//------------------------------// // Sacrifice // Story: The Ties That Bind // by Scyphi //------------------------------// As night continued to fall outside, they all settled inside the underused home to wait for the airship coming to get them. Ditzy took the chance to finally break open the box of Night Guard rations and passed them out to everybody to eat, revealing them to be prepackaged nutrient bars. Though a welcomed distraction that took Gallus’s mind off of things for a moment, and he didn’t doubt her claims that they were nourishing and full of nutrients, he still found the bars stiff and difficult to bite into swallowable sizes, something that wasn’t helped by him having a toothless beak. And even then, once fully eaten, the chewed bars sat heavily in his belly, so much so that he couldn’t imagine what lengths his poor stomach and gizzard would have to go to so to turn the dense ball into something useable. Still, food of any sort was very welcomed for Gallus, starting to run on empty, so he ate it without protest anyway. “You know, it’s probably going to be awhile still before our ride tracks my transponder to here,” Ditzy commented aloud to him after the rations were eaten. “So you might as well take the time to try and get some shut eye while we wait.” Gallus snorted, amused. “As much as I’d like to, Ditzy, my brain’s still whirling around too much to try.” Ditzy eyed him for a second then sat down beside him, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “How are you taking all this anyway?” she asked gently. “I genuinely don’t know,” Gallus admitted but wishing he did. He held out his paws helplessly. “On one side, I finally feel like I have most of the puzzle pieces, but on the other…” he trailed off. “…you’re not sure you like the picture it forms,” Ditzy finished for him, nodding her head in understanding. “I wish there was something I could do to make it better, but unfortunately I can’t change what happened.” “Yeah,” Gallus said with a sigh, “that’s what stinks the most about this.” Ditzy breathed a sigh herself. “If you want to talk about it…” “Thanks, but…” Gallus hesitated, pondering how to phrase it. “…I need to think this through by myself.” He gazed around at his surroundings for a moment. He was still sitting in the living room having never left after Gruff had, and realized there was someone he hadn’t seen in a little bit. “Where did Spike go?” “He should be exploring upstairs,” Ditzy replied. She gave him a weak grin. “He needed something to do too.” “Or just some place to be alone for a bit,” Gallus mumbled to himself. Nevertheless, he decided to stand up, stretching his legs. “I’m going to go find him.” Ditzy didn’t object and let him go, despite there being ample reason to think Spike might want to be left to himself. Maybe she knew something he didn’t—Gallus wasn’t totally sure with that mare anymore. Whatever the case, he idly wandered upstairs. The upper floor of the house wasn’t anything special, and all said, only contained a lonely hallway connecting to four rooms—two bedrooms, a small bathroom, and a hall closet. Though like everything else in the house, everything these rooms contained had been packed up for storage. Figuring out which room Spike had entered wasn’t hard, as it was the only one of the rooms with its door left open, leading into the bedroom that faced the rear of the house. Peeking inside revealed Spike seated on the floor, having opened a couple of the storage boxes and listlessly sifting through their contents. As Gallus strolled up to him, he saw the little dragon had uncovered and was gazing forlornly at a framed family photo, one he couldn’t recall seeing in the photo album. It pictured Spark, Gwen, and his younger self all posing around Spike’s egg, probably not long after it’d been laid. With a jolt, Gallus realized the picture had to have been taken not long before everything turned for the worst, shattering the little family. Not that you could tell though—everyone pictured seemed quite happy at the time, but that only made it all the more bittersweet to realize. It also made Gallus worry about Spike, watching the dragon take in the picture and look unusually subdued. Except for Gallus’s younger image, there was little recognition in Spike’s eyes for the creatures it portrayed—Gallus realized he didn’t know them like he must have, and the thought suddenly saddened him. Without really thinking about it, he wrapped a wing around the little dragon in a show of comfort, which Spike silently accepted without objection. “Can you really miss someone you never knew?” he asked Gallus after a moment. Gallus didn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m sure, wherever they are now in the grand scheme of things, they miss you,” he said instead, though it felt like a pretty empty platitude once he heard it aloud. Spike merely hummed to himself and didn’t remark on it. “At least you had the chance to know them,” he noted after another pause. Gallus frowned, gazing at the picture for a moment. “Not that I really remember any of it.” “Honestly…I’m not sure whether to envy you or to pity you for that,” Spike mumbled. The miserable thought chilled Gallus somewhat, so he opted to change the subject. “You know, you