a grey coloration with the odd blue feather which peppered her wings and the back of her head. Her eyes were a vibrant teal and contained within them a sharp, judgemental look, though one that didn't last long.
“My husband says you don't have any memories. Is this true?” she asked.
“It is, I’m afraid,” Tom replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Other than my name I can't remember where I came from, or even where I am now for that matter.”
“Well most folks around here refer to this place as the village of Evergreen,” replied the female in a scholarly tone. “Though it has yet to grow large enough to even really earn it an official designation.”
“I’m sure that will change once those loggers come in,” Gordon remarked.
“If they ever do,” countered his wife.
The larger griffon snorted. “Ain't that the truth.”
“I’m sorry, what was your name? And what do you call the little one, other than adorable?” Tom asked, gesturing between the female’s legs to where the smallest of the three griffons was hiding.
“Eep,” she cried, ducking further back behind her mother.
“This little one is Gretchen,” Gordon proudly proclaimed. “And she should remember what it is to be a griffon. You must be bold, child!”
He gently, yet firmly pushed the kid in front of the three of them, causing her to qual in fear.
“Oh um, hi,” Gretchen murmured.
“My name is Griselda, and little Gretchen here is just a little shy, but don't worry. She’ll warm up to you real quick,” Griselda stated, clapping her claws together. “Now then. Let's get some food in us. You’re likely pretty hungry given how long you’ve been sleeping.”
“I wouldn't want to be rude,” Tom muttered, a clawed hand grabbing his rumbling stomach. “But I am starving.”
“Just give me a holler when it's all ready. I gotta get some more firewood chopped or else old man Gerkin is going to give me an earful tomorrow,” Gordon exclaimed, walking out the door before anyone could even respond to him.
“I hope you don't mind soup. We aren't exactly well off out here,” Griselda claimed as she threw a new log into the stove, and placed a pot of water atop it.
“I’m about a step away from chewing on the carpets so anything right now would be nice,” Tom replied.
Griselda chuckled as she began rooting around in one of their few cupboards. “Now then, where did I leave those onions I found in the woods a few days ago…”
Tom sat back down and sighed, relief washing over him.
He had food, he was safe, he was healing, and his saviors apparently had some kind of advanced knowledge of medicine. A good thing too, as something told the man that it would have taken months for such a nasty injury to fully heal. He was not happy about the quest that had been all but thrust upon him, but even that wasn't the worst outcome he had considered.
“So,” murmured a soft voice. “You don't remember anything at all?”
Tom shook his head. “Not a thing.”
“Do you know what… a unicorn is?” inquired Gretchen, taking a step closer to the man.
“They’ve got a horn right?” Tom asked, pretending that it had taken considerable effort just to remember such a small, inconsequential detail.
“What about Griffonstone, do you know where that is?” Gretchen pressed on.
Tom shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“What? Really!” Gretchen shrieked, clawed hands flying into the air. “But it's the capital of the empire. You gotta know that one.”
Tom shrugged. “Not a clue.”
“Well it's this big place to the east that's really high on this mountain and-” Gretchen continued, explaining more and more about this mysterious city that had at one time been their people’s greatest metropolis.
Huh. Well, I guess it will be easier than I thought to find out more about this world. Hopefully, this kid’s weirdly encyclopedic knowledge extends to things beyond just cities. Tom thought to himself. I guess I’ll have to quiz her and find out.