//------------------------------// // Birds of Prey // Story: Three Birds With One Swat // by Reviewfilly //------------------------------// In the middle of a small forest, inside a decrepit house, three griffons sat in silence. The walls of the small shack they had converted into a hideout groaned from the wind, sometimes masking, sometimes accentuating the muffled groans of pain and pleas emanating from the the bound figure laying on the ground between the birds. She had likely been a white pegasus once, though right now her coat’s color was a wild mix of dirt brown and blood red. Her rope-bound hooves vainly tried to break their bindings as her huge, dark green eyes darted between her assailants in fear. Next to the captive pony the ruins of a torn-apart saddlebag lay on the floor, like the strewn-open remains of a gutted animal. Its contents - nothing of great value, just a few flowers and trinkets - haphazardly spilled out and rummaged through. “So,” began the biggest of the trio, breaking the silence. He stopped for a moment and scratched under a gray feather, unsure how to continue. “What should we even do with her?” he finally asked. “Let's be honest, Gerard, this was a total bust. Let’s just throw her into a slum and look for another hit,” offered the one sitting on his right. “Oh, that’s a splendid idea, Gerson,” Gerard replied in an unmistakably lecturing tone. “Let’s fly into a pony city and dump a bruised-up pegasus among them. Surely nogriff will ask any questions!” He massaged his temple with two claws. “Did you fall out of your nest as a chick and hit your head or what?” Gerson scoffed. “Don’t think me an idiot, old bird. I meant at night, in secret. I thought this much was obvious.” Gerard was about to reply, when the third figure, who until now sat in silence, tapped a claw on a small table nearby. The other two stopped scowling at each other and stared at the source of the noise. “I say we just cut her neck and bury her in the forest,” the third griffon spoke in a calm voice. The pegasus, who until now had all but stopped struggling, renewed her vicious yet no less hopeless struggle against the ropes. Though the rag in her mouth stopped her from speaking, her fearful voice continued to quietly beg in words incomprehensible. “Ginerva… Hold your bloodlust,” Gerard replied quietly as he stared at his talons and then the squirming figure below. “This was a loot run. For coin, not blood. Can’t help that she’s dry. Not to mention, she’s bruised, broken, and couldn’t even fight a chick in such a state. While I agree that just letting her go would be a cubish idea —” he tipped his head almost imperceptibly towards Gerson, who caught on the gesture and shot him a hateful glare “— she is not good prey. You know the rules. We cannot kill her.” “Oh, swallow your pellet,” she spat back. “My eggshell cares about her being ‘good prey’. If we don’t kill her now, she’s gonna chew us out and then we can spend the next two years running from the guards!” Her wings flapped angrily. “She, uhm, she has a point,” Gerson spoke again. He couldn’t care less about the fate of the pegasus, but the positions in the the room were shifting and he intended to align himself with the stronger one. “Let’s just off her and be done with it.” “Oh, you backstabbing little whelp!” Gerard's dark eyes penetrated Gerson’s matte blue feathers deeper than even his razor-sharp claws could have. “Have you no respect for your elders? I was already hunting while you hadn’t even broken out of your egg yet!” “And old age made you soft and sentimental,” Ginerva interjected before their petty argument could erupt in full flame. “We’re in Equestria now. The tenets of the hunt don’t hold here. Not to mention, it’s two against one. Respect the group’s decision.” Gerard looked at the pony in front of him as she continued to weakly try to break her ties, panting into the rag from exhaustion. She was a pitiful thing, killing her would be deeply dishonorable and an affront to his ancestors. Helpless prey should never be killed for the sake of murder, only to chase away hunger. It was a rule. “So, are we gonna have a problem or not?” asked the griffoness. And yet he couldn’t completely disagree with the others. Leaving her alive would be too much of a risk for three griffons trying to survive in pony territory. “No,” he replied quietly after a few seconds. “I will not stop you, but I want no part in it.” “Oh, is the old hunter scared of a bit of blood?” Ginerva snickered. Gerard opened his beak to reply, but she shot him down with a wave of her hand. “Calm down, I’m just pulling your feathers. If you’d really rather sit here all day, suit yourself.” She then turned towards Gerson. “Well go on then, bring her outside. I don’t want to smell her stench for weeks.” The smaller griffon rolled his eyes, but then he easily heaved the pony onto his shoulder. After a quick nod from Ginerva, the duo left the room, leaving Gerard to himself. He waited until the door closed behind them, then looked to the side and spat. “Disgusting,” he muttered. Still, he made his choice and there was nothing to be done about it now. Hopefully no one would notice the absence of a single pegasus and even if they did, his pack had been careful not to leave tracks. This should’ve been it. The necessity of the murder was unfortunate, but such was life and the urge to survive triumphed even above the rules of the hunt. Still, Gerard felt an uneasy itch on himself. It was an evolutionary tingling that alerted his kind of danger for millennia. Something did not add up. The reason why they even bothered with kidnapping a single pony was because their informant, Gavallo - that bastard, Gerard added in his mind - swore on his grandfather’s feathers that the mare was an easy and valuable target. And until now his tips were always correct and precise. But this time things just did not click as well as they usually did. A single pony walking outside the city, apparently carrying enough treasure to be worth splitting by three griffons, even after paying the informant’s cut. Also, there was his odd insistence that they needed not worry about her being a pegasus and that she had no means of defending herself. If only Ginerva didn’t immediately say yes and that featherbrain Gerson didn’t double down right afterwards! I need them like gnats in my fur, he thought bitterly. I swear by the Four Winds that hunting for rabbits on the Screaming Peaks was a more pleasant livelihood than this. No, he couldn’t get distracted right now by cursing his half-witted crew. He forced his mind to focus and a few moments later his predatory intellect finally crunched through all the possibilities. His eyes went wide. Thinking through the events analytically provided him with one clear conclusion: Everything was just too convenient. He buried his face into his palms. This was not a job. This was a trap. And they walked straight into it. There was no time to waste. Ignoring his old age, Gerard shot out from his crouch with great speed and a moment later he was at the door. He ripped it open and darted out into the dusty field doubling as a courtyard behind the shack. He looked behind himself. Beyond the old house he saw only gently swaying trees as far as his eyes could see. No sign of intrusion. He turned back and took off. As he flew he focused on his hearing. Beneath the whispering winds, he caught the noise of his partners’ faint voices. Doubling his speed, Gerard rushed towards them, not noticing the black-clad figures eyeing him from the underbrush.