probably should’ve asked before going through another creature’s things,” he remarked in a mildly teasing tone, showing he wasn’t holding it against him. “Fair point,” Spike relented, unfazed, setting the picture down before looking up at Gallus. “Can I?” Gallus smirked. “What are you asking me for?” “Because I’m pretty sure these were supposed to be your things.” And for emphasis, he slid the box closer so Gallus could see too. Surprised by the implication, Gallus couldn’t help peering into the box and immediately note Spike had a point—all of the items within were mostly for a youth around the age he had been at the time, namely in the form of toys. They were all fairly routine things, like building blocks, a wooden top, a miniature carriage, and even one of those things where you stacked rings on top of each other. But as Gallus reached into the box and pulled out a couple to examine, he found that, like everything else in this house, he didn’t feel like he recognized any of them yet still got a surreal sense of attachment like he should. There wasn’t really any reason to doubt Spike about them having been his though, particularly when he had to chuckle a little at a rubber ball that’d been gnawed on by a little beak that could’ve only been his. Returning them all to the box, he stopped to gaze around the room in more detail, taking it in. Most of it was just boxes or emptied shelves, but to one side he noticed the parts of a disassembled crib propped up against the wall and wandered over to it. Was this my room? He thought to himself, popping open another box full of linens that sat next to the crib. He ran his talons over a soft baby blanket neatly folded on the top. Had I once snuggled to sleep with this blanket? He found himself reverently pulling it out and wrapping his forelegs around it. Pressing it into his chest, he buried his beak into it, breathing in its scent. Even after all this time, he could still make out a friendly smell on it that tickled his synapses with familiarity. Feeling overwhelmed, he stopped and forced himself to return the blanket to its box. “This is weird,” he muttered as he closed it up again. “I’ll bet,” Spike agreed from where he’d been watching Gallus. “If I’m feeling weirded out by it all, I can’t even picture how you must be feeling.” Yet another thing Gallus couldn’t begin to know how to respond to, so he didn’t. He instead continued wandering around, taking in the room and trying to understand how it was making him feel. When that started to overwhelm his senses and feeling another emotional breakdown forming, he swiftly turned his attention to the window and focused on what was outside, in hopes of distracting his mind. Instead, he laid eye on something far more significant out in the backyard that he should’ve known would be there, but nonetheless nearly made his heart leap up his throat and out his mouth at the sight of it. He immediately spun around and started for the door. “Hey, if you need anything, just shout for Ditzy, ’kay?” he told Spike, who had begun sifting through boxes again. Spike glanced up at him with a frown, probably sensing something wrong. “Where are you going?” he asked. Gallus ruffled his spines as he passed. “Don’t you worry about that,” he assured him with a forced grin and continued on his way, hoping Spike wouldn’t follow. He didn’t. Good, because facing this is probably the last thing he needs right now, Gallus thought to himself. He, meanwhile, didn’t stop until he had slipped out the house’s backdoor and taken a few steps out into the yard. There, he sat down and simply stared with a solemn gaze. He’d found Spark’s greenhouse. Or rather, what was left of it. Its stone foundation was still there, neatly framing the area and still blackened with soot. Weeds and other wild growth had attempted to grow and consume the scorched land, but even after more than a decade to try, it’d made shoddy progress at doing so. Fragments of burnt wood still littered the area, the remains of the greenhouse’s wooden frame and probably tables or other shelves it’d once contained, but fire and age had caused it all to degrade enough it would be impossible to determine exactly where each crumbling piece had gone. But most important of all, placed in the center of it all, was a grave. It was marked by a slab of flat stone used as a makeshift headstone. Etched haphazardly but caringly into it were the following names: GWEN + GALLUS And Gallus could just sit there and look on at the surreal sight, the significance of it all hitting him like a ton of bricks. He remained like that in silence for a long time—he wasn’t sure how long. He kept feeling like he should say something, but couldn’t begin to figure out what or how. And it felt like he was somehow intruding anyway. So he just kept sitting there in reverent silence at what felt like a respectable distance from the grave. “I figured you’d eventually find your way out here, boy.” Gallus twisted around to find Gruff standing on the back porch, watching him. A part of him was annoyed the older griffon was here, but he didn’t have any fight left to protest. So he simply just huffed and turned his attention back to the grave. He didn’t object when Gruff slowly stepped over and joined him, sitting down beside him. They sat there quietly for a moment. “Look, I know you hate how I handled this,” Gruff finally started to speak without warning. “And I know you hated the life on the streets you wound up in. But it was still a life you had made your own, and you were still…content enough. You’d moved on, in other words. I didn’t think you needed me dragging you back into things long past that neither of us could change anyway, to be weighed down by the misery of knowing what was lost.” He sighed. “But I never stopped to think that meant you were being weighed down far more by not knowing instead.” “You could’ve at least acted like you cared then,” Gallus pointed out grumpily. Gruff averted his gaze. “I was a stranger to you though. And I thought if I was too…chummy…with you, you or others might suspect something, start prying into things I wanted you kept out of.” “So you acted like a jerk to me, to keep me at wing’s length,” Gallus concluded coldly, “Turning you into an actual jerk when I found out anyway.” Gruff scowled. “You know, you didn’t always help yourself,” he stressed. “There were times I was ripping my own feathers out because you’d gone and made a scene or taken huge risks for yourself over nothing.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll admit, I was about fed up with your antics, ready to just leave you to fate…but then I found out what these cretins were planning to do to you, and…” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid but nevertheless clear. Gallus bowed his head in sorrow. “I know you had good intentions for doing what you did, Gruff,” he relented. “But even now that I understand why, it sure as heck didn’t feel like it to me.” “…I know,” Gruff agreed, his voice heavy. “I suppose you deserve better than an old coot like me anyway.” He averted his gaze. “I was never good at this sort of thing.” The statement was self-depraving, but Gallus bitterly found he couldn’t bring himself to object. So another round of silence fell upon the pair, continuing to take in the headstone. “Can’t say I’ve ever visited my own grave before,” Gallus remarked sarcastically after a moment. Gruff snorted. “We genuinely thought you’d perished with her,” he explained. “So much so, we never really considered otherwise.” He bowed his head. “Now I wish we had, of course.” Gallus shook his head. “You know, I don’t understand…how did I escape it?” “Unfortunately, you would know better than I would,” Gruff admitted sadly, “since I was the one who wasn’t there to see it happen.” “I don’t remember it at all, though.” Gallus bit his tongue, suddenly feeling shame. “I think…I think I may have blocked it out.” “Can’t say I blame you—the trauma of it all must’ve been horrible to deal with.” But Gallus found himself wanting to know anyway. “What happened that night, Gruff?” “I already told you.” “Not in detail.” Gruff turned his head so to see him better with his good eye. “You don’t want to know about that.” Gallus glanced back at him resolutely. “Tell me anyway.” Gruff was silent for a moment. “All evidence suggests Gwen was in the middle of putting you in bed when they came bursting into the home,” he began finally with a heavy sigh. “We figured there were up to five or so of them in total. It’d been raining off and on that whole week, so it being stormy and overcast that night gave them ample cover to sneak up to the house undetected with. Since the house isn’t that big, it didn’t take them long to hunt you two down. Gwen seemed to have put up quite a fight, even managed to take out one of them and got the others briefly trapped in a room…but she was outnumbered, and at some point they’d injured her good—she’d left a trail of blood leading out of the house towards here.” Gruff looked to the remains of the greenhouse. “She had grabbed her cloak, a saddlebag, and of course you and your carrier pouch strapped to her back. Spark grew some fruit and vegetables in the greenhouse, so she had almost certainly gone inside to quickly grab what supplies she could then escape. But the surviving attackers caught up to her here. And injured as she already was…” Gruff bowed his head. “…she probably didn’t last long. And once they had her down, they set fire to the greenhouse, both to finish the job and probably to cover their tracks.” He motioned at the remains with one paw. “As you can see for yourself, it burned to the ground.” His gaze turned far away, reliving the memories. “Like I said before, Spark and I didn’t get here until two days later. It was pouring rain when we did, which only made it all seem worse, not just because the rain washed away some of the details but also for how gloomy it made everything.” He fell silent for another moment. “I was the first one to find her. But I couldn’t bring myself to shout for Spark, knowing how he’d take it, so I just sort of stood there helplessly until Spark saw me and came to see for himself.” Gruff licked the sides of his beak uncomfortably. “He’d…he’d just sort of stood there too shocked to move for a moment. Then he shooed me away and proceeded to dig a grave, bury her, and make that gravestone all on his own. He didn’t stop once until he’d finished, stone-faced all the way through. But once he had, he dropped to his knees…and he just wept. For hours.” He closed his eyes, as if pained. “I’d never seen a creature look so broken like he had then.” A heavy silence fell for a moment between them. Gallus stared at the grave, envisioning the tragic sight in his head. “Did he regret leaving them—us—here?” he asked after a moment, needing to know. Gruff hesitated, conflicted. “He never said.” But Gallus wondered if Spark even really needed to by that point. “It was only after he’d cried himself out that we made the plan to get to Equestria and meet with Princess Celestia,” Gruff then continued, almost like an afterthought. His gaze turned distant. “But obviously we never made that meeting…I’ve wondered sometimes what the princess must’ve thought about that…” He shook his head. “Anyway…after seeing Spark like that and what followed, I’ve felt obligated to keep coming up here ever since to make sure nobody’s broken in or anything bad happened to the house…I suppose because I felt I owed it to them. Of course, I’d asked myself sometimes why it mattered, considering nobody was coming back for it…but I’m glad I did anyway.” Gallus chose not to admit it aloud…but he was glad Gruff had done so too. It just…felt right. Meanwhile, Gruff gazed at the grave sadly for a long moment. “You know what probably bothers me the most about all of this?” he asked, looking at Gallus again, “…they both died probably thinking you were already gone too…when you weren’t really. And I just wish…they at least had that small comfort when…” he trailed off. He didn’t need to finish anyway. Gallus turned this all over in his head, not sure if he really felt any better or worse now that Gruff had told him it. “What were they like?” he asked suddenly after a moment. “Spark and Gwen?” Gruff considered how to respond. “Well, Spark was something of a gentle giant, I suppose. He looked big and tough, but he was usually more curious and preferring to avoid a fight.” He made a soft chuckle. “That said, he was still dragon enough that, if you ticked him off, he’d still swing a punch at you.” He ran a paw over one side of his face as if feeling the ghost of a pain there. “Something I had to learn the hard way.” Gallus’s eyebrows shot up. “He punched you?” “In his defense, I deserved it,” Gruff admitted. “I’d insinuated he didn’t deserve Gwen not long after they’d hooked up. But that was also around when I figured out I was wrong.” He made a small smile. “He was almost always by her side, so eager to help her with anything she needed from him that it was obvious he loved her dearly…and she loved him just as much too.” He shook his head and got back on topic. “As for Gwen, well, she was a lot like you, really. Proud and stubborn to a fault, but also intelligent and…with a heart of gold.” Gallus needed another moment to mull that over. On one side, he felt pleased hearing they were both such good creatures and somewhat flattered to be compared so favorably to Gwen by Gruff, but it also made his eyes water for the lost creatures. “I wish I could meet them,” he mumbled aloud. “I’m sure they would too, boy,” Gruff replied, “and I wish you could remember more about them because they cared for you deeply. Gwen often called you two her little miracles.” He inhaled sharply. “They’d be delighted to know you and Spike both survived.” Gallus frowned at that though. “Yeah, but I still don’t understand that,” he admitted to Gruff. “How did I survive that night? And why did both you and the attackers think I hadn’t? Shouldn’t it have been obvious that I wasn’t there?” “The carrier pouch was hooded, so I figure the attackers noted something was in there and just assumed it was you. Given the circumstances, they probably figured that was a safe bet. Honestly, it should’ve been. And as for me and Spark…” Gruff shifted uncomfortably. “Gallus, Gwen’s remains had all but burned to a crisp, including the carrier pouch you were supposed to be in,” he explained coldly. “We were lucky to even be able to identify her from what remained, so even though we already had no reason to assume the charred remains in the carrier weren’t you, it would’ve been difficult to tell anyway without…without unpleasant examinations neither of us wished to do. It’d seemed…disrespectful…at the time.” Gallus’s brow furrowed. “But there were remains in the carrier?” he repeated to confirm, before turning confused once Gruff nodded. “But if it wasn’t actually me, then…whose remains was it?” Gruff opened his beak to reply, but then shut it again, as if realizing the problem for the first time. “I don’t know,” was all he could say. He mulled it over for a second longer. Gallus got the impression it was really the first time Gruff had put much thought into it. Finally, he shrugged. “Well…I remember Spark complaining once about how critters kept trying to sneak into the greenhouse, so…maybe it was one of them?” That only further confused Gallus. “But then why was it in the carrier?” he challenged, shooting down that theory. “Wouldn’t it try to escape the fire instead?” “Not unless it was already dead.” “That still doesn’t explain why it was there or where I was.” “I suppose you managed to slip away before the flames reached you.” Gruff shrugged again. “Does it really matter in the end if you survived anyway?” Gallus nodded. “It matters to me,” he assured and continued to turn the problem over in his head. He finally pulled his attention off of the gravestone so to give the surviving foundation of the greenhouse another pass with his eyes. It didn’t quite form a complete square, as there was an opening in its front to accommodate what had once been a doorway. But looking past the gravestone, he suddenly realized for the first time that a similar gap was in the back of the foundation too, suggesting the greenhouse also had a back door. He lifted his gaze to take in the rest of the dark backyard and suddenly felt that sickening feeling of déjà vu for something his mind didn’t want to remember. Gallus latched onto it like a lifeline though, feeling it held the key. “Gruff,” he began slowly, nudging the other griffon, “was there anything else to this backyard?” Gruff glanced around the weed-filled lot of land. “After the greenhouse, nothing too important,” he admitted. “There wasn’t much need out here.” Gallus still wasn’t convinced of that and scanned the yard for more mental nudges. He got one that gave him a sense of dread upon spotting a gap between a pair of trees leading up a small hill. With a start, he realized what it was. “Wasn’t there still a path leading to something up that hill?” he asked, starting to step around the grave and heading towards it. Gruff watched him, confused. “I suppose there was,” he admitted, “but I don’t see how it fits into this. All it leads to is a couple things Gwen and Spark used to temporarily store their catches, like a small game locker.” He grumpily started to chase after Gallus as the younger griffon began up the grown-over path anyway. “Nobody’s been up there in years, boy!” But Gallus went anyway, because something about the path was drudging up a sense of dread, fear, and misery deep within him, and despite his mind wanting absolutely nothing more than to stay as far away from it as it could, he pushed himself towards it, recognizing that there was a reason it made him feel like that. “Did those attackers ever make it up here?” he asked as they reached the crest of the small hill. There it opened up into another much smaller clearing, this one naturally formed. “I doubt it,” Gruff replied, thoroughly confused as to where he was going with all of this. “What they were looking for was never up here.” But Gallus was surveying the clearing slowly, heart thumping in fear. It was actually a totally innocent looking clearing, the only obvious decoration being the abandoned and deteriorating box-like game locker Gruff had mentioned, but he found himself absolutely hating everything about the space nonetheless, even more being in it. A nagging thought in his mind told him he’d seen something like this clearing plenty of times in half-remembered nightmares…but instinct told him it ran deeper than that. Focusing on the game locker then, he started towards it. Gruff scoffed at him doing so. “Don’t bother,” he advised as Gallus went to pull open its door. “Anything left in there would have rotted away ages ago.” Peeking inside, Gallus found Gruff was absolutely right. All that remained was the rotted skeletons of caught prey littering most of the locker due to the negligence it’d been left in since the death of its owners. Looking into the locker still stirred something within him though, and he started to turn around when he caught sight of the inside of the locker door. “Gruff,” he called, prompting the griffon closer while holding the door open so he could see too. Gruff remained skeptical until he saw what Gallus was looking at, his eyes widening. It was faded and browned, but the bloodied paw print left from holding the door open long ago was still plainly visible. It clearly had belonged to an adult griffon, with the slender shape of the talons suggesting a female. Gruff inhaled sharply as he realized who it must’ve belonged to. “No,” he breathed, trying to understand. “But…why would she have gone up here, just to double back?” Gallus looked back at the decayed catches in the locker, all medium-sized woodland creatures. Most of them had been hung from hooks dangling from the ceiling. But while not all of the hooks were in use when it was abandoned, particularly those in the back, Gallus couldn’t help but notice the left front most hook was conspicuously clean and empty. “Gruff, didn’t you say there were raccoons for hunting out here?” “Yeah, woods are lousy with ‘em,” Gruff confirmed. He motioned to the remains in the locker. “Gwen and Spark were trapping them all the time.” Gallus turned to face him urgently. “Wouldn’t an adult raccoon be roughly the same size as a griffon fledgling?” If it was possible, Gruff’s eyes widened even more as he understood. “It was a decoy!” he breathed in awe. “She used one of the ’coons to trick those griffons into thinking it was you in the carrier pouch!” Then his brow immediately furrowed. “But then…where were you?” Gallus was already in the middle of surveying the rest of the clearing, suspecting the answer was here. “What else was in this clearing besides the game locker?” he asked as he surveyed it. “Ah…I think there was a hanging line they used for drying out caught fish,” Gruff replied, joining him. He pointed uncertainly in the direction he thought it’d been, but there was nothing there now. “Probably got blown over in a storm at some point.” “Or pulled down by a hungry creature,” Gallus suggested knowingly, moving in the direction Gruff had pointed. He’d only gone a couple of paces before he found one of the fallen wooden supports hidden in the tall grasses, old and splintery. On instinct, he looked from there towards the edge of the clearing where he spied an old barrel laying on its side. A wave of claustrophobia suddenly hit him at the sight of it, contradictorily mixed in with a sense of safety. Approaching it solemnly, Gallus found the barrel had collapsed in on itself at some point over the years, but it was nonetheless familiar…just not in a good way. The hidden memories attached to this barrel weren’t happy ones but ones of desperation, lacking anything better. Dropping lower to the ground, he looked around the outside of it until he found, partly buried in the ground, the bones from a long-gone fish. Just a casual examination showed the meat had been gnawed off by a young, unpracticed, beak. Heart beating, Gallus then turned his attention to the barrel itself, pulling free some of the collapsed pieces so to peer inside better. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he spied it, perfectly preserved in long-dry mud—the solitary footprint of the fledgling griffon who had hidden within. He showed Gruff, who was only growing more shocked by the moment. “You were here,” he gasped, stunned. “That whole time, you were right here!” “Gruff, she didn’t die trying to escape,” Gallus said, the pieces all falling into place in his mind. “She died making sure I lived.” His gaze turned distant, somehow both chilled and warmed as he realized just what it was Gwen had done. “She sacrificed herself…for me.” He numbly concluded she must’ve resorted to it in desperation, lacking the time to come up with anything better. He could only imagine how much she must’ve been praying that things would somehow work out from there once she’d ensured Gallus’s immediate safety. “But why?” Gruff cried, trying to understand. “If she had gotten this far away from the house, why not just keep going into the woods instead of doubling back?” “Because she was already injured,” Gallus breathed, picturing what must have been going through Gwen’s head in that moment of desperation. “She couldn’t outrun them…and they wouldn’t stop trying until they had what they were after.” He hung his head. “She knew she couldn’t escape. But I still could…if she could just get them off my trail.” Gruff, on the verge of becoming hysterical, gripped the sides of his head with his talons. “But Spark and I didn’t get here until two days later!” he gasped, hyperventilating. “All the food left here would’ve spoiled by then! So when it ultimately did…” “…I went somewhere I knew I could find more,” Gallus concluded. Together, their gazes slowly turned to look at Griffonstone, just barely visible past the forest encircling them. Gallus noticed the look of horror on Gruff’s face as these realizations all sank in. “Gruff, you couldn’t have known.” “I should have!” he snapped back, unforgiving. But Gallus couldn’t help but look at it logically. “Gruff, it was everyone thinking I was dead and not looking for me that probably kept me alive this whole time. That’s why she did it!” “But you deserved BETTER!” Gruff shouted at him before the fight wheezed out of him like a balloon. “You all did,” he despaired. The outburst stunned Gallus into silence though, forcing him to realize something he’d been trying not to throughout all of this—Gruff actually cared. Feeling ashamed he’d doubted that now, Gallus averted his gaze. “…I’m sorry then,” he mumbled in a croak. Gruff heaved a great sigh. “So am I, boy, so am I.” he fidgeted uncomfortably to himself for a long moment after that, trying to regain his composure. “Look…we’d better get back to the house,” he prompted finally. “That guard mare’s probably wondering what happened to us.” Without waiting to see if Gallus would follow, he turned to leave. Gallus paused long enough to gaze at the lonely little footprint frozen in time inside the barrel, sensing the echoes of what he must’ve felt so long ago as the lost and alone little fledgling with nowhere else to go. “Yeah,” he finally said more to himself than to Gruff, recovering the footprint before reluctantly turning himself away. “We’d better do that.” Gruff proved to be right about Ditzy and she wasn’t especially pleased they’d slipped away from the house without telling her like that. Which Gruff was quick to razz her for, reminding her she was supposed to prevent such things, but as Ditzy gave him an almost murderous look for that insult to her capabilities, Gallus quickly intervened by taking the blame for it, since wandering out there had been his idea in the first place—Gruff had just followed to…keep him company. He then summarized in brief what they had deduced out there. Ditzy gave her deepest condolences but was forced to point out that this new knowledge still didn’t change their current circumstances much. And sadly she was right. Ultimately, the end outcomes hadn’t changed, and for the moment that was a bit more important, considering not only lives were still potentially on the line but others had already died over it too. Further, even though Gallus took comfort in that he had a better understanding of what had happened and why, it was still extremely saddening, considering the sacrifice it’d taken to do it. It in fact chilled Gallus somewhat to think about, that Gwen had been so willing to give herself up so to save him. He caught himself wondering, like Gruff, why. The answer remained obvious: as her son, she’d just loved him that much. But that was an unfamiliar idea for Gallus. And perhaps that was why it was so bittersweet for him. In any case, he was done exploring and just wanted to sit and…process. When he wandered back into the living room in search of someplace to do so, he found Spike had come back downstairs and was now huddled in front of the still-burning fireplace. He looked up at Gallus when the griffon entered and a moment of silent understanding was exchanged between them before Spike gently patted the floor beside him. Gallus happily took the invitation and sat down beside him, proceeding to stare into the flames and letting his tired mind drift. They said nothing. Gallus thought that he should probably tell Spike what he’d deduced out in the backyard, but…he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The fact Spike eventually leaned his head on Gallus’s side, trying not to doze off, didn’t help. He seemed so innocent, so youthful, so at ease currently that Gallus hated to spoil it. So instead he considered how much he had bonded with the dragon. He supposed that was to be expected after everything they’d been through, but he knew they now had ample reason to bond like this anyway. He’s my brother, Gallus reminded himself. I have a brother. That noble thought led him to reach out and pull Spike closer to him, wrapping a wing around him. It seemed right, after all. Eventually, Spike lost the battle and dozed off against Gallus’s side. He let him be, figuring he needed it. In fact, Gallus could feel sleep slowly trying to creep up on him too, and the warmth of the fire only made it seem all the more desirable. But like Spike had, he worked to try and fight it off. This became harder and harder to do as it grew ever later into the night, and he probably would’ve eventually lost like Spike if Ditzy hadn’t interrupted by urgently strolling into the room and over to the front window. Sensing something was up, Gallus straightened and forced the tiredness from his eyes with a series of heavy blinks. “…Ditzy?” he prompted. “There’s an airship approaching,” she explained simply, focusing her attention out the window at something in the black sky. And now that she’d said it, Gallus suddenly realized he could hear the dull roar of said airship’s engines growing closer. He got up, nudging Spike awake in the process, and they both joined Ditzy at the window, searching for the craft. “There,” Ditzy finally prompted, pointing with her hoof at the dark shape before squinting at the airship again—it seemed to be approaching their location hesitantly. “It looks to me like a dropship.” Gallus squinted his eyes at it, the dim lighting making it hard to discern. “How can you tell?” he asked. Ditzy tapped a hoof on her eyepatch. “Magicked to improve my eyesight, remember?” she reminded. “Is it the airship Twilight sent for us?” Spike prompted, before adding, “Please say it is this time.” “I’m not sure, and the fact we don’t have a radio doesn’t help.” Ditzy debated her options for a moment. “But there’s still a way I can check.” She reached into her brown jacket and pulled out a small flashlight Gallus assumed she must’ve had on her this whole time. She then proceeded to blink it on and off through the window at the approaching craft. There was a regular pattern to it, so Gallus assumed it was some sort of code. “What’s everybody doing in here?” Gruff interjected suddenly as he now joined them in the room. “Shush,” Gallus hushed him, focused on Ditzy’s light-flashing. Gruff harrumphed. “Don’t you shush me, boy, I—” “Shush!” This time Gallus and Spike both jointly hushed him. Gruff harrumphed again but stayed quiet this time. After another moment of Ditzy flashing her light, the airship outside flicked on its sole spotlight before starting to flash its own coded reply. Ditzy watched it intently for a moment, translating it in her head, before breathing a sigh of relief. “They’re Night Guard,” she reported swiftly, which immediately alieved any tensions that’d sprung up. “They are the ship come to pick us up.” “Thank goodness!” Spike breathed, his relief palatable. “I did not want to get shot at by an airship for a third time.” Ditzy proceeded to flash a new response back to the airship, probably signaling them to land. “We better gather our things,” she advised once she’d done that. There wasn’t much to collect so this didn’t take long. Meanwhile Ditzy doused the fire in the fireplace, sending the living room back to its dark and cold state they’d originally found it in, before leading them outside into the front yard. There the airship was already coming in to land directly in front of them, about roughly half the size Gene Type’s airship had been. Now that it was so close, its Night Guard markings were clear to see, a reassuring sight after so many false alarms with past airships. It landed so its rear faced them, and once the airship had safely settled upon the ground with a gentle creak, its back cargo ramp lowered by a manual crank to reveal a pewter green unicorn stallion dressed in the customary Night Guard armor standing there and waiting to greet them. Ditzy apparently recognized him. “Commander Flicker Flare,” she greeted warmly, giving him a salute. The commander happily returned it as he made his way down the ramp. “Lieutenant Commander Ditzy Doo,” he greeted back. He smirked. “Not the first time I’ve had to give you a lift after stranding yourself during a mission.” Ditzy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, good to see you too, Flick.” “Always a pleasure, Ditz,” Flicker replied. He turned serious as he arrived at the bottom of the ramp. “Actually, we’re glad to see you here and okay. We were alarmed when we discovered your transponder was broadcasting all the way out here, far from where we were expecting.” “Yeah, we…ran into some trouble earlier,” Ditzy explained, biting her lip. “Caught a lot of radio chatter about an incident in Griffonstone on our way in, figured you might’ve had something to do with it,” Flicker noted with a nod before turning his attention to the others with her. “I assume these are the creatures the princess said you’re escorting?” “Right,” Ditzy said, pointing a hoof at each of them in turn. “Gruff, Gallus, and of course you should already know Spike.” Flicker gave Gallus in particular a confused look over. “Did you fall into some dye or…?” “Oh, let’s just not get into that,” Gallus interrupted with an annoyed wave, knowing he was talking about the inks still coloring parts of his coat—he made a note to scrub the darn stuff out the moment he got a chance. “We need to get them back to Canterlot safe and sound,” Ditzy continued to explain to Flicker. “And I should warn you—their pursuers may have airships of their own.” “Noted,” Flicker said, rubbing his chin as he considered that detail. “Fortunately, we were able to fly in here without encountering any other craft, so hopefully we’ll have no problem doing so again on the way out.” He stomped a hoof decisively. “In any case, let’s not delay getting you all aboard any longer.” “Finally,” Gruff grumbled, taking that as permission enough to board and headed up the ramp into the airship. Flicker raised an amused eyebrow at the griffon’s grouching. “Welcome aboard the Conveyance anyway, sir,” he said to be pleasant. Gallus snorted as he followed Gruff. “A dropship named Conveyance—somebody thought they were being really clever with that name.” “She’s still reliable for getting you where you need to go,” Flicker replied before greeting Spike next. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Advisor Spike.” “Wish it was under better conditions, commander,” Spike replied back as he and Ditzy brought up the rear. The airship didn’t have much to its interior, with the majority of its deck space being a single open compartment split in two halves, one bearing seating for passengers or crew but the rest left clear for the sole purpose of hauling cargo, as shown by the number of crates already aboard. Another smaller deck was above them, but it seemed to contain only the craft’s flight controls and little else. Counting the commander, it was crewed by only four ponies, but all of them seemed experienced. The moment they were aboard Flicker was all business, giving the order to a bat pony crewmember to raise the back hatch and for the pilot, hidden in the cockpit up a small flight of stairs, to take off immediately and start heading for Canterlot. As Gallus settled into a seat though, he couldn’t help but look longingly back at the house while the airship lifted off and started pulling away from it, suddenly feeling reluctant to leave. Ditzy must’ve noticed because she placed a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Once this is all over, you should be able to come back,” she assured. “Assuming you want to.” Gallus glanced back at house slowly shrinking away. “I just might.” Ditzy gave him a final pat before turning to Flicker. “Flick, our communications beetle is still recharging and I have a heap of new information to report to the princess. Do you have radio contact with Canterlot currently?” Flicker nodded and motioned for her to follow him. “Sure do, Ditz. Let’s see if we can get her highness on the horn for you.” He nodded to the remaining bat pony crewmember. “Keep everything shipshape down here, Crewpony Gloam,” he instructed as he led Ditzy up the stairs. “Yes sir,” the bat pony, Gloam, responded with a salute and assumed a guarding stance at his post to one side of the room. Spike, seated next to Gallus, let himself go limp with a weary sigh. “Well, hopefully this means we’re past the worst of it now,” he remarked aloud. “Yeah,” Gallus replied, only half-listening as he continued to watch the house shrink as they flew away, “one can hope.” Gruff, seated on the opposite side of Spike, snorted. “I’m not holding my breath.” And Gallus still had to relent to the niggling thought in the back of his head that Gruff might be right to do so